Chapter 12
Elva
Both of my brothers were still awake when I returned.
Leifur had told Sindri about the satyr, and they wouldn’t let me go to sleep until I recounted every juicy detail of the night, not once, but twice.
Leifur used the time to touch up my hair paste, and I was relieved to learn the man I’d robbed hadn’t come looking for me.
After my brothers heard enough about my evening, Sindri handed me a key.
His new widowed friend had given him enough gold that we could afford two rooms, and they’d already moved my things into the smaller one.
I hugged him goodnight and headed to my room across the hall.
The lock stuck a little, but once I wiggled it just right, I got into the room.
It was furnished with a desk, a bed, and a fireplace, and I was grateful that my brothers had lit the fire for me.
My bag was sitting on the chair by the table, and my blades were laid out on the bed.
I unsheathed one and inspected it. These daggers were a gift from my instructor after I'd finished my warrior siren training.
We were each given a weapon as a parting gift, and it was usually the one that suited our skills the best.
I replaced the dagger in its spot and reached for the last one in my set.
Smaller and worn, it was the first blade I’d ever been given—the day my siren came in.
I locked my hand around the handle and pressed it to my chest, remembering that day.
Sindri had sobbed when he realized we were different—me a warrior, and he sultry.
It broke his heart, and honestly, it would have broken mine too, if it hadn't already been shattered.
That very day, we were separated. He went to learn how to wield his gifts, while I was sent for physical training.
That is, after I finished my rehabilitation with the elder sirens.
A siren who was terrified of men was useless, they'd said.
My hands were shaking from the haunting memories of that time, and the dagger clattered onto the floor.
I had been weak then, and others took advantage of my innocence.
But that weakness is gone now. Once my brothers were safe, I would hunt Aamon to the ends of the world if need be.
Leifur had cleaned my blades for me, but he knew not to touch this last one.
The dried blood served as a reminder of how far I’d come and how much work I had left to do.
“One more,” I whispered, wrapping my daggers in their leather case.
“When I find him, I’ll add his blood to my blade and put an end to the pain I’ve carried all these years. ”
I placed the daggers next to the sword on my desk and got to work untying my corset.
I tossed it on the chair, and my pants quickly followed.
Slipping into the bed, I sighed in contentment.
I loved my brothers dearly, but having my own room at an inn was the best feeling.
We shared a tent every night we traveled, especially when it was cold, so being alone in a bed with a full belly was a luxury I'd nearly forgotten.
I turned to my side and watched the fire crackle, its golden light dancing across the room as I drifted off to sleep.
Years of getting up before the sun to train meant that I was naturally an early riser.
I dressed and headed downstairs to the main floor.
The tavern was empty except for a woman polishing mugs behind the bar.
I ordered breakfast to be sent up to my brother’s room and went back upstairs with a jug of spiced cider and three mugs.
It took several rounds of knocking before my brother finally yanked the door open, muttering threats under his breath.
“Good morning to you, too,” I said brightly, pecking him on the cheek, and he grumbled even more.
Leifur was by the washbasin, splashing water on his face when he spotted the jug in my hands. His eyes lit up, and he was across the room in a blink to retrieve one for himself. “You are a treasure, Elva.”
“A treasure that bites and wakes you up,” Sindri muttered. He flopped back onto the bed, pulling the blanket over his head.
I ignored his dramatics. “The food should be up shortly.”
Leifur cradled the mug in his hands, took a gulp, and let out a satisfied moan. “I love southern cider.”
Sindri’s head popped out of the blanket. “Hey! Don’t you dare make sounds like that for anything that isn’t me!”
Leifur and I giggled. “I don’t know what spices they use down here,” Leifur said, “but—”
“Euphoric?” I suggested, and Leifur nodded and drank again.
“Fine, give me some of your life-changing cider.” Sindri scooted to the foot of the bed, still wrapped in the blanket, as he took the mug I passed his way. He sniffed it, shrugged, and took a swig. His eyes widened almost immediately, and he stared at us in mock disbelief.
“Told you,” Leifur said.
A knock interrupted us. “That’ll be breakfast,” I said, and let them in with our food.
We ate quickly, and once we were full of bread, soft cheese, dried goat, and berry spread, Leifur and I dressed in our leathers for the day's events, while Sindri went all out, draping himself in the finest clothes we had.
He was meeting his new widowed friend so he could escort her to spend the day watching the events.
When we reached the main road, we were sucked into the river of people flowing toward the castle.
It felt as if the entire kingdom had turned out for the celebration.
Many of the stands were closed and taken down from the road, leaving only the bakeries and taverns open, and even those were standing room only.
Tyndorf certainly knows how to throw a celebration.
Leifur had signed up for both blacksmithing competitions—the skill-based challenge and the artistic one.
In the skills competition, he would be given something to reproduce and a time limit.
The winner would be the person who crafted the most identical items in the given time.
The artistic challenge is more open-ended.
Competitors can create whatever they like, provided it serves as a wedding gift for the bride or groom.
The winners will be chosen based on which gifts the royal couple preferred.
As for me, the dagger competition will be that morning, and swords in the afternoon. I would have preferred it the other way, so I could go into daggers with everyone underestimating me, but luck hasn't been on my side lately.
The crowd surged around us, and a group of children bumped us, trying to squeeze their way through the crowd. I tightened my scabbard to make sure my daggers wouldn’t shift. It wasn’t until we reached the castle grounds that I could move freely again.
Sindri quickly spotted his widow across the field. He kissed Leifur and me on the cheek and dashed off. We watched him bow to her before offering his arm and leading her off towards the competitions.
“It’s unfair,” I said, shaking my head.
“What is?” Leifur asked.
“How easily Sindri slips in and out of his siren persona. I feel like mine fights me every time I need to put her away.”
“It makes sense,” Leifur said. “He is so much like his siren. The only difference between them is that his siren can only woo women, while he can steal the hearts of men, too.”
I couldn’t help but snicker at the truth of his observation.
Leifur continued, “But yours—you two are at war. Your siren wants to burn the world to the ground and murder every male in sight, as a punishment for what those men did to you. That is, after she's had her wicked way with them. You want that too, just without as much of the murdering part.”
I snorted, which made Leifur laugh, so I playfully shoved him. He lost his footing and stumbled into someone.
When the man turned, and I saw the royal crest on his shirt, my blood ran cold.
Leifur had stumbled right into a prince.
My brother had biceps larger than my thighs from working as a blacksmith, but this prince, while shorter, was muscular everywhere.
His hair was a bushy white and gray, and his yellow eyes were fixed intently on my brother.
“Who do you think you are to touch a prince of Tyndorf?” the prince demanded.
“Apologies,” I said, grabbing Leifur’s arm. “We’ll be on our way and won’t trouble you any further.”
I knew I had said the wrong thing immediately. A growl rumbled from the prince as he seized Leifur's arm and pulled him closer to examine Leifur’s scalp. “Blue hair … you must be that siren my general and brother are all worried about.”
Leifur shot me a wild-eyed glance. “I’m only here to compete in the blacksmith compe …
compe … competition.” Leifur only stuttered when he was scared, and hearing it sent me into a rage.
“We apologized. Now let us go.” My voice was rising.
I knew I had to calm down or things would go badly for us quickly.
The prince turned his attention to me. “You need to leave, young lady. This siren has you under his spell. I accept your gratitude for freeing you. Now be gone.”
“Elva, just go,” Leifur whispered through clenched teeth, but his eyes told me he knew I wouldn’t be doing that.
I hesitated, weighing my options: draw my daggers or try to reason with him. Before I could decide, a familiar voice called out from behind me.
“Ingvar, come on,” Baldr shouted, and the crowd parted for him.
Today, he was wearing a traditional shirt with the same crest as the princes.
“If I have to listen to Hulda complain one more time about how bright it is out here, I might have to lock her in a tower. And while Njall may think that's a great idea, I’m sure Father and Magni would disagree.”
A pit opened up in my stomach, and all my air left me. No, it can’t be. The satyr smiled when his eyes landed on me. “Hello again, Elva. A pleasure to run into you so soon.” His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before us, particularly Ingvar's grip on Leifur's arm. “What is going on here?”
“I caught the siren. Now be helpful or get lost.”
“Siren?” Baldr looked from me to Leifur. “But he’s male. Aren’t all sirens female?”
“And that’s why you’re not crown prince,” came another voice from behind us.
No. Please no.
I turned and saw the man from our first inn marching through the crowd. The man I had bedded and then robbed was wearing the same crest as Ingvar and Baldr. A prince? Malachite and Baldr, both princes. I’m going to be sick. I swallowed back the nausea rising in my throat.
“Did you pay attention to any of our lessons?” Malachite asked.
“Only the anatomy ones,” Baldr replied smugly.
Malachite had dark bags under his eyes. He must have been tired or frustrated. When he spotted me, he stopped in his tracks and his lips twisted into a snarl. “You!”
Baldr stepped between me and Malachite. “What business do you have with Elva?”
“Is that the name she gave you? She gave me Pearl.”
“You picked Pearl!” I shouted back.
“Sorry if I’m unused to choosing names for the women I sleep with. That’s my brother’s territory.”
“I don’t need to pick names,” Baldr said. “They give me their real ones.”
“Wait—she gave you her name. Did you bed her?”
“Of course. Look at her—she’s gorgeous.”
I rolled my eyes. This was going downhill, fast. “It isn’t what it looks like!”
“So you didn’t sleep with two of the princes of Tyndorf in the last two nights?”
All four men turned to me at once, and despite being used to men’s attention, their harsh scrutiny made me feel exposed, and my cheeks burned. “Who I sleep with is none of your business,” I managed after I came to my senses.
“It is our business if you did it to gather information from us.” Malachite shoved Baldr aside and lunged at me. I wasn’t expecting it and couldn’t move fast enough. He grabbed my shoulder and yanked me away from Leifur. “Who are you working for? It’s the Anginfill king, isn’t it?”
“I’m not working for anyone!” I screamed back as I clawed at his hand to get him to release me. “I’m traveling with my brothers, and we came for the competition. Now unhand me!” I tried to slap him, but missed. Thankfully, I’d managed to keep my claws retracted.
“I don’t believe you,” Malachite spat, his grip tightening. “You’re coming with us. Let our father decide what to do with you.”
“No, please,” Leifur begged, trying to pull away from his captor. Ingvar waved a few knights over, and soon he was being led away by two other men.
“Do you really think she’s a spy?” Baldr asked as Njall dragged me forward, following Leifur.
“Whores have been used as spies for centuries,” Ingvar replied, grabbing my other arm. “If she’d have run into me, I’d have let her into my bed.”
“Where are you taking them?” Sindri shouted as he pushed his way through the gathering crowd.
“Sindri, go!” I yelled back.
“Silence, whore,” Ingvar growled, his fingers digging deeper into my arm.
Baldr turned to Sindri, confusion plastered on his face. “Who are you?”
“I’m her brother, and I demand to know where you’re taking my sister and my husband.”
“Guards!” Njall barked, and they pounced on Sindri, restraining him.
“Let him go! He has nothing to do with this.” I was struggling to focus my breathing and keep my heart, anxiety, and siren all under control.
“If he's your brother, that makes all three of you sirens,” Njall said.
I went cold and thought I might be sick. A slight smirk appeared on Njall's face. “You're wondering how we figured you out,” he said.
I stared at him defiantly.
“You missed some hair when you dyed it,” Njall said.
“We’ll come with you, but let us walk. You don’t need to drag us,” Leifur pleaded.
I could feel Leifur's eyes on me, and I suddenly knew why I was losing control. He'd realized it even before I had. He always did. My stomach clenched as Ingvar tightened his grip on my arm, and the memory of another man holding my arm tried to break free.
“We’re not letting you go,” one guard sneered, laughing. “We're not stupid.”
“D-Drag me then, but let my sister walk,” Leifur stammered.
Baldr turned to me, smirking. Sweat was making my hair stick to my neck. I knew I couldn't hold her back much longer, so I took a deep breath and released her.