Chapter 10
My heart continues to drum as I walk back to Kyor, the crunch of my footsteps on the snow deafening compared to the abyss of quiet that surrounds us. Even the wind has fallen silent.
‘Nice going, Rosey.’ Ruben grins at me when I reach him, giving me a light punch on the arm. ‘You’re so fierce. I always knew you were, but heck, you’ve got balls. No wonder you won the Retterheld.’
There’s such pride in his eyes that it warms me. ‘Thanks.’
‘I knew she could do it,’ Kyor says simply. ‘I believed in her. I just didn’t want her doing it alone.’
‘Well, I believed in her enough to bet all my life savings on her,’ Ruben begins.
‘Don’t start that again,’ I groan.
‘I don’t get why they aren’t celebrating. Cheering or something,’ Benny mutters, interrupting Ruben and Kyor’s bickering. ‘They just destroyed half a dozen marauding jotnar.’
‘Cheering?’ Brida’s voice cuts through the reverent silence, the word said with absolute disgust. When I spin around, I find myself inches from her face, which is notably absent of blood, unlike my own.
I can feel the spatter of it drying on me, making my skin feel tight, like a grin might shatter it.
Brida’s skin and clothes are pristine. Clearly her role in the defeat was that of a spectator.
‘We may have won,’ she spits, ‘but we do not celebrate another’s death. All life is sacred, even the lives of those who do not value ours to the same extent.’
The heaviness of her words is still sinking in when Magnus strides towards us, wiping his hands on the seat of his trousers as if he has merely finished another chore.
‘You ignored Ranveeg’s instruction not to fight,’ he notes, looking at me.
‘It wasn’t an instruction,’ I say mildly, ‘but an order. I’m not always the best at following orders.’
Benny snorts quietly. ‘No shit.’
I ignore him and continue. ‘There was no need to risk anyone else’s life. Not when I knew Fen and I could handle it.’
Fen made all the difference. It was no wonder the Rettling knights were not allowed their dire wolves in the Retterheld; it would have been an insane advantage, with their speed, strength, and terrifying jaws.
I was magnificent, Fen says smugly.
‘Clearly you could handle it.’ Magnus inhales deeply.
‘You certainly do take after your grandmother,’ he murmurs in a manner that makes it impossible for me to tell if it’s a compliment or not.
‘Tell your wolves they can feast on the bodies. We will take the remains away from the city and burn them in the morning.’
I relay the information to Fen, and his sense of triumph washes over me.
It would be rude for us to refuse their hospitality, he replies happily, salivating at the idea of chomping on jotnar bones.
Yeah, because being rude has really bothered you before, I tease, though he’s already walking away from me, Elska trotting at his side. He will dine on jotnar trachea after all.
‘He thanks you for your hospitality,’ I relay to the king, but Magnus does not respond. His gaze has shifted past me, and it is only when I follow his line of sight that I see who he’s looking at: Loch. He’s stopped rocking back and forth, looking calmer now there is no stomping.
Evidently, Caz and Thessa didn’t wrangle him back up to the room as they’d planned.
‘Your friend tried to give us an early warning,’ Magnus says. ‘He can hear?’ It’s clear from the emphasis that he puts on the word that he means through magical means.
‘Yes,’ I confirm. ‘But since the Retterheld – a competition we have in Wrohelm—’
‘I know what the Retterheld is,’ Magnus interjects.
I stumble slightly. The king knows of the Retterheld? But then, he knew of the Sannings and already told us he met Korvane. Why wouldn’t he know about some of our Morathkian traditions as well? It would be polite to learn of them, and Magnus strikes me as nothing but polite.
I clear my throat. ‘Loch was struggling already in the first trial, but then, in the second, he was … left behind. He didn’t complete it in time. We thought he was dead until … until…’ There is so much there to say. So much I can’t and won’t share.
‘It has been difficult for him,’ I finish vaguely instead.
‘I have healers. We will take him to them,’ Magnus says. ‘If you will entrust him to our care?’
‘Can we stay with him?’ Benny asks Magnus. ‘Visit him?’
‘Certainly,’ Magnus replies at once. ‘I would expect it.’
‘Then I would be extremely grateful for your assistance,’ Benny answers quietly with a bow of his head. ‘Thank you. I am Lord Benaris Birch of the Eastern Isles. My mother’s people, it must be said, actively oppose Korvane’s war with the Issen. I am sorry we have not done – and cannot do – more.’
I’ve never actually seen Benny in his role of earl, other than the brief time we spent in Brandish after the fourth trial.
But the Retterheld was at the forefront of all our minds at that point, so I didn’t really take it in.
The stiffness and formality feel unnatural coming from Benny, and I’m not the only one who feels it.
Ruben’s mouth has tightened, a frown dancing across his forehead at the reminder of the gulf between them.
Like the Sannings and the Retterheld, it’s clear Magnus knows all about the Eastern Isles, as he doesn’t look the slightest bit surprised at Benny’s words.
‘I will arrange for it now,’ Magnus says, inclining his head respectfully. It’s an expression I’ve never seen on Korvane’s features. ‘Your man will be seen by the palace’s healers for now. The ones in the city tend to be busy with our soldiers from the front line.’
‘Of course.’ Benny offers a bow.
Standing slightly apart from the group, Brida is looking at Benny with renewed interest, a speculative look on her face that I do not trust.
If she thinks she can snag him with her feminine wiles, she’s due for a very rude awakening.
And I’m here for it.
Magnus gives some orders, and Toren volunteers to lead Loch to the healers, Ruben and Benny flanking him.
People are moving away from the battlefield, leaving the wolves to their grisly feast, and I feel like we should do the same. Though I don’t consider myself faint-hearted, I’d really rather not listen to the devouring noises as the wolves crunch bones, rip tendons, and masticate flesh.
I can already feel the happiness billowing from Fen, causing me to strengthen my blocks. The last thing I need is a mouthful-by-mouthful visual of whichever internal organ he’s currently chewing through.
Fen and Elska will have no issues finding us at the palace, and this will be a perfect opportunity for them to explore. Their learning the lay of the land will be of more use to us than them lying outside our bedroom door.
While I don’t doubt that the confirmation that I am Magnus’s kin offers me a level of protection I never expected here, I don’t know if the same will be extended to my friends and certainly not to Kyor.
Besides, it never hurts to know where your nearest exits are, just in case.
I open up the bond to quickly relay those thoughts. After you’ve eaten your fill, I say to my wolf, you and Elska take your time coming back. See what you can learn on the way. We might need to make a quick exit, so see if you can find the best route.
You can count on me, Fen promises, even as he falls once again onto a jotunn.
I shudder and happily leave him to his feast.
‘Tonight has no doubt been overwhelming for you.’ Magnus begins walking away and I hasten to keep up. ‘But tomorrow morning, if you still desire it, you will begin your training. Stefan has offered to help you with it.’
‘I… He has?’
Surprise and relief surge through me simultaneously.
Before I can gush my gratitude, Kyor speaks. ‘At the dinner tonight, before I learned about my father’s presence here in Isthyr, Toren said that Rose was the rightful heir.’
Magnus’s eyes shift across to the prince. ‘Yes.’
‘That begs the question of who would have taken the throne had she not turned up? You must have had a successor planned?’ There’s tension in his tone.
Animosity, even. It’s hardly something new.
In fact, it reminds me of the manner in which I saw him interact with half the Rettlings.
What I can’t figure out is why he’s directing it at Magnus straight after the king has told me he’s arranged an instructor for my training.
But the way Magnus inhales slowly tells me I’m missing something. At some point we’ve stopped walking, and from the way Kyor’s feet are planted on the ground, he doesn’t intend to start again until he has answers.
‘Who was it supposed to be?’ Kyor presses, his eyes flashing with temper.
‘Because my guess is whoever you chose had to be important here in Isthyr, which means they were probably at dinner with us. And I’m also guessing they wouldn’t be too pleased at the prospect of having an entire kingdom ripped out from under them.
So I’ll ask you again, Magnus, who was supposed to be your successor? ’
‘The Issen will not go against what is right,’ Magnus evades. ‘Rose is next in line to the throne.’
‘But I don’t actually—’ I start.
‘Who?’ Kyor growls, cutting over my attempt to offer my viewpoint.
But as I turn my attention back to the king, I find myself now wanting the answer too. The friction that simmered through the air at dinner felt deep-rooted, and I’d be na?ve to think my presence hadn’t caused it.
‘Who have you selected?’ I ask Magnus, careful to keep my tense present. ‘If I don’t rule – and I don’t want to – who will take my place?’
A beat of silence fills the air before the king finally speaks.
‘It was to be Stefan,’ he admits.
Kyor’s face contorts into a snarl, and he folds his arms over his chest. ‘Then no, Rose will not train with him.’
‘Stefan is not only one of our best fighters, but he is also one of the best teachers in the entire kingdom.’
‘I don’t care,’ Kyor says, sounding like a spoiled prince. ‘It’s not happening. Pick someone else. Toren.’
‘Toren’s skills are different from Stefan’s. And believe me, with time of the essence, Stefan is Rose’s best choice.’