Chapter 30
Kopa, íseldur
Silla had faced many new changes since her arrival at Kopa, but she wasn’t certain she’d ever adjust to the relentless fussing over her appearance.
Oh, stop it, she wanted to say as Hild repositioned a particular pin for at least the third time.
But though Silla doubted an errant braid would cost her the northern jarls’ swords, she recognized that the girl was only doing her job.
And there was something to be said for those who gave it their very best effort.
So Silla smothered a yawn and let her thoughts drift to the night ahead. Her debut, Jarl Hakon had called it. Eisa Volsik would be officially presented to the most powerful families of the north. She’d been preparing for this night for weeks, a fact that had her nerves on end.
It is an opportunity for us to amass power, purred Myrkur.
Why do you even want that? she demanded, against her better judgment.
I do so love to play, whispered the god, sending a shiver through Silla. She focused on the moons stitched into the cuffs of her gown, trying to shut Him out.
These jarls will come to our cause, or we will bend them to it.
With an irritated huff, Silla closed her eyes. She thought of dimples; a broken desk; the fact that Rey was back in Kopa. Myrkur hissed, His grip on her relenting. But she knew He was only biding His time.
The dismayed cries of her queensguard signaled Rey’s arrival. As the door swung open, Ingvarr’s plaintive voice reached Silla’s ears.
“You must leave your weapons at the door—”
But it slammed shut, muffling whatever else he planned to say. Silla smiled wide as Rey’s boots thudded on the floor. It was clear his mood was as bright as a thunderstorm, and she must be mad, because she found it positively endearing.
“You don’t need twenty-seven guards beyond your door, Silla, not now that I’m back.”
Her smile spread wider. “I’m glad to see you, too.”
“I—” sputtered Hild, eyes going wide as Rey lumbered closer. “I think that will do.” And then she scurried off.
As Rey stepped into view, Silla understood why the girl had been so eager to leave. Clad in a dark-blue tunic that revealed the halda tattoos coiling up his throat, Rey had folded his thick arms over his chest, and his axe eyes were sharper than Silla had seen in a while.
His expression was so stern, she could not help but laugh. And as Rey’s scowl deepened, warmth spiraled through her. Gods, but she was glad to have him back, even if they’d each been busy with separate tasks throughout the day.
“Quiet, woman,” he muttered. “At least I’m not clad in red this time.”
“We match,” said Silla, smoothing a hand along her gown’s bodice. Midnight blue, it shimmered with golden stitchings of suns and stars and moons. A white fox fur stole hugged her shoulders, and a delicate crown of steel and gold was woven into her hair.
Silla felt Rey’s gaze rake from her toes to the top of her crown.
Hild had applied kohl around her eyes and a pigment to her lips.
When Silla had stared into the mirror, she’d been dumbstruck.
This was a woman of grace and beauty. This was Eisa.
She paused for Rey’s reaction, but after a weighted moment, he only looked away.
“What is it?” asked Silla, stepping forward and clasping his hand.
His gaze swung back to hers, torchlight catching the golden embers in his brown eyes. A muscle in his jaw twitched, as though he chewed on words he did not wish to voice. “It’s only—” He sighed. “—sometimes I wish we could go back to the shield-home, when it was just the two of us.”
She slid her arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug. “I’ve felt the same,” she admitted. “Everything is so…complicated here.”
Myrkur stretched, sending new thoughts spiraling through Silla. I’m starting to question my own thoughts and emotions, she wanted to scream. I’m starting to question my ability to know a lie from truth.
Rey eased away from her. “There is much we must speak of before the feast,” he said, clasping her hands in his.
The worry in his voice had Silla’s stomach twisting. She knew Rey had been to the falconry tower to investigate the missing letters, but she’d asked him to look into correspondence from Saga. “Was there word?”
“No word.” Silla’s shoulders slumped as Rey led her to a bench near the hearth. Where was her sister? Had her letters been stolen as well?
Saga is dead, whispered Myrkur. I would sense her if she were in these lands.
“Quiet,” Silla snapped, then cast Rey a guilty look. “He’s…vocal.”
Rey watched her silently, the worry plain on his face. But as Silla made to sit down, Rey’s arms shot out, and he pulled her onto his lap. “Better,” he whispered, sending a warm shiver down her spine. “If He bothers you tonight, you squeeze my hand. I’ll make excuses and whisk you away.”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Silla teased, though her voice came out flat.
“No. In fact, each time the god speaks in your mind, I think of a new creative way I’d make Him pay.”
Useless taunts from a useless mortal, sneered Myrkur, causing Silla to wince.
“I despise that you’ve had to deal with Him alone.” Rey glowered and pressed on. “I need you to tell me everything that happened in my absence.”
And she did. Silla started with her attempts to find a way to rid herself of Myrkur, and Rey’s expression darkened with each failure—the books, the Weaver, and last of all, Fallgerd.
“Are you certain the old man died at your hand?” he demanded, turning her hands over to examine them. “Did you have any nicks on your palms? What did the blood around his body look like?”
Silla blinked up at him. “I—I did not think to look. I know only the feeling of Myrkur’s satisfaction and the sight of blood on my hands.” She shuddered, and he stroked her spine gently.
“Tell me more.”
She continued on, describing the attempted poisoning and the landslide, and with each word, Rey’s arms tightened around her further.
But as Silla detailed the events of the landslide, including her suspicions around her bloodline’s gift and her ability to pull galdur from the halda stones, he blinked in astonishment.
“We must hone this skill,” he said softly, kissing her palm. “I fear you will need it.”
Yes, purred Myrkur. Let us play with it, Eisa.
Silla exhaled in frustration, refocusing on what Rey was saying.
“I did not return merely for a visit. I came to fetch you.”
“Me?”
“It seems,” said Rey, “this job with the mist has always involved you.” And with a sigh, Rey relayed everything that had happened in the forest—the Spiral Staves carved into the trees; the Forest Maiden’s awakening and her call for the Protector.
Silla gasped when Rey revealed that the grimwolf she’d encountered in the Twisted Pinewoods—the one that had slaughtered the Battle Thorns warband—was none other than Kritka, servant of the Forest Maiden, who’d been searching for a Volsik heir.
Myrkur growled low, anger sharpening Silla’s senses. She drew a deep breath, trying to keep her mind on task. “And the Forest Maiden believes that my gift—this strange ability bestowed by Sunnvald—will banish the leech from the woods?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Myrkur shifted, peering upward. We must play with this power of yours, Eisa, He purred. You won’t defeat my progeny without it.
Silla’s spine stiffened, but Rey buried his nose in her neck. His touch caused warmth to bloom inside her, and the dark god to skitter away.
“There’s more,” Rey murmured against her skin. Silla’s fingers scraped along his scalp, and he leaned into her touch. “I need to muster a great number of warriors. I’m told the leech has a considerable army guarding—”
“The tree,” finished Silla, the dark dream she’d had the night before haunting her anew.
Rey’s spine straightened as he stared at her intently. “In the heartwood, yes. The leech is thought to reside inside the tallest hjarta tree. How did you know?”
“A dream,” she said, gaze growing distant.
“I believe it was an accident…that Myrkur did not mean for me to see it…but I have seen it.” The god hissed, flooding her with a wave of anger, but she focused on the feel of Rey, steady and warm.
“A misshapen tree and an army of undead creatures surrounding it.” Silla swallowed. “We will need many men.”
Rey’s grip on her relaxed, and Silla sensed a great weight lifting from his shoulders. Did he think she’d refuse the Forest Maiden’s call? That she’d leave him to deal with such a task alone?
“You must go to Atli,” she said. “Ask for his help in mustering men. He has great sway over Jarl Hakon—”
Her words broke off at Rey’s preternatural stillness.
“What is it?”
“We must discuss the missing letters,” said Rey in a voice of gravel.
Silla exhaled, running a finger along the embroidered neckline of his tunic. She’d gone over this a dozen times in her mind and only one person made sense to her.
“It was Kaeja,” she blurted, right as Rey said, “It was Atli Hakonsson.”
Silla blinked, then stared at him. “No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “It cannot be Atli.”
“You don’t know him like I do.”
“But he’s been such a support in your absence. Besides, I told Atli I was with you, and he assured me his interest was only in friendship—”
Rey’s fingers dug into her hips, and she could practically feel the rage rolling off him. For a moment, his anger felt like more than missing letters. Like there was some history between them that she didn’t understand.
Secrets, whispered Myrkur. He keeps things from you.
Silla shook Him off. Chose her words carefully. “How can you be certain?”
“I have no proof, but…” Rey’s jaw hardened as he drifted into thoughtful silence.
“What about Kaeja?”
He was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “It has to be Atli.”
A memory coalesced in Silla’s mind. “Atli did bring up Eyvind’s letters in conversation—twice, in fact. Each time, the reminder that you hadn’t written was like a knife in my heart—”
Her words broke off at the growl rumbling from Rey’s chest. Silla slid a hand along Rey’s newly trimmed beard, checking for uneven strands. “It does not matter,” she said, stroking his jaw. “You are here now.”
“It matters very much. They made you doubt my feelings for you. They’re trying to drive a wedge between us.
But it is more than that, Silla. They think their rank permits them to treat others as though they’re dispensable.
” Silla lifted his hand from where it rested on her hip and entwined her fingers with his.
“I do not disagree. But we must be cautious, Rey. Right now, we need unity, as well as Atli’s sway to muster warriors. Let us put the missing letters behind us for the greater good—”
Rey’s chuckle was low and dark, but he brought her knuckles to his lips and pressed a reverent kiss there. “I will put it behind me once I’ve had a little talk with Atli.”
A shiver rolled through Silla as she took in the coldness behind his eyes. “He never overtly—”
Rey shook his head. “Of course not. It is not his way. The man is a serpent and a schemer—”
She cut him off with a kiss. “We must retain a good relationship with House Hakon,” she warned. “Please, Rey. If you’re to speak with Atli tonight, let it be about the battle in the heartwood. Let it be about mustering the warriors we need.”
“Very well,” said Rey. His eyes softened, his gaze growing tender. “Tonight is your night.”
For a moment, Silla wanted to abandon all plans of the feast—to drag him to the bed and repeat what they’d done this morning.
But something flickered in Rey’s eyes. “To be clear, Silla, I will get to the bottom of the missing letters.”
Silla sighed heavily. “But first, the feast of the Shortest Day. At the very least there shall be good food to be had.”
Rey grumbled something inaudible into her hair.
“You do not like the fineries of Kopa?”
He drew back and surveyed her through narrowed lids. “I like them just fine. It’s the people I find intolerable. There’s a reason I preferred my time on the road, doing the Uppreisna’s tasks.”
Worry gathered within her. “Please be…kind tonight, Rey.”
He huffed a dry laugh. “I shall try, though you must know the people of Kopa make this a difficult task.”
“I mean it, Reynir,” she said, poking him in the chest. “I’ve worked so hard to make a good impression tonight. And your axe eyes do not exactly inspire goodwill and trust.”
His scowl only deepened, sending a tremor through her body. “Though if you want to bring them into bed afterward,” she whispered, “I’d not be opposed.”
“We could skip the feast and go straight to bed,” he rasped, fingertips digging into her hip.
“Later,” she promised, heat unfurling inside her. “After.” Her hands slid along his jaw, pulling him down to her—
A knock on the door had her jumping to her feet.
“It’s time!” called Runny from the corridor.
Rey let out a long-suffering sigh.
Silla chewed on her lip, taking in Rey’s miserable expression. “If you wish, you can stay behind—”
“I will go,” he asserted.
“Very well.” Slowly, she pulled him up from the bench and led him to the door.