Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sylvi
Sometime after he’d abandoned me in his pavilion, I’d felt him return, his magic still clinging to the tent like frost on glass.
I’d heard the quiet rustle of a leather satchel, the soft thud of metal as he set something near my trunk.
I hadn’t moved, hadn’t dared speak. Because if I had… I would’ve crumbled.
I had already let my guard down too far. Stripped bare, not just my body, but every wall I’d ever built. And he’d walked out on me. Had left me naked and shattered. Confused and angry.
The old me would’ve run after him, demanding answers. Forcing him to face the reality of his actions, not allowing him to cower in his ice cave. But I’d not had the strength nor the will.
I knew why he’d run. I’d scared the shit out of him. Truthfully, I’d scared myself, too. But I’d had the courage to face that fear, to barrel through it. Because even if I knew last night was all we’d ever get, I was willing to risk it. For him.
To what end, I had no idea. It wasn’t like I had any hopes that Jack and I could actually be together one day. Skadgard would never accept our union, even if this marriage alliance didn’t exist.
To be with Jack, I’d have to settle for being his secret. His shame. His whore and nothing more. Which hurt in ways I couldn’t even fathom.
Then there was that truth neither of us had dared speak aloud since we were children, the one we’d danced around in silence. The fact that he would live for centuries, practically unchanged, barely touched by time, while I aged and withered away.
Maybe that’s why I’d decided to shred every ounce of dignity. Maybe that was why I’d decided that I deserved to have him, even for one night. But after he’d left me so broken, I now wondered if he ever deserved me at all.
So, when he’d returned, I’d stayed still, stiff as stone beneath his furs, feigning sleep, afraid that if I opened my eyes, I’d beg him to stay.
And when he’d left again, without much but a whispered I’m sorry, I buried my face in his pillow and cried until the tears bled dry and only hollowness resided within me.
After the harrowing day we’d had, I should’ve been able to close my eyes and allow both the physical and emotional bruises to take me under, but I’d not been able to sleep despite being bone-tired.
I’d stared at the still frosted, fur-covered walls until first light, when the new dawn awakened and I’d had no choice but to roll out of bed.
By then, the entire camp was up and already preparing the bodies for the funeral pyre.
Earlier, Ingrid had brought me the leather armor she’d helped peel off me the night before.
Jack had apparently instructed a page to dry it by the fire using heat-stones nestled in the coals—an old northern trick used to keep the leather from cracking.
If I was being given back my armor instead of attendant robes, it seemed I was in fact being reinstated as captain.
Something about the whole thing didn’t settle right with me.
I’d once felt nothing but pride and honor to serve my kingdom. Now, there was not only disappointment for the lashing Jack had endured, but also shame. I was meant to be a protector of the crown, and I’d allowed my feelings for Jack to get in the way of my duty to the realm.
I couldn’t be both the captain of the guard and the girl yearning for her prince. Not if I wanted to do my job well.
Peering down at my trunk, a solemn breath trickled from my lips as I looked upon Moonshadow.
Even though the blade was slick with lake silt, it still gleamed.
I couldn’t say I’d not been heartbroken when I thought I’d lost the blade during the attack, but weapons could be replaced.
The reckless fool had risked his safety by diving into those frostwraith infested waters to retrieve it.
Gods, I wanted to smack him. Going in after it hadn’t been necessary.
But I knew why he’d done it; it had been a peace offering. His way of making amends. But I wasn’t sure if I was ready for apologies. Bringing me back Moonshadow could hardly make up for what he’d done.
I picked it up with more bitterness than grace, rubbed the flat of the blade clean with a cloth, and used it like a mirror. What stared back at me was horrifying: sunken eyes, red rims, skin devoid of color.
I looked awful, though I felt worse.
But I just needed to look presentable, so I braided my hair tightly, tucked in every flyaway, sheathed Moonshadow into the horizontal scabbard at my waist, and pinned the emblem to my leather breastplate before stepping out of the tent and into the breath of a new dawn stretching across the camp.
Ash-pink clouds blanketed the sky, and the scent of pine smoke and horsehair soaked the air.
Tents were being broken down. Wagons packed. Fires snuffed. Smoke still curled from the dying embers as soldiers moved through the snow-dusted ground. A page tended to Draumskelmir, ensuring he was tacked-up, barding gleaming, reins cinched, and saddlebags secured.
It didn’t take me long to spot Jack across from his pavilion, the sight of him twisting something razor-edged inside my chest.
Dressed in his black leather armor, his deep blue cloak swaying in the breeze, he stood close to Ravin, whispering something to him before clapping a hand on his shoulder.
Jack’s hair was tied back into a loose knot, stray wisps curling over his brow.
Even from this distance, the silver stubble shadowing his jaw was visible, and a shiver ran down my spine remembering the feel of it against my skin as he’d kissed my neck.
I blew out a steadying breath, trying not to let heat sweep all over my body.
Then, as if sensing me, he turned, and his eyes found mine.
For half a breath, the world stilled. Every noise faded, every movement dulled to a blur. It was as if the world had stopped spinning as I stood alone, staring directly into the eye of a brutal winter storm.
His silvery-blue gaze was nothing but slashes of cool steel. No warmth, no hint of the smoldering fire I’d seen in the depths of his eyes the night before.
Jack offered me a faint nod. Prince to captain. Closed off. Distant. He might as well have stuck a rusted blade into my gut.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stood straighter, shoulders back, my face betraying no emotion as I faintly nodded in return. If cold distance was what he wanted, then he’d have it.
Astrid appeared beside me like a well-timed wind gust, clapping a hand to my shoulder and saving me from the worst stalemate of my life.
“I hear congratulations are in order, Captain,” she said, the corner of her mouth tugging upward.
“Though, truth be told, we all knew Varik wasn’t going to last. Asshole left camp early, too—he and three other guards.
Took advantage of the fact that everyone was busy packing up. ”
“Did anyone see where he was headed?”
She arched a conspiratorial brow. “Not toward Thrymgard.”
“Hmm.”
“My guess, he’s run off back to Isenheim to alert Lord Kaelven of what happened.”
I exhaled through my nose. “He could’ve sent a hawk.”
Astrid shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it. We’re better off without him.”
I said nothing, but the prickle on the back of my neck was impossible to ignore.
Something felt off. Before I could give voice to the unease, the crowd began to gather near the center of camp, where the funeral pyre had been erected.
The five bodies of our fallen comrades had been wrapped in white linen, laid side by side atop a bed of stacked logs and coals.
Jack approached, torch in hand, his expression carved in sharp lines, jaw tight, eyes shadowed with a grief too heavy for words. As he reached the edge of the funeral pyre, he paused, sweeping his gaze slowly across the gathered soldiers.
“My brothers and sisters of Isenheim,” he began, voice deep but soft, “last night, we lost five of our own to a darkness older than memory. An evil not seen in these lands for thousands of years. And I…” He looked down, just briefly.
“I failed to protect them. For that, I offer no excuse. Only the weight of their deaths carved deep into my bleeding heart.”
The wind stirred the edge of his cloak. “But had it not been for Captain Sylvanna Isenwulf’s courage, more would have perished.
She stood between us and death when few others could or would.
” His words were veiled, but everyone shared a glance, knowing exactly what he meant—the who he was referring to.
His gaze softened with something like longing, thawing the mask hiding the true face of my best friend.
My chest tightened, and I wanted to tug on our tether, to share every thought scratching at the walls of my skull, but before I could take my next breath, his gaze hardened again, flashing not only with respect but also regret, perhaps something more. “We are indebted to you, Captain.”
His words hit harder than I was prepared to receive, and I gasped gently with emotion.
All heads turned. A ripple moved through the crowd like the roll of distant thunder.
Helmets dipped, fists pressed to hearts in silent salute.
One by one, the guards raised their weapons, not just to honor the fallen, but to welcome me back into their fold.
Jack turned back to the pyre, and his voice gained steel, rising high above the camp.
“Let this be our vow: I will not rest until the beasts who did this are hunted down and made to answer. I will drag them into the light and deliver them to Náldrún himself if I must. Because we do not forget our fallen. Not in Isenheim, not in Skadgard.”
He raised the torch high. “Blood for blood,” he hollered, and the camp echoed as one.
“Blood for blood!” they cried, the chant crashing through the clearing like a war drum. “Blood for blood! Blood for blood!”