Chapter 27
Njall
Abranch snapped in the woods, barely audible over the rain landing on our tent.
I held my breath, straining to listen for anything else, but the sound of my heart pounding made it nearly impossible.
My body had surged into fight mode, coiled and ready to strike if the sound was more than a woodland creature.
But it wasn’t just the possibility of danger that had my pulse racing.
Elva lay beside me, and she'd picked tonight, of all nights, to roll toward me and leave her arm slung across my chest as she slept.
It had been three days since I'd become her prisoner. Sharing a blanket with her in the open campsite had been a challenge, but lying beside her in a small tent, away from her brothers’ watchful eyes, was a form of torture that rivaled what I’d gone through at the Huestur castle.
Every soft breath she took in reminded me of the night we’d shared before everything fell apart—before I’d made the gravest mistake of my life by turning her in.
Back then, I’d seen her as a monster, a siren created to lure and destroy men.
But now I knew the truth: Elva was so much more than that.
Another branch snapped, louder this time.
“Elva,” I whispered, gently shaking her shoulder.
“What?” she muttered softly before ripping her arm from my chest and pushing herself up off the ground. “Sorry.”
“Shhh. Listen,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rain.
For a moment, it picked up, and all we heard was the patter of water against the tent fabric.
Then, just as I felt her shift beside me, came another snap.
Tension radiated off her, letting me know she’d heard it too.
Without a word, she crawled over my legs and moved silently to the back of the tent.
My eyes had adjusted enough now that I could see her silhouette moving toward the door flaps.
She pulled them aside, and as lightning cracked in the sky, I saw the outline of a knight standing just beyond the trees.
“They found us,” Elva whispered as she scrambled back to me. “Grab what you can and get to the horses. I’ll get my brothers.”
I caught her arm, holding her close so I could whisper. “Where are your daggers? Your sword?”
Elva reached around me, retrieved her dagger sheath from the ground, and slung it across her chest. Then she guided my hand under the mat where she'd been sleeping, and my fingers closed around the hilt of a sword she'd kept hidden from me.
I frowned, but said nothing. That was a conversation for later—not now, when every second counted.
Elva crawled to one end of the tent, and I remained at the other.
We waited, crouching there. I felt her brush against my shin more than once.
When a loud rustle came just outside my end, I pushed her with my foot, and she slipped out silently through the flaps.
I grasped the sword, ready to follow, when a shout came from outside.
I leaped out of the tent and spotted two men. They hadn't seen me come out. With surprise on my side, I sliced one's leg, and he dropped with a sharp cry. As the other one turned, I drove my fist into his jaw, sending him sprawling just as quickly.
“Sindri, run!” Leifur bellowed, bursting out of the other tent with a sword in one hand and a hammer in the other.
Lightning flashed as I shouted, “Where’s Elva?”
“Forget Elva,” Leifur growled when an arrow whizzed past us, striking one of the men on the ground.
“She can handle herself. You need to go with Sindri.” He shoved me toward his husband, and from the pleading look in his eyes, I knew that I was not to be his prisoner, but his protector.
Sindri was scrambling to salvage whatever gear he could from the ground.
I hauled him to his feet, and together we sprinted across the campsite toward the horses.
A guard lunged at us, knocking Sindri to the ground, but I made a quick time of him with my sword.
Its workmanship surprised me—the blade slid through the guard’s leather armor and back as if it were cheese.
“Move!” I shouted. When we reached the horses, we fumbled with the saddles as fast as our fingers could manage in the freezing rain.
Shouts came from the camp behind us, followed by Elva's scream. I spun, ready to rush back into the fray, but Sindri grabbed my shoulder. “They've got this,” he said, his voice wavering. “Get on your horse, now.”
“But—”
“We didn’t come this far to lose you now and get nothing out of this trip.” He shoved me toward my mount. I was ready to argue, to fight him off and go back for Elva, when her voice cut through the chaos.
“On the horses now!”
Leifur and Elva burst from the camp, their arms full of supplies and both splattered with blood.
Sindri was already mounted on his horse, holding the reins of Elva’s mule.
She swung onto it with surprising agility, and I quickly followed suit, mounting Acorn.
We were off at a gallop, the horses’ hooves pounding against the sodden earth as fast as we dared.
“Ride faster!” Leifur shouted over the relentless rain lashing against our faces. There was no need for quiet now.
The shouts behind us grew louder, closer, and Elva leaned into her mule’s neck, urging it ahead of her brothers. “We need to split up,” she yelled back to them. “It’s our only chance.”
“You get Njall out of here,” one of them shouted. I think it was Leifur, but I couldn't be certain at this distance. “We’ll lead them away.”
“No—” Elva's protest was cut short as an arrow whizzed past her face, leaving a streak of blood in its wake. She let out a sharp shriek, more out of rage than pain.
“Go!” Leifur shoved her toward me, and our horses only just avoided tripping over each other.
“This way,” I shouted and veered to the left. A gust of wind had blown back the branches of a tree, revealing a narrow path through a dense grove of pines. It was a foot trail, barely wide enough for our horses. The Huestur men were wearing bulky armor, which gave us an edge.
Elva looked back one last time, then followed me into the dark pine tree path.
The air inside was damp and heavy with the scent of wet earth and needles.
We pushed the horses further, and when we finally broke through the other side, the only sounds were the soft crunch of our hooves on the forest floor and the patter of rain against the leaves.
Relief washed over me as I turned to look at Elva. She'd dismounted her mule and stood with her arms crossed, watching the trees expectantly.
“They’ll be fine,” I said, as I slid off Acorn. I reached for her arm, but when she turned back to face me, her eyes had gone black, and her teeth had grown long and pointed.
“‘Go north,’ you said,” she hissed at me, her words dripping with venom. “‘No one will come north. They won’t look for us there.’ You’re a useless, spoiled layabout! Why did I listen to you? Have you ever even been in a fight, let alone a battle?”
Her words cut deep. “I have brothers,” I shot back, jabbing her shoulder. “What do you think?”
“I don’t count fighting with siblings!” she spat, slapping my hand away. “I mean, using an actual weapon. Or do you just run any time things get hard?”
“I didn’t ask you to come save me,” I bit back.
“And if I’d had any other options to take care of my brothers, I promise you I wouldn’t have. If your own family couldn’t be bothered, there’s something very wrong with you.”
My anger flared. “Something’s wrong with me? What about you? I’ve never heard of a siren leaving the Konvern Territory for anything other than breeding. So, what did you do?”
For a moment, I thought she might lunge at me. Her eyes darkened even further as she closed the space between us and thrust a dagger toward me, the blade glinting in the dim light. “If I didn’t need you alive to get my full pay, I’d make you sorry for that remark.”
In an instant, the dagger vanished. She grabbed her mule’s reins to lead her further into the underbrush. “You'd better pray to whatever god you stupid humans believe in,” she muttered over her shoulder, “because if anything happens to my brothers, I won’t have a reason to keep you alive.”
I grabbed Acorn’s reins and followed her from a safe distance.
The horses needed a break after the running we’d put them through.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle now, but the air still clung to the scent of wet earth and pine.
Watching Elva’s movements, I could see the tension in her, the way her shoulders carried the weight of worry for her brothers. It made me uncomfortable.
Ingvar barely tolerated me on his best days.
While Baldr was happy to be around me, he was happy to be around anyone, so long as they would drink, smoke, gamble, or womanize with him.
And Hulda ... well, I loved my sister, but I don’t think she really cared for anyone, not even her soon-to-be husband.
Even when we were children, she’d only liked people for what they could give her.
But Elva truly loved her brothers. She'd give up everything for them—not just gold, or her freedom, but if it came down to it, she’d give her life for them.
I was so focused on my thoughts that I nearly collided with her. She turned and glared at me.
“We need to find shelter,” she said. “It’s not good for the horses to stay so wet.”
“Agreed.” I nodded.