Chapter 18 #2
The terrain dipped just enough to shelter us from the worst of the wind, but not enough to ease my worry. We were still too exposed. And that feeling, the tightness in my gut, the prickling at the back of my neck, hadn’t faded since morning.
Something was out there. Watching. Waiting.
I wanted to scout the perimeter myself, to sink into the trees and find the source of that dark magic, but in my weakened state, I would be more of a liability than anything else if a true threat emerged.
And that truth chilled me deeper than the mountain air, the kind of cold not even a fae blessed with ice-magic could tolerate.
It was easy to be brave when you had the strength of more than a hundred males, could summon ice and shadows and turn them into weapons.
Not to mention unnatural speed, agility, stamina, plus accelerated healing.
I’d not known anything else since my powers manifested at the age of seven.
It wasn’t until my mother shackled me with that collar that I realized how reliant I’d become on my magic.
It had humbled me, but it had also made me aware of how powerless I truly felt without it.
The fear that if we encountered an ambush from the Isogrim, or from one of the beasts that lurked in the cave dwellings near the Shadow Court ruins, I wouldn’t be able to protect my people, was slowly chipping away at my sanity.
Draumskelmir came to a stop at the center of the camp where the royal pavilion had already been erected, its blue and silver pennants snapping in the wind.
Soldiers had built a large fire nearby, smoke rising in thin coils as they packed it with more firewood.
I removed my helmet and handed it to the page waiting for me at the entrance to my tent, my body trembling as I leaned too heavily against my horse.
Draumskelmir’s posture stilled, muscles tightening beneath me as if bracing for my pain.
A low, impatient blow escaped his nostrils when I took too long.
I dismounted slowly, every movement a challenge. My knees nearly gave out when my boots hit the frozen earth, a muted groan slipping from my lips as white stars burst behind my eyes. Gripping the saddle horn, I muttered several curses until the haze cleared.
“Thank you, Tryggur,” I said, patting his muzzle. “Time for you to eat and rest. You’ve earned it, my friend.”
He gave another gruff snort but allowed the page to take his reins. As he was led away toward the troughs, I stood motionless for a moment, breath fogging the air, trying not to look as wrecked as I felt.
Varik approached, removing his helmet. His shoulder-length dark hair, partially braided in the traditional Skadgardian style, was drawn back from a strong brow and deep-set eyes the color of black river stone.
A faint scar traced the edge of his right cheekbone, disappearing beneath the curve of his jaw.
He said nothing at first, but his mouth was set in a firm line, gaze narrowed, as if he were weighing what to say against what was expected of him.
“Your Highness,” he said with a short bow, a gloved hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Camp perimeter is secure. Three sentries posted along the ridge lines, two patrols running shifts every quarter mark. We doubled the watch rotation at the east end near the frozen lake.”
I nodded. “Good. Rotate the archers as well. No one should be standing guard in one position for more than two shifts. Not in this cold.”
He inclined his head, already turning away when I added, “And make sure Sylvi’s things are moved to my pavilion.”
Varik paused, his jaw flexing slightly, the kind of tension one might miss if they didn’t know him well.
I met his stare without blinking. “Is there a problem, Captain?”
Varik hesitated only a second longer, then gave a crisp nod. “None, Your Highness. I’ll have her things brought right away.” He departed with a shallow bow, disappearing into the shadowed maze of tents.
I remained where I stood, the fire nearby crackling, but its warmth felt distant, unreachable beneath the weight of my armor. I took a slow breath, willing my shoulders to stay squared, to not let the ache show—not here, not in front of my soldiers.
Tiny flurries spiraled through the camp, the faint smell of wet stone and frozen earth foretelling an impending snowstorm—one I hoped would be gone by daybreak. I took a deep breath, letting the snowflakes coat the inside of my lungs, the chill blissfully cooling my body.
The healer Mistress Maelis had sent, along with one of my attendants, approached with Ravin beside them.
“Your Highness,” they said in unison, offering quick curtsies.
I nodded, but my gaze swept behind them, and disappointment swelled inside me when I realized Sylvi wasn’t among them.
“She’s scanning the perimeter,” Ravin said.
My eyes flicked to him, brow drawn.
“That shouldn’t surprise you. You know how she is, Jack. She doesn’t trust Varik with the safety of this envoy, no matter what anyone tells her.”
“I’m not surprised,” I muttered. “But that doesn’t make me any less worried.”
Ravin exhaled and fell into step beside me as I ambled forward. “Sylvi is more than capable. We both know she can handle herself.”
“Capable doesn’t mean invulnerable. She was nearly killed two days ago, and whatever is hiding in those mountains is far more dangerous than a few rebels with knives. Not to mention she’s unarmed.”
“You really think Sylvi would patrol unprepared?”
“No. But—”
“Then stop worrying,” he said, clapping a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Let Sascha look at your back. I’ll find Sylvi and make sure she hasn’t wandered into any monster nests.”
I hesitated. “I’d rather go myself.”
Ravin’s brow lifted. “I can practically smell the blood caked on you. If you show up staggering and looking half-dead, you won’t hear the end of it. Go with the healer. Let me do this.”
A muscle in my jaw ticked, and I almost laughed because I knew he was right. Despite being angry with me, she’d rip me a new one for going to look for her instead of treating my wounds. I finally gave a nod. The pain was rising again, and I couldn’t wait to get all this metal off me.
“Tell her…that I…” I stopped myself. “Never mind. Just make sure she’s safe.”
Ravin smirked, already turning. “I’ll tell her you’re brooding like a sullen poet and insisted she return to the center of camp before dinner.” Then he disappeared among the guards.