Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Sylvi
Mist licked the surface of the frozen lake like curling breath slithering toward the shore.
I crouched near the ridge above its northern edge, dried roots and slick stone crunching softly beneath my boots as I studied the land below.
The basin clearing where the envoy had made camp lay quiet—too quiet.
An eerie, unnatural hush clung to the landscape, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
Above me, clouds dragged low and heavy, pregnant with snow, flurries already beginning to fall in lazy spirals. The air carried that sharp, metallic tang before a storm, the taste of cold iron and something older, wilder, like the breath of winter magic itself.
My gaze moved methodically across the terrain, trained by years of shadowing my father.
I noted the windward rise where sentries had been posted, the dense tree line, the way the mist gathered thickly along the rocks like a milky shroud.
No clean vantage points for an ambush, which was good.
But the southeast slope dropped too sharply, a natural funnel, dangerous if someone with the right knowledge chose to exploit it.
And the lake, crystalline and half-frozen, could betray its strength under shifting weight.
Not a present threat, unless crossed, but a variable Varik might overlook.
I stood slowly, flexing my fingers inside my gloves, when the crunch of boots behind me broke the stillness.
“Never one for rest, huh?” came a familiar feminine voice, amused but warm.
I turned to find Lieutenant Astrid Vintersdottir approaching, her tall frame clad in layered leathers and wolf fur.
She was nearly a foot taller than me, with pale blonde hair plaited into several long, thick braids, each threaded with silver clips that caught the dim firelight like shards of steel.
A long axe was slung across her back, a sword at her waist.
“Someone has to make sure we’re not ambushed in the middle of the night,” I said, smirking despite myself.
Astrid huffed. “Gods know Varik’s capable, but he doesn’t see the land the way you do.”
There was no malice in her tone, only a quiet truth. We’d trained side by side for years, and like me, she’d fought to prove she belonged in a world that often expected us to fail.
“He’s thorough,” I offered. “But he’s not from the mountains. He doesn’t feel the wind like I do.”
Astrid nodded. “The eastern fire posts are too close together. Smoke’s pooling in the wrong direction. If we were being tracked, they’d find us before we saw them.”
I arched a brow. “You noticed that too, huh?”
She smiled wryly. “Learned from the best.”
I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “Tell Lieutenant Ivar to shift them ten paces north. Stagger the watch in fives instead of threes; it’ll widen the coverage, buy us seconds if something comes out of those trees. But make it sound like Varik’s orders.”
“You sure you don’t want to just tell him yourself? Aside from Varik’s close allies, the guard still respects you, Sylvi. I know it’s probably hard to see because he’s got his bootlickers barking orders, but most of us still stand with you. Just thought you should know.”
I smiled faintly. “Thank you, Astrid. That means more than I can say. But right now, my fate lies with the queen.”
Astrid’s smile faltered. “You earned that post; we all know it—even Varik knows it. To lose your command after you were the one attacked…makes no fucking sense.”
I looked back at the lake where gusts stirred the mist like restless spirits. “It’s done. I can’t change it. All I can do now is help where I’m allowed.”
She squeezed my shoulder before turning toward camp. “I’ll make sure Ivar makes the changes. Varik’s probably too busy sipping mead to notice.”
She meant it as comfort, but the reminder didn’t settle right. I didn’t want Varik to fail, because his failure would mean our failure.
When I was alone again, silence pressed in.
The wind shifted, and I inhaled deeply. Something strange prickled against my senses…
earthy and sharp, spiced with woodsmoke and something almost sweet, like warmed eldbrann.
I could see more clearly, too. The mist no longer obscured the far tree line.
And the sounds—gods, the sounds. I could hear the clacking of tree branches as if they were rattling right over my ears.
I was about to turn back to camp when Ravin slipped out from the shadows like a phantom, red curls wind-tossed, his cloak half undone, grin as lopsided as ever. “Aren’t you supposed to protect the prince, not give him heart tremors that could kill him?”
I smirked, despite the shock of his appearance still rattling through me. That woodsmoke and spicy eldbrann scent now hitting me smack in the face made me realize the scent that had permeated through my nose and lungs moments ago had been Ravin’s.
Winter’s grace. How had I smelled him before he even arrived? I dropped my gaze, hoping to mask my reaction to the anomaly. “How’s he doing?”
He tilted his head ever so slightly, as if assessing what I could possibly be hiding behind my averted gaze.
Gods. Did anything ever get past him? He sighed heavily, then said, “He’s letting Sascha tend to his back.
Skadi knows the idiot didn’t want to. Too worried about you to care that he was caked in dried blood. ”
My chest tightened. “He’s still bleeding that profusely?”
A short wind gust slammed through us and Ravin adjusted his cloak. “I came looking for you before he undressed, but I did notice he wasn’t wincing as badly, his shoulders weren’t as hunched. I think the healing is ramping up, though he probably needs a couple more days of bandages.”
“Sascha is a junior healer, but she trained under Maelis. He’s in good hands.”
Ravin tilted his head again, those golden eyes of his making me want to scurry under a rock. Not even Jack could cut through stone like Ravin could with his sunlit gaze. “You haven’t checked on him since we left the city.”
The words struck like a hammer against my heart. “I’ve barely had time to adjust to my new role as attendant…”
“You know that’s not what I meant, Sylvi. He’s worried about you. Said you’ve been distant—barely making eye contact, not wanting to talk to him. This is not you.”
I hesitated, staring out at the lake again. “I know. I just…needed space.”
“Sylvi…”
I sighed. “All of this has messed with my head, Ravin, okay? Losing the post. Watching his back get torn apart because of me… And now going from a commanding officer to being treated like I should be serving tea. I know he’s dealing with so much, too, and I feel like shit for pulling away.
I just don’t know how to be near him without feeling like I’m lost. Like I don’t know how I’m supposed to act.
Our roles have always been so delineated, but now?
I guess…I just feel so responsible for what happened to him, I don’t know how to look him in the eyes.
Not to mention it’s humiliating to stand next to him dressed like…
” I lowered my chin, trying to stifle the sob lodged in my throat.
“It shames me to be dressed like an attendant when I used to stand beside him and feel pride.”
Ravin brushed his shoulder against mine, eyes watching the mist roll over the lake.
“The only role he cares about is the one where you’re his friend,” he said.
“Rank, titles. That’s not how he measures the love he has for others, Syl.
Jack would never think less of you because you no longer wear a badge.
And he certainly doesn’t blame you for what happened to him. ”
I scoffed. “I would.”
“Gods, Sylvi. If there is someone he cherishes more than anything in this world, it’s you.
Though he won’t show it, because Náldrún knows he embraces that ice in his blood like a lifeline when he wants to, but your silence is killing him.
He’d choose flogging over you not speaking to him. Please, you need to talk to him.”
I let out a long breath.
“At least stop creeping around this lake like you’re looking to run into whatever hides in those hills. The camp is secure. And I honestly can’t take any more of his brooding; it makes for poor company.”
I smacked his shoulder, a short smile tugging at my lips.
“Ow,” he yelped, laughing. “It’s the truth. You know how he gets when he doesn’t get what he wants. He sulks around like a wet, angry cat. It’s annoying.”
I rolled my eyes in agreement. It was annoying. But also, the thought of my wet, angry cat made my heart ache, and it made me want to find him and give him a hug.
Ravin was right. Distancing myself from Jack wasn’t helping either of us.
I did one more sweep of the area, my eyes assessing everything too closely, not fully satisfied with Varik’s patrol arrangements.
Ravin slung an arm around my shoulders. “Let it go, Syl. Just for tonight. Jack will rest easier knowing you’re warm and still breathing.”
I gave a small nod. “You’re right. My stomach is grumbling, anyway.”
“Good, because my next option was going to be to sling you over my shoulder and deposit you inside his pavilion myself.”
I burst into laughter. “Oh, I would’ve love to see you try.”
The campfire glowed at the clearing’s center, flames crackling against the snow-packed earth. The snow flurries had ceased for a bit, which was odd given how heavy the clouds had looked, but at least it kept the ground from getting soggy.
Soldiers sat in loose clusters around the fire, some eating, others murmuring quietly, their voices rough and haggard.
Armor clinked softly, firelight glinting off steel and snow-dusted fur.
A few sharpened weapons, others played dice or passed a flask between them.
Everyone was trying to enjoy a moment of normalcy—or at least, the illusion of it.