18. North
North
I hadn’t slept enough for this.
The conversation I needed to have now required my full present attention, and I didn’t know if I could give it.
After Lukas left my room, I’d spent the rest of the early morning hours wrestling with my own thoughts and emotions.
It wasn’t at all how I’d expected him to react, and I didn’t think I could fully process it yet.
Saying nothing of what Lukas implied about Corbyn— that was a box I was determined to keep tightly closed.
The midday sun shone down on the practice yard, thawing the ice from the packed ground and banishing some of the chill from the air.
I stood on the breezeway connecting the west wing to the main spine of the Citadel.
As I leaned against the stone balustrade, the sound of iron striking steel rang from the smithy on the other side of the yard.
The smell of smoke wafted over the thatch and timber roofs, and several voices called out to one another further down toward the barracks. But the yard itself was deserted.
I sensed his presence before I saw him. Reynar had always possessed a sort of magnetism about him. The opposite of his brother’s comforting aura. It prickled at the senses, like a buzzing fly. An irritation one couldn’t ignore.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Freyr Reynar,” I said, keeping my eyes focused on the outer wall. It was rare to have warm days this far into winter—I wanted to revel in the sun as much as I could. Especially after last night.
“An odd location for a meeting, if I may say so, Your Majesty.” He strode toward me, hands clasped behind his back. The smattering of lighter hairs in his dark beard shone like the icicles on the overhang, and the silver bear stitched into the dark blue wool of his doublet sparkled in the sun.
Strength and healing. Those were the foundations of Clan Ylfring—the principles the bear represented.
That was Lenn all over. Reynar was more like the snake waiting in the grass, biding its time until the opportunity arose to strike.
His eyes—crystalline blue and hard as glass—bored into me, drawing my gaze.
I remembered the wolf in the mirror, imbuing her into my posture and my face.
He stopped beside me, the most pleasant smile on his face.
It was a handsome one, I had to give him that.
He and Lenn shared the same father, and the similarities between the two men were apparent.
Wide shoulders, strong chest and arms, and a confidence in their gait.
Reynar’s heavy brow and high, broad cheekbones were particularly pleasing to the eye.
But there was no light in his eyes. Only icy calculation, looking to exploit any weakness.
“I thought you might enjoy the fresh air,” I lied, pushing back from the balustrade. My fingers were starting to go numb against the freezing stone. “This may be the last nice day we get for the rest of the winter. It’s pleasant, don’t you think?”
The corner of his mouth tipped into a smirk. “Come now, Your Majesty,” he chuckled, “you don’t honestly expect me to believe you called me out here to talk about the weather, do you?”
I exhaled sharply. “Of course not.”
“Good. Then let’s dispense with the pleasantries. It’s obvious you felt the need to speak with me in private, whilst also avoiding any curious gazes or listening ears.” He looked around us and then down into the yard. “Criteria met. So… what can I do for you?”
As I said before, the Shadow grumbled, never tickled my fancy. So prickly.
I ignored her, squaring my shoulders. There was still an ache in my chest from the previous night, but I couldn’t allow it to affect me. The last thing I needed was to give Reynar another reason to think me weak. I’d done enough of that during the conclave after the myrkva attack.
Drawing in a deep breath, I willed as much steel into my voice as my broken heart could muster. “In eight days’ time, I’ll be traveling to the North, after the Jól feast. I’ve received word of my mother’s assassin that leads me to believe I may find him in your lands.”
My steel was rewarded by a rare sight: Freyr Reynar actually twitched. But I barely had time to enjoy that I’d caught him unawares. He quickly wiped the surprise from his face.
“How did you gain this information?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“The High Priestess,” I replied. “When we went to the Temple, she’d returned from Fjollum, where she found a golden feather remarkably similar to the one left by the assassin.”
He stared down at me, his coldly handsome face implacable. “Grave tidings, Your Majesty,” he said, dipping his chin. “I cannot think what the assassin would be doing in the North.”
“I believe it may be connected to the increase in myrkva attacks we’ve seen over the last few months. Either way, I aim to investigate the matter.”
He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Are you sure that’s wise, Your Majesty?”
I bristled at his impertinence, speaking before I could stop myself. “Do not question me, Jarl,” I hissed. Mother always said I had a tongue like a viper. It seemed appropriate to use it now.
Was he the one my mother suspected? It seemed likely, given his craftiness and network of spies, some of which resided within the Shifters’ territory. But what did he stand to gain from treason?
With everything going on, I couldn’t wrap my head around it. The fact that she suspected even one of them was enough to set my teeth on edge.
I looked away from him out over the practice yard, and noticed a few people lingering at the edges. It didn’t worry me. They couldn’t hear us up here, and whatever was going on down below would draw attention away from us.
“Apologies, my queen,” he said, bowing slightly. “I did not mean to offend, only to warn you of the danger in leaving the Citadel right now. With the assassin on the loose, your life is at risk.”
Shooting him a sidelong glance, I said, “I am aware. But the fact remains: I will be journeying north to investigate this.”
A dark look passed over his face. “If you insist,” he muttered, pulling at the hems of his sleeves. “Then I will make for Weymar with all haste.”
It was an effort to keep my face neutral. “Why?”
“To make my estate available to you, of course.” There was no sarcasm or condescension in his tone, surprisingly. “I suspect this investigation will take some time, and I will help in whatever way I can. My resources are completely at your disposal, my lady.”
Suspicion arose like bile, sharp and acrid in my mind. “As they should be, Freyr Reynar. I expect your unyielding cooperation in this matter. Are we understood?” The demand left me feeling shaky, though I didn’t know why.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” he replied, bowing his head and placing his right hand on his chest.
A shout from down below drew both our gazes.
I moved to the balustrade and saw that the yard had become crowded while I was distracted.
Throngs of people gathered around the edges of the sparring pit—a tight square of depressed earth that the soldiers and Hersir used to practice their skills.
When I looked down into the pit, my breath stilled.
“There’s something mesmerizing about them,” Reynar admitted, leaning against the stone rail.
Watching the two dragons slowly circling each other, both in half-Shift, I had to admit I agreed. From the looks of their physiques, it didn’t seem like they needed much training. But they were preparing to spar all the same.
Sunlight bathed them in golden light, bouncing off the scales of their wings and refracting up onto the faces of the gathered crowd.
As Corbyn moved, his back facing me, a glittering array of red light dappled the bodice of my gown.
Trygg stood across from him, bare from the waist up, and I swore his eyes followed that light to catch me standing there watching them.
I tore my gaze away at the sudden rush of heat in my cheeks. “Mesmerizing though they may be,” I said quietly, trying to cover the wobble in my voice, “we still don’t know if we can fully trust this prince. Have your informants in Ilfa Esari sent word? About him, or the myrkva ?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Reynar answered, shaking his head. “They pose as servants in different households. For my informants to remain concealed, communications are kept few and far between. Upon my honor, as soon as I hear from them, I will tell you.”
I nodded. “Very well.”
As if drawn by some invisible string, my eyes turned back to the dragons. Corbyn threw the first punch, which Trygg dodged by darting to the side. Their wings flared out with the movement, rippling like liquid jewels.
“I will leave for Weymar in the morning.” Reynar fell silent for a long moment, but then his head tweaked toward me in my periphery. “Will you hold the ceremony while I’m gone?”
“Hmm?” Slowly, I tore my gaze away from the dragons, giving him a questioning glance. “What ceremony?”
His face broke in a wicked grin. “Ah, Her Majesty has forgotten,” he said, a note of ridicule in his voice. “Everything about this new addition has been rushed, so I’m not surprised.” My chest tightened at his words.
“Speak plainly, Freyr Reynar,” I snapped. “I’m in no mood for games.”
He cleared his throat. “The oath-taking ceremony.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. Shit.
Gods above and below, the Shadow groaned. How could I forget?
The oath-taking ceremony usually occurred the day a new Talon arrived. They swore their oaths to uphold the treaty and protect the queen with their very lives. In all the chaos surrounding Trygg’s arrival, I’d completely forgotten about the damned thing.
“Of course,” I said, feigning confidence. “I merely thought seeking the help of the High Priestess was more important. The ceremony will take place… tomorrow.”
His grin widened, and I knew I hadn’t convinced him. “Just so,” he said, pushing away from the balustrade. He bowed again, that self-righteous smile still plastered on his face. “By your leave, I must prepare for my journey.”
Truly, I despise this man, the Shadow hissed.
I gave him a slight nod. He turned swiftly on his heel, going back the way he’d come. Before he reached the entrance back into the Citadel, I found my voice.
“I am not my mother, Freyr Reynar,” I called out, stopping him dead in his tracks.
For all her strength, I’d witnessed her bow to the whims of one of the Jarlum or the other to keep the peace too many times. More often than not, it was the man in front of me walking all over her to further his own agenda. Not anymore—not me.
I continued, “You would do well to remember that.”
His eyes cut through me across the distance, giving me a quick once-over. “How could I forget?” he said, something sinister echoing in his voice. “Good day, Your Majesty.”
Without another word, he slipped through the door, leaving me alone on the breezeway. I watched for a few tense moments to ensure he wouldn’t come back before I turned to the practice yard.
Trygg had Corbyn’s head locked in the crook of his arm, the latter’s wings beating wildly against the prince’s stomach and thighs.
The gashes from Corbyn’s wing spikes wept fine rivers of blood over the thick planes of Trygg’s torso.
My face burned, pain needling through the scar on my chin.
Unlike me, Trygg would likely not suffer any scars from the small incisions.
Little injuries like that didn’t affect Shifters as they did us humans.
My eyes lingered on the scar at his shoulder, and when he twisted around to grapple with Corbyn’s practiced movements, I saw the disfigurement stretched down his back, directly under his right wing.
Whatever made the ugly wound stopped short of severing his wing completely. My curiosity blazed brighter than ever.
I can’t believe we forgot about the ceremony, the Shadow remarked.
We’ve had a lot to think about. I’ll take care of arranging it today. Hopefully no one will condemn us for forgetting.
They won’t condemn us , she stated. They’ll only blame you.
A wry smile twisted my mouth, but it faded quickly.
The aching sadness in my chest didn’t allow mirth to linger for too long.
I would need to speak to Lukas sooner or later.
My stomach lurched at the thought, but it was unavoidable.
The way we’d left things… It wasn’t right.
If this was truly the end of us, I wouldn’t allow it to be so bitter, especially when I hadn’t done what he’d accused me of.
How could I have encouraged Corbyn when I didn’t even know he felt that way?
Really, I didn’t know that was true. Lukas only suspected, and Corbyn had not denied it.
That wasn’t much for evidence. Thinking back on it now, I couldn’t recall any interactions that might be construed as affectionate.
Nothing except… how hurt he’d been at my belief of his involvement in Mother’s death.
My heart sank.
There I’d been thinking he might’ve been in love with my mother. Was it possible he’d been hiding his feelings for me? The only way to find out the truth would be… Well, it would be to ask the dragon outright. Another prospect that had my stomach doing flips.
I watched as Corbyn finally broke free of Trygg’s relentless grip, lifting off the ground for a few moments and twisting through the air.
His kick caught the prince square in the chest, sending the black-winged dragon tumbling back into the low wall of the pit.
They stared at each other and panted for breath.
Energy crackled between them, like predators in the wild battling for dominance.
The darkthread thrummed lightly, a sobering reminder.
Right, I said, stepping away from the balustrade, let’s get to it.
It will be alright, Vor, the Shadow hummed. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but I have faith everything will work out.
Gods, how I wanted to believe her.