Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Jack
We moved slowly through the valley’s mouth, flanked by pine-choked cliffs and thick fog.
Atop the stony mountain pass, late afternoon light filtered through smoky clouds, but in Skadgard, the sun was too weak to melt the ice clinging to the stone faces, especially in the middle of winter and with clouds clogging the sky.
I sat astride Draumskelmir, the brutal cold bleeding through the wool tunic layered beneath my breastplate—a burden to most, a numbing balm to me.
Still, even dulled, pain throbbed mercilessly down my spine with every breath.
The slightest shift in the saddle dragged cloth against the raw gashes across my back.
The reins trembled in my hands from the effort it took not to rip off my armor—or every godsdamned piece of clothing on me.
Wetness dripped down my back, and I didn’t have to look to know my tunic was a bloodied mess.
I tilted my gaze skyward, praying for nightfall just so I could dismount and undress without an audience.
Shaking my head, I puffed out a breath, Sylvi’s words ringing in my ears.
She’d been right. We should have postponed this damn trip, but my pride had shown its teeth. Now, I regretted not listening to her.
Draumskelmir was doing his best to keep a steady pace, but unless he sprouted wings and floated us across the rocks, every stride was going to be its own kind of torture. I patted him gently on his flank. “You’re doing good, Tryggur…”
He let out a soft nicker at my use of his nickname, an old-tongue word for loyal one. He’d scared off every potential rider when he was only a yearling, refusing to let anyone mount him but me. He was fiercely bonded to me now and only allowed certain stablehands or Sylvi to feed him.
And he was also quite fond of Eira, so I knew not having her as a traveling mate had his mood in the pits.
As if reading my thoughts, he let out a snort of annoyance.
That makes two of us, buddy…
I straightened back in the saddle and cursed the gods. I was in so much agony, I gladly would’ve donated my left nut to walk instead of ride, even if that meant trailing behind formation.
But I was the prince, and it was my duty to lead the vanguard—a job I would’ve minded less if Sylvi hadn’t been stripped of her rank.
As captain of the guard and field commander, Sylvi would’ve been riding next to me, directing orders down the line, maintaining formation discipline, and ensuring the rear units stayed synchronized with the front.
She would’ve been the first one to react to threats.
Sylvi’s father had trained her on this terrain.
Her instincts had been honed here, in these mountains.
There was no one else more qualified to ensure the safety of our passage.
Though, if I were being completely honest, my reasons for wanting her at my flank instead of Varik weren’t entirely selfless.
I missed her company. Simple as that.
There was a void where she should’ve been, and it was making this trip even more unbearable.
Varik had relegated her to the second wagon, an act I knew had made her seethe.
Before leaving the city, she’d shot me a stony look as she’d climbed onto the wagon, and I knew she’d been pissed I’d not pushed harder to allow her to ride.
I was High Commander; I could’ve easily overridden Varik’s orders and Sylvi would’ve been riding beside me, even as my attendant, as frowned upon as that would’ve been.
But it had been the flash of disappointment that had ghosted over her face that wrenched my heart. Her anger I could take, but her disappointment? That one gutted me.
Feeling like I’d let her down had clawed at my insides like an angry beast. So, before leaving Isenheim, I caved and was about to order one of the pages to fetch Eira when Ravin interjected, reminding me that my mother had wanted Sylvi to remain as invisible as possible, or the citizens would begin to question my actions—actions I’d already paid for in blood.
As much as it pissed me off to listen to him, he’d been right. I couldn’t risk Sylvi being seen.
Every eye had been upon us, and not just the people lining the streets to see us off, but Varik’s men as well.
They were watching us like hawks, ready to report back to Lord Kaelven.
I could take another fifty—Hel, I’d take a thousand more lashes if I had to—but I would not risk putting a target on Sylvi’s back.
Regardless of my intentions, though, she’d seen it as a fuck up, her eyes had said as much. My little trega had barely even looked at me when I approached the wagon earlier, and when I’d told her I’d see her at the next meal stop, she didn’t bother to offer a reply.
I’d always honored her wishes when it came to not fighting her battles. She’d made it clear she wanted respect earned, not handed down from me like charity. So, when I saw her arguing with Varik, I chose not to interfere instead of embarrassing her by coming to her rescue.
Seemed this time I’d read her wrong. Now, I wondered how I could possibly make this up to her. This, plus the other fuck-up I had yet to fix—not telling her what I’d really been up to when I’d been missing for seven days.
My body stiffened as another shift on the saddle sent a jolt of pain down my spine.
I tried to hold back an audible grunt when a sharp whistle broke through the wind, temporarily silencing my nerve endings.
Ravin pulled his mount beside me, his red curls whipping across his face. “How you holding up, Princeling?”
“Other than my back feeling like rusted nails are being dragged down my spine with every trot, and feeling Sylvi’s anger scorching me through the wagon’s canvas, I can’t shake the feeling that something is lurking deep in the trees, watching us.”
“Dissenters?”
I shook my head. “Magic-born. It’s the same magnetic pull I felt as I traveled through these lands a few days past. I’ve been feeling it since we entered the Passage.”
“Well, Dokkvíor is not far from here. Which is also where reports have claimed they’ve seen sightings of the Helvaktír.”
I hadn’t seen the cursed wraiths myself, but the oppressive heaviness in the air was too palpable. “Whatever awoke in there is sticking to the shadows, but I can feel their eyes on us.”
“Did you alert Varik?”
“I did. He has soldiers on the flanks keeping a careful eye on the mountains.”
“Did you tell Sylvi?”
I gave a short nod toward the rear. “Tried riding by earlier. She wouldn’t even look at me.”
“Still pissed about Eira?”
“That, and being stripped of command and forced to pretend she’s bedbound at the palace while Varik struts around like a peacock wearing her badge. Take your pick.”
He reached into the inside pocket of his travel coat and pulled out an envelope. “Speaking of the palace, I forgot to give this to her earlier.”
An ivory parchment sealed with wax and tied with a blue thread was gripped in his hand. “Who’s it from?” I asked, though I caught the house crest on the wax seal.
“Master Vaelmoor,” Ravin mumbled, not truly looking at me as he answered. He knew how I felt about the male. “He flagged me down at the gates before we left. Said he’d been worried sick about Sylvi and was desperate for word. No one would give him a straight answer—not the palace, not her brother.”
Every muscle fiber in my body coiled tightly.
Worried sick? If the asshole hadn’t let Sylvi walk home alone, she might’ve never tried to go into the Warrens.
“What did you tell him?” I asked, trying to mask my displeasure, though I shifted more than I should’ve on my horse and wasn’t able to hide the pained breath that puffed from my chest.
“The truth.”
I turned sharply.
He grinned. “The queen’s truth,” he amended. “Relax, would you?”
My jaw clenched, and I extended my hand to him. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”
Ravin hesitated for a second. “It’s not polite to open other people’s correspondence…” he crooned.
“You think that low of me?”
“I think that sea merchant makes your eye twitch.”
“You make my eye twitch.”
He smirked before handing it to me. “For the record, I had every intention of not telling you about the letter.”
“So why did you?” I asked, taking the letter and tucking it inside my breastplate.
“A little bird told me you value my loyalty. And…well, despite the fact that Leoric seems to be a perfect match for her, I don’t know that she would be entirely happy living at sea.”
I winced. Perfect match. “Are you suggesting that I don’t give her the letter?”
Ravin turned his gaze to the mountains. “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m sure you’ll do what’s best, Your Highness.” He pulled on his horse’s reins and galloped ahead. “I’ll scout a good area to make camp for the night.”
“Keep vigilant, Ravin. I’m serious. There is something lurking in that mountain.”
My roughish friend simply smiled over his shoulder as his horse sped him away.
Night had fallen by the time the envoy settled into the basin clearing Ravin had found, a narrow crook nestled deep in the mountain’s spine, where the evergreens sagged beneath the weight of old snow and mist clung low across the forest floor like a ghostly veil.
At its center stretched a narrow, ice-locked lake, pale and glassy, its surface fractured with jagged veins that shimmered silver in the moonlight.
The ice groaned, echoing across the basin like the exhale of something ancient and half-asleep beneath the surface.
Horses shifted restlessly beneath their riders, ears flicking at unseen disturbances as their hoofbeats crunched over exposed, frozen roots.
I caught the occasional jangle of bridle chains and the whispering of guards murmuring to their mounts, but I knew why the horses were uneasy—they too could sense something was off about this place.