52. Fight and Flight
Fight and Flight
Anara
“What do you mean I can’t go?”
Anara winced at the incredulity in Larissa’s voice, noting the sharp undertone of fury that grew ever closer to the surface, knowing that neither emotion would do anything to sway Torsten’s mind.
Anara shifted to better accommodate the dull pain that covered every inch of her body, but the most potent wound was inside.
They’d lost Darien. Again . After searching for so long, Anara had found him, found them both, but now Darien was gone. She never should have left them.
Larissa’s curled hands rested on the council table before her as she glared at the blood-covered king. Though healed, Torsten still favored his right side and winced as he adjusted his position. Anara’s bitter thoughts found satisfaction in Torsten’s discomfort.
Masai, Halla, and Kai also sat at the table.
Masai’s healing of Torsten had granted him instant access to the intimacy of their council, but Halla and Kai had been included to tell them what had transpired on the farm.
Masai looked away in shame when he heard of how Calder had broken through the haze created by Masai’s concoction, but Anara still didn’t understand how he’d been able to get out of the cellar.
When she’d asked Halla, the girl had turned a green shade of discomfort, but only answered, “I don’t know. ”
When she relayed how Aagen had fought Calder to give her and Kai time to escape, Halla had stared at the table as tears ran down her face.
She’d glanced at Kai only once before looking away.
The boy hadn’t uttered a single word, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.
Anara would have pressed, if not for Larissa’s revelation of her conversation with the Norn.
Anara hadn’t seen Vereandi, but she’d witnessed Darien’s bloody body one moment, and the next it was gone.
It wasn’t impossible to think that the goddess of fate had been involved.
When Larissa told Torsten of her plan to go to Hel and retrieve Darien’s soul, Torsten’s answer, though slow in forthcoming, was a resounding “no.”
Torsten leaned forward, his movements slow and measured. “I mean what I said, Lovisa. The goddesses of fate do not give anything without a price. Hel does not give back what is hers. If you go to Helheim, you will not return. You are the only one foretold to overthrow Shiko. Maybe after—”
Anara scoffed, soft enough that only Masai, sitting next to her, caught it.
Larissa shook her head. “I only have until the next full moon, that’s what Vereandi said. I can’t wait for the war to end.”
“And we can’t afford to lose you before we’ve won, or all of this has been for nothing.”
“I killed Calder.” Larissa’s voice went deadly soft. “If I don’t bring Darien back, you have no one left.”
Anara resisted a shiver at Larissa’s words, though Kai flinched violently in his seat.
There was no regret in Larissa’s tone over what she’d done to Calder.
It wasn’t that Anara would’ve done anything differently, but after watching Larissa wrestle with the darkness of war, Larissa’s newfound callousness was nothing less than shocking.
Even Kai, typically so unruffled, looked a bit sick.
Torsten rubbed at his temples. “You think I don’t know that? He was the last of my bloodline, the last of my heritage.”
“That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Your stupid bloodline.
” Larissa stood, her chair falling to the ground behind her.
Halla sank lower into her chair, jerking away when Kai reached out to touch her shoulder.
Anara tucked away the interaction in her mind as Larissa leaned over the table.
“Darien was more than your legacy; he was your son , Torsten.”
Torsten rose, his palms flat on the table. “And you took him away from me! You raced off to find Calder, and Darien ran off to find you without any support. It’s your fault my sons are dead.”
“My fault?” Larissa spat. “Who gave up on Aeron the moment you heard he was Calder? Who berated Darien every chance he could when Darien didn’t live up to your ridiculous expectations? No wonder the gods gave him a new father!”
“ Out !” Torsten thundered, his shaking hand pointed at the door. “Get out!”
“Gladly.” Larissa spun on her heel, nearly sprinting across the length of the hall.
Halla and Kai followed while Anara and Masai were the last to exit. Just as Anara closed the door, she heard Torsten’s dry sob. Even so, Anara’s heart remained unmoved. There was responsibility, and there was loyalty. Torsten had chosen the first. He would have to live with his choice.
Larissa led them down the halls of the Safírian palace to the wing where they’d been given their quarters. She flung open her door, hardly noticing as the others entered cautiously behind her. Anara’s foot firmly closed the door behind them just as Larissa reached for her gun.
“What are you doing?” Halla squeaked, her eyes glued to the gun.
“Torsten can’t stop me. I’m leaving. You’re staying here.”
“But—”
“No, Halla. Vereandi said that I could go, just me. My bond to Darien is the only thing that will get me into Helheim. And Vereandi’s rune will hopefully get me out.”
“But how?” Masai asked.
“I don’t know.” She threw a bag on her bed and shoved the nearest clothes into it. “I’ll figure it out.”
“What about the funeral?” Anara asked.
Fire blazed in Larissa’s eyes. “There’s no funeral because Darien isn’t dead!”
Galdr burst from Larissa’s hands in a wave of heat that sent them all stepping back out of range.
Anara moved toward her as if the heat radiating from Larissa’s skin didn’t burn.
She understood the fire in Larissa’s soul, born of loss and anger.
The same flame had burned in Anara since the devastation of her people, when she’d been forced to kill her own family for survival.
Anara laid her hand on Larissa’s shoulder, waiting until the other girl met her gaze. Tears gleamed in her eyes.
The heat around Larissa faded, and Anara sucked in a breath of cool, salty air wafting in from the open balcony window. “If you want to fight your way out, you know I’ll be by your side. But I have another plan . . .”
The body wrapped in white linen atop the funeral pyre was not Darien’s, though few were privy to that knowledge.
Only those who’d been in the garden knew that Darien’s body had vanished, and Torsten meant to keep it that way.
Another cadaver had been provided from the many unclaimed corpses in the city.
Even knowing it wasn’t Darien didn’t ease the stabbing ache in Anara’s chest as Torsten lit the pyre on fire with Queen Einsa at his side.
The flames reflected against the smooth surface of the shells and polished stones that formed the shape of a boat around the mound.
It was a picturesque scene as the crowd of mourners stood in the garden with the sun lowering itself beneath the waves on the horizon.
Even the pyre had an odd kind of beauty, having been constructed on the edge of the cliff right over where Darien had died, covering the bloodstained ground.
The burning would allow his soul freedom to travel beyond.
Or, at least, that was what Torsten claimed as he gave his son’s eulogy, speaking of Darien’s bravery, his goodness, his complete dedication to his people even to the bitter end. How he’d killed the Empress’ War Dog to ensure his nation’s survival.
How he’d given his all.
Anara averted her gaze, unable to stand the sight.
Beside her, Larissa stared out at the open ocean as the sun disappeared, plunging them in the darkness of the night.
The flames of the pyre burned brighter, throwing light and shadows against the mourners.
It revealed the dryness of Larissa’s cheeks, the hardening of her eyes.
Anara nearly wished that Larissa would wail as inconsolably as she had when holding Darien’s body.
The dead emptiness in Larissa’s eyes frightened Anara more than any cries of desperation.
Remaining at the pyre’s side, Torsten raised a hand to motion the mourners forward.
They would pass, one by one, to give their final remarks that would follow Darien into whatever awaited him.
As a warrior slain in battle, surely he’d be welcome into Valholl if such a place still remained after Ragnarok .
Anara wasn’t sure. Besides, she knew where his soul was, where Larissa already planned to go, and its mistress would be anything but welcoming.
As the Princess of Perle, Larissa was first in line.
Anara followed her heavy tread, ready to support her, but Larissa’s spine remained stiff.
She stopped at the head of the pyre, staring into the flames.
Torsten stared at her but said nothing. He’d not spoken to her since their argument that morning.
Einsa offered a look of sorrow and regret; it was the most emotion Anara had seen from Torsten’s second-queen, but Larissa ignored them both.
Her lips moved, but only air passed through.
Whatever words were written on her heart, Larissa kept them to herself.
She moved on, allowing Anara to step up behind her.
Anara inclined her head toward the pyre and whispered low enough that she could not be heard over the crackling of the flames. “Hold on, Darien. Lara is coming.”
She stepped away, making room for Masai and the remaining line of generals, citizens, and rebels that had come to pay their respects.
Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she moved toward Larissa’s side.
The air was thick with the smells of salt and death.
After Masai’s brief pause at the pyre, he walked away, continuing back through the gardens with a quick glance at Anara, who nodded minutely in response.