26. Out of the Fire
Out of the Fire
Larissa
L arissa gripped the safety handle above her head as Anara navigated the truck out of a particularly deep hole in the road.
Darien had been unwilling to meet Anara’s eyes after packing up the camp, so he had opted to ride in the truck bed without saying a word.
Halla had insisted that Larissa take the seat in the cab where it was more comfortable, though comfortable was a relative term.
The darkness of the morning had been stripped away by the sun, yet Anara had not said much in the hours that passed.
After being tossed about like a marble in a jar, Larissa would be happy to never ride in Helga again.
These roads were never intended for their use; that much was clear.
They were meant only for the use of the Empress’ armored vehicles that could maneuver the neglected asphalt.
As sore as she felt, Larissa patted the seat cushion almost reassuringly as if to make up for her negative thoughts. After all, it wasn’t Helga’s fault the roads were so bad. She had gotten them this far.
As the road leveled out, Larissa let her right hand drift out the open window, catching the breeze across her fingers.
She tried not to hear the voices in her mind crying out for help, tried not to think about the way Darien’s fingers had felt interlaced with hers.
It was easier this way, focusing on the way her fingers danced in the wind instead of how close they had been to being caught.
Or the stupidity of what they were about to attempt.
“You’re mad at me too, huh?”
Larissa jumped at Anara’s voice. “No, I agreed with your decision.”
“Because of Halla?”
“Yes,” she said simply, hoping Anara couldn’t hear the way guilt tightened her throat.
“How are your memories coming?”
Larissa shrugged, shoving down the image of the locked door in her mind. “It’s harder for me to remember than it is for Darien.”
“I wonder why,” Anara muttered, her voice so soft Larissa almost missed the sarcasm.
Almost.
“You think I’m intentionally suppressing my memories?”
“Honestly, yes.” Anara stretched her neck.
Larissa flinched at the cracks that reverberated through the other girl’s body.
“You’ve never been a coward. You were nearly fearless when we were children, so determined to get out of your palace and see the world.
This version of you that hides from the truth, I don’t know who she is. ”
The pain came out of nowhere, sparking in her heart and followed by the swift flood of sorrow.
Larissa hadn’t expected such a strong emotional response to Anara’s words, and she hated herself when tears sprang to the back of her eyes.
She batted them away and clenched her jaw.
Why on Evrópa should she care what Anara thought of her?
But she did.
In her mind’s eye, she saw the two little girls playing on the side of the lake.
“Oh, víti .” Anara stared at her, ignoring the road.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounds.
You were my best friend, and I can see parts of you.
Like how much you hate that we left those people with the thraell , even if you won’t admit it .
Or your love for Halla. But the rest of you is hidden underneath the fear and doubt.
You’re not yourself, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not the person I loved. ”
Larissa couldn’t meet her gaze. “That was confusing, but I appreciate it anyway.” A moment passed. “I remember you.”
“You do?” Anara asked, caution laced with hope.
“Not everything, but I remember you were my first real friend.”
“You were mine. You weren’t intimidated by my royalty or galdr .”
Larissa snorted in quite an un-princess-like kind of way. “If I remember correctly, you weren’t as powerful back then.”
“If you remember anything at all, I’m glad.”
They quieted, but the tension evaporated. Finally, Larissa whispered, so softly she wondered if Anara would be able to hear her, “You’re right. I don’t want to remember everything, but I do want to remember some parts. Like you.”
The corner of Anara’s mouth twitched up. “Darien’s another one of those parts, I’m sure.”
“What?”
“I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.” Anara stuck out her tongue in mock disgust. “It’s almost as sappy as before. Worse, actually, with the whole tragic I-forgot-you-existed element.”
Again came that rush of unfamiliar emotions—the heat that started in her stomach, crawled up her throat, and rested in her cheeks. Larissa crossed her arms over her chest, propping her knees against the dash. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” Anara’s eyes were filled with mirth. “But I’ll pretend you don’t if that makes it easier.”
Larissa snorted, refusing to acknowledge this line of conversation any further.
Anara could make all the insinuations she wanted, but they didn’t mean a thing.
Larissa’s only focus was on finding safety for Halla with the Vienám.
Darien didn’t look at her in any specific way, and she certainly wasn’t looking at him any certain way either.
Shifting in her seat, she withdrew the gun from her waistline and rubbed her thumb over its bumpy grip.
Anara eyed the motion. “You’re gonna shoot me ‘cause I called you out on your crush?”
Larissa rolled her eyes as she checked how many bullets remained. She hoped three would be enough for what came next.
“Better keep that hidden once we reach Perle,” Anara added.
“I know.”
“We’ll be there soon.”
Larissa nodded, her tongue suddenly dry.
Today was Produce Day, the perfect cover to enter the city alongside hundreds of trucks passing through the gates.
Larissa had volunteered to drive Helga in, but Anara objected.
What if the sentries had already been alerted to what happened in Safír?
What if they’d been told to keep any eye out for her?
Besides, there wasn’t nearly enough produce in the truck bed to convince the sentries they were there for a drop-off.
It would have to be Darien, and he would have to use his galdr to persuade the sentries that everything was in order.
Larissa grabbed the useless papers, still sitting on the dash, that confirmed her credentials as Larissa Daldóttir, the first-born and only daughter of Dal.
The words leapt from the page, accusing Larissa of her lies.
She had stolen Halla’s birthright; that was as clear as the writing on the page.
Everything she did now was for Halla’s sake.
She would get Halla to the Vienám, where her birth status would be inconsequential, where neither the thraell nor the Empress’ sentires could ever find her.
She owed Dal and Vern that much. Larissa crumpled the pages in her hands before unceremoniously dumping them on the floor mats.
Her stomach turned at the thought of what awaited them within the Walls, her mind already imagining a hundred different ways it could go wrong.
At least if she were the one driving, she could react to whatever happened, but hiding in the truck bed with Halla, Larissa would have to put her full trust in Darien’s abilities.
“It’s a calculated risk,” Anara said.
Larissa sighed in exasperation. “I didn’t realize your galdr helped you read minds.”
Anara smiled. “I don’t need galdr to know what you’re thinking.”
Larissa bit her tongue before she could start arguing with Anara about their plan. They’d made their decision. She had to think about something else, anything else. She asked the first question that came to mind. “What are the different forms of galdr ?”
Anara’s brows pinched together. “You don’t remember?” She sighed when Larissa shook her head. “You’ve already seen the Rubinians’ and Safirians’ galdr first hand. My people are shifters. Safirians can manipulate a person’s thoughts and feelings, often without them knowing it.”
The back of Larissa’s neck tingled. She had been aware of Darien’s intrusion in her mind the night before, but to think that someone else might have been capable of doing it without her knowledge was unsettling. A thought occurred, and she wondered how she had not seen it before.
“Do you think someone of Safirian blood erased Darien’s and my memories and replaced them with false ones?”
Anara scowled. “I’ve thought of it, but it wouldn’t make sense. The most powerful Safirian alive is King Torsten. He thinks you’re both dead. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be strong enough to do it.”
Larissa shook her head. “Then who?”
“Possibly the gods themselves.”
Larissa scoffed. “Why would they care about us?”
“Someone cared enough to hide you.” Anara sniffed the air before taking the left at the fork in the road. “Diamantians are illusionists. It’s part of how Shiko gained the upper hand at her coronation.”
“How is that any different than what Darien can do?”
“Darien’s galdr allows him to influence someone’s actions.
Diamantians can make you believe you’re seeing, hearing, smelling, and touching things that don’t exist without you being aware that you were being manipulated at all.
The most powerful wielders, like Shiko, can create entire worlds of illusions.
” Anara’s voice hardened. “On my worst days, I wondered if I’d been captured by Shiko and imprisoned inside one of her illusions, condemned to seek you and Darien for the rest of my life.
Always alone, always moving, always fearful. ”
The hair on Larissa’s arms stood up. “How do you know that you’re not?”
Anara flashed a quick grin, but shadows lingered in her eyes. She’d hinted with the slavers at the hard decisions she’d made to survive. What had Anara endured in the past fifty years?
“Halla,” Anara answered. “Much too creative for Shiko’s taste.”
Larissa chuckled. “She’s probably talking Darien’s ear off about the AEsir , Vanir , and Jotnar . Those stories mean everything to her. Probably even more so now.”