Chapter 28
Elva
I'd expected to wake up in a cold room, but the fire was stoked and sent off a heat that made me feel as if my whole body were on fire.
Part of me wanted to curl up inside the blankets to escape the nightmare I was living, but instead, I gazed up at the log ceiling.
This was the life I was fighting for—a cabin in the woods where my brothers and I could live in peace.
Where I could put down my daggers and just live.
A sharp pain shot through my side as I sat up.
But before I could deal with that, a scream pierced the air.
Sindri? Or just the wind playing tricks on me?
My heart raced as I hurried to the small window and pushed aside the curtains.
The storm was raging outside. Several of the large forest trees had come down during the night, and one had just missed the house while we slept.
I strained to see through the weather and glimpsed what looked like a pale face in the trees.
My breath fogged the pane as fear gripped me. Pressing my face against the glass, its features became clearer. It was Aamon. The face of my nightmares was staring at me from the forest outside the cabin. Rage flared within me, overtaking all reason, and I flung open the door and dashed outside.
The rain was coming down sideways and pelted my face hard enough that I suspected it would leave a bruise.
Logic screamed that it couldn't be him; if it was, he’d disappear into the underbrush before I got to him, but I couldn’t stop myself from screaming his name and pushing myself toward him.
In seconds, the rain drenched me, and my whole body shivered.
The howling wind drowned out my calls. Suddenly, a violent force pulled me backwards, just as a tree limb crashed down where I’d been standing.
Njall's hand was clamped on my arm, dragging me back to the cabin. He was shouting, but I barely heard the words. I struggled against him, glancing back to search for that face before we crossed the threshold and shut the door.
The door slammed shut behind us, and Njall turned on me, his soaked hair plastered to his head, fury blazing in his eyes. “What was that?” he demanded. He was angry, but there was something else in his expression that I couldn't discern.
I wanted to tell him, but painful memories of the last time I’d opened up to a man who wasn’t my brother flooded me. “None of your concern,” I said finally, my voice steady despite the turmoil within.
Njall ran his hands through his hair, growling in frustration. “It is my concern if you get yourself killed before we get home.”
I crossed my arms and met his gaze steadily. “I thought you’d welcome my demise. Then you wouldn’t owe me anything.”
“My brother is the one who owes you. Not me.” He turned sharply, peeling off his shirt and hanging it on the broom handle by the fire.
Sighing, I joined him and stripped out of my wet dress and swapped it for my clothes that were now dry.
Even after I changed, I couldn’t stop shivering.
It was a horrible sensation. I was rarely bothered by feeling wet and cold, but today it seemed I couldn't warm up.
Njall grumbled to himself as he squatted down and tossed another log on the fire.
The flames crackled, and something inside me snapped.
“I saw him.” I hadn’t planned to confess it, and so my voice was barely a whisper, but Njall stilled. His eyes fixed on me so intently that it made me uncomfortable, a feeling men rarely inspired. “Who? Your brothers?” he asked.
I pulled my knees up to my chin to warm myself, but didn’t respond.
Njall moved to the window, scanning the storm outside. “What did he look like?”
“Like Aamon,” I whispered.
“No,” he snapped. “I mean, was he too tall or too pale?”
“A little pale, but I couldn’t tell his height from here.”
“Did you see any salt in the kitchen?”
“A bag. Why?”
“When I was a boy, my father’s general told us stories of the creatures that lived in these woods. But these were not the common tales of werewolves or dire wolves or minotaurs, but of demons and witches that dwell near the Bloot River and prey on lost travelers.”
I couldn’t help but shiver. I’d heard of unnatural beings that lured lonely travelers to their doom, but they’d never been given specific names like demon or witch.
Sirens knew there were more things in these woods than what humans had discovered.
Some things could hide well. Others left no human behind to tell the tale.
“What were you taught about these creatures?” I asked as Njall hurried into the kitchen.
“It depends on the individual witch or demon,” he said as I heard pans clattering.
He returned with the bag of salt, then untied it and began pouring a thin line along the door and windows.
“Some will keep you alive to use your body in rituals, while others lure travelers into the woods and drink their blood before devouring them.”
I had a suspicion he was leaving one use for lonely men off the list. “And?”
He stopped pouring the salt and turned his head to face me. “And some appear as helpless maidens who lure men to their death with the promise of sex.”
I couldn’t help but smirk at his glare. “That one at least makes sense. I never understood what humans had against playing with their food.”
The prince didn’t even flinch. “You’ve never eaten with Ingvar.” He resumed pouring the salt line, leaving me to wonder how exactly his half-werewolf brother would play with his food.
Tired of just sitting, I stood and sauntered down the small, narrow hall.
Bundles of dried herbs hung in a row among some trinkets on a small shelf: an amethyst stone, a small bowl of acorns, a large dried starfish, a tooth as long as my palm, and other oddities.
The hallway led to the first bedroom. This was the smaller of the two.
I'd stolen the soft quilt from it the night before, leaving it stripped bare. There was a small shelf beside the bed and a cedar chest where I’d found the dress.
I lifted the lid and dug through its contents a little more, thankful when I found an oversized, knitted shirt at the bottom.
It was thin in a few places and had a small hole near the bottom, but the green shade reminded me of sea grass, and I was sure it would keep me warm.
I pulled off my thin shirt and finally examined the wound on my side.
It was red and hot to the touch. We’d need to get out of here soon so I could find Leifur and have him help me with it.
I slipped on my fresh shirt, being careful to pull it down to cover my side.
There was a small bookshelf. I spotted a book of legends about the beasts that roamed across Torian, and another of protective charms and spells to keep yourself safe from these monsters.
There was a book of medicinal or edible plants.
I grabbed the stories and charms books. I wondered what they would say about selkies or
sirens.
When I returned to the main room, Njall was crouched in front of the fire. He seemed to have brought it back to life with gusto. “How long do you think the storm will last?” he asked.
“I’ve known bad ones to last up to a week in the north, but we won't be staying here that long. I’d need to find my brothers before that.”
Njall brushed his hands against his pants as he stood and eyed the books I had in my hands. “Find anything interesting? I’m going a little stir crazy.”
I held the books out to him, and he picked the charms one, which honestly surprised me, but I decided not to comment.
We settled into our makeshift bed and flipped through the books.
I laughed out loud several times. If you believed the stories, sirens were all female and hideous.
They only came out of the sea at night to find men to mate with and then ate them before returning to the sea.
The author was confused between mermaids and sirens.
Mermaids were the ones who came on the beach at night to snatch humans to feast on.
It’s why their hair is gray, to hide them from the dark water.
When I laughed for the third time, Njall finally asked why. I passed him the book, and he flipped through it, pausing to read a few random pages, most of which made him snicker.
“It's wrong about satyrs,” he said.
“What?”
“Right here,” he said, holding the book up to me for emphasis. “It says satyrs can’t get drunk. But let me tell you, Baldr can. He takes longer, and it takes enough ale to make a bull topple, but when he gets there, it’s hilarious.”
“What else did you learn?”
“Werewolves are all gray.”
“Like their fur?”
“No, their bodies too.”
I burst out laughing, and Njall smirked.
I assumed we were both picturing his brother Ingvar as a bizarre gray-skinned man.
We continued to share entertaining bits from the books as the storm raged on outside.
I was grateful for the distraction. Without it, he might get around to asking who Aamon was, and I was already cursing myself for the slip.
It must have been well into the morning by then, and the fire was roaring thanks to the giant woodpile Njall had found outside. It let us cook more potatoes, and after scouring the entire kitchen, we even found a cooking pot and could add some herbs to the water to make potato soup.
Everything was going well until after lunch, when the storm became more intense.
The wind made the tree continuously scrape against the house, and the rain beating on the roof made it almost impossible to hear our thoughts.
A flash of lightning struck right outside the cabin, and it was so bright it blinded us for a few seconds.
The thunder, which came instantly, was as loud as a castle wall crashing down.
We ran to the window. Outside, there was a smoking hole in the path we’d used to arrive here.
Before I could say anything, we heard another crash.
Njall darted to the door and flung it open, just as Acorn bolted in front of the cabin.
“Ferflucs,” Njall shouted as he ran into the storm after his horse. I followed him, knowing if we didn’t get the horse now, we’d probably never find him, and I had no intention of having to take turns walking beside the mule.
Rain struck my face the instant I stepped outside.
While it didn’t seem possible, it was worse than this morning.
The wind had picked up, forcing me to push against it just to move, and each drop felt like an ice shard being driven into my skin.
My side burned with each awkward step, but I pushed down the pain, determined to find Njall and the horse.
“Njall!” I shouted as loud as I could, hoping to be heard over the storm.
The forest looked menacing, and the wind rushing through the trees was like screams. The trees swung so far I wondered how they didn’t snap from the force of the gale.
I called out again and was pushing on toward the tree line when a flash caught the corner of my eye.
I shielded myself, turning to face what I expected to be another lightning strike, but there was only the rain.
Njall’s stories of witches and demons felt unsettlingly real as I shielded my eyes with my hand and stepped into the forest.