10. Maddy
Chapter 10
Maddy
" W ell, that didn't go quite how I thought it would," I mutter as I make my way from the Bird Wing to the feasting hall for breakfast.
"How'd you think it would go?"
I nearly lash out at Kain when his voice startles me. "For Odin's sake! Can't I have five minutes alone to talk to myself?"
"What did she say?"
I glare at him as I walk along the wood. "How do you do this 'melting in and out of foliage' thing?"
"I've had years to practice."
"Then practice the going-away bit, now."
He stares at me a beat, his mouth almost twitching at the corner, then shrugs and turns in the other direction. I wait a few seconds before turning around. He's vanished.
The pang of disappointment matches my relief.
He makes my heart hammer just by being nearby, and with last night still so fresh, and still so unfulfilling , I'm better on my own today.
Breakfast and runes are uneventful, but afternoon archery brings new challenges—the targets now slide left and right on their bases while spinning, making each shot a complex calculation of timing and trajectory. As I nock another arrow, Valdis' words about crafting my own bow echo in my mind. The practice weapon feels clumsy in comparison to what I imagine—a bow perfectly balanced to my frame, infused with my own passion and quirks.
That evening, Sarra and I huddle over my shield project, making lists of improvements needed. It's a short list, and I'm excited it's close to complete.
I faint in healing the next morning, and although I'm a little dazed when I come around, I'm more surprised to find two pairs of hands lifting me back onto my stool.
"Thanks," I mutter to Staffan and Tora. They both nod, then turn their attention back to Erik, who is glaring at Orgid and explaining the many ways different magic can aid healing broken bones.
Orgid isn't looking at Erik, though—he's staring at me. My stomach lurches and I force myself to hold his gaze. I won't let him intimidate me.
Voices that don't belong to me start to creep through my mind, people screaming, wails of fear and grief clanging in my ears. Orgid's grin widens as he sees the evidence of his magic working on my face.
Ice explodes from my hands before I can stop it, sending nearby rooks scrambling.
"Shit, s-sorry," I stammer. I get wary looks from the two rooks who just helped me, and a couple of sniggers around the room reach my pink ears.
"Get towels," Erik says, already turning back to his lesson.
When we all traipse to the Battleyard for blade training, I realize that Selma is not getting the nervous reaction that Inga and I are. In fact, there are more people around her than ever. The group branded cowards are sticking together, and being avoided by everybody—all except Ulrika, who still hasn't been seen apart from a few fleeting appearances in the feasting hall.
I'm excited to see that we are working with axes today. I've never touched an axe before, and we start by throwing them at targets. My relief that we are not sparring with opponents is quickly replaced with frustration.
I am shit at throwing axes.
Because my aim with a bow is good, I assumed I would be competent at this too, but the handles are bulky and twisty, the weight is all at one end, and what I picture happening is not at all what actually happens whenever I let go. My only consolation is that it looks like quite a few of the others are equally as poor at the task.
Navi, of course, is excellent. Henrik is pretty good, and so is Garda. Before long, I've become completely distracted watching other folk throw their axes, and mine is hanging uselessly by my side.
"You're not going to get any better like that."
Kain's voice in my head makes me jump, and I look for him. Pointlessly.
I let out a sigh. I can't reply to him, so I turn back to my target.
"Same principle applies, princess. What do you do first if you want to get better?"
Learn. Learn first, practice second.
I keep the scowl from my face, scan the folk around me to check they not paying me too much attention, then go to the gallery. I'm as quick as I can be, and it doesn't take long to find a statue holding a book about bladed weapons.
When I return, the glowing book is in my hands, and I awkwardly pretend to inspect my axe while skimming the words for anything useful.
Within a few minutes, I've realized my grip is causing the axe to spin the wrong way when I let go, and that I need to let go while it is much higher.
I wave the book away and try again.
Thunk .
It's nowhere near the target center, but it's the first time I've hit the wooden board at all, and I give a hiss of satisfaction.
"You can thank me later, princess. By using that magic of yours to look for ship names."
I swallow. There is only so long I can put off helping him. But I still don't know what he might do with his completed helm.
He promised he'll wait until I'm a Valkyrie. But then what? Do I really believe that if I had wings I could stop him?
I bite the inside of my cheek.
It's not the wings I hope will stop him. It's me, I realize. I hope that I can talk him out of his revenge. Which is insane . In what world would he give up a two-hundred-year grudge because a little ice-fae princess asked nicely?
I straighten my shoulders. He doesn't even know whom he is seeking revenge on. We're a way off his acting on anything. Looking for some ship names in the meantime wouldn't be the worst thing, would it?
He's waiting for me outside the Battleyard. I watch everyone ahead of me skirt around him, unwilling to get near him. Why in the name of Odin's arse do I always want to do the complete opposite when I see him?
"You're a stalker," I tell him.
He raises his brows but says nothing. He's wearing supple back leather trousers and a deep gray shirt covered in leather straps and metal chains. His gloves reach his elbows, but his shirt sleeves are high, baring some of his dark skin.
I refrain from licking my lips. "Most cultures would punish you for skulking around, spying on others."
"It's not spying when you know I'm there."
"It's still unwanted."
His eyes flash. "We both know you want me, princess."
I swallow. "No ship names. Not today."
He tilts his head slowly. "Why not?"
"I'm too busy. I have to finish my shield, and I have to do weights, and tomorrow I have to spend all day with Harald and Inga." Even saying her name makes my face twist. "I need to work on controlling"—I wave my hands—"everything."
"So you don't accidentally launch ice cubes at your fellow rooks?"
"How can you see into Erik's healing rooms?" I gape at him.
"I can't. But I have ears, princess."
I close my eyes. "Kain, stop it. I need privacy."
"You need protecting, until Thyrvi can do it for you."
There's something about hearing him say my bear's name that makes my heart skip.
"I don't need protecting in healing lessons."
"I need to know what they are planning and how they might hurt you," he snarls. I shake my head and begin to walk toward the cavern that leads back to the High Hall. He's beside me in an instant. "And as long as those murderous, cowardly little pieces of shit are in the same room as you?—"
I hold up my hand and cut him off. "Enough, Kain."
To my utmost surprise, he grabs my hand with his gloved one.
I freeze.
We stare at each other, time at a complete standstill, my heart thudding so loudly I swear all of Yggdrasil must be able to hear it.
Snow flurries in a sudden whirl of motion above me, and my hand is hot. Too hot. Instinctively, I pull it away. I'm not the least bit surprised when we both look down at it, and it's shining with blue frost.
"You touched me," Kain says, and I swear my heart quits pounding and stops altogether.
I never even imagined he could speak in this tone. It's not exactly vulnerable, but it's fucking close.
"Can I touch you again?" The words leave my lips in a rush, and he pauses before stepping back.
"No. I shouldn't have done that."
"It's fine—you have gloves on. It's no different from when we spar in glima ," I say, too quickly. The words run into each other.
"You make me stupid, princess," he growls.
"I've been thinking the same thing," I breathe. "Let me be stupid now. Let me touch you."
"No."
"I know you want me to. I can see it. It's okay, I'm not scared?—"
Fury sparks in his eyes, and his wolf flares to life beside him, snarling. "Do not tempt me like this, witch! Do you have any idea what danger you are in?" He shouts the words, but I don't flinch.
"From you?"
"Yes, from me," he hisses. "Do you not remember Branka?"
My stomach swoops unpleasantly. "You would never do that to me."
He leans close, as if to emphasize the heat rolling from his body. "You are na?ve enough to think a man who hasn't been touched in two hundred years would not be at risk of losing control around you?" He lets out a long, angry hiss of air between his teeth, and his wolf growls in unison. "Foolish fucking princess," he barks suddenly, then whirls around. He's gone before I can let out the breath I'm holding.
Fuck. Fuck! Maddy, why would you push him like that?
I pull my hand down my face, squeezing my lip with my frozen fingers, trying to force some sense into my body.
Idiot. Loki-cursed fool. He's right.
Of course he's right.
There's a thump beside me, then a massive shadow falls across my body.
"Thyrvi." I exhale hard.
"You are in danger?"
I close my eyes. "I think I might have been, yeah. But self-inflicted. Don't worry about it. This one is on me to fix." When I look at her, she's swinging her head to and fro.
"I smell prey."
"What kind of prey?" I ask cautiously.
"Fox."
"I've seen a few small animals in Featherblade," I say, but before I've finished the sentence, she's demonstrated a burst of speed I didn't know she was capable of, racing around the back of the Battleyard. "Thyrvi! Oh, for Odin's sake!"
I curse, then sprint after her.