Chapter 13
Our travels commence the next day without a hitch.
For a while, Odgar walks ahead with King Freyr, whose wavy blond hair shimmers in the sunlight.
There’s another man among them, stockier than any of them, his bald head covered in tattoos.
I vaguely remember the mention of him being Freyr’s advisor or right-hand man. Or both.
I hang back with Briony, who whispers to me, “How are you faring?”
I pull the fur-lined cape tighter around my neck and roll my shoulders. The farther we walk, the colder it gets. “Just fine,” I respond at last.
Boisterous laughter sounds, followed by shouting and the clang of steel against steel.
We all turn as the crowd parts, getting out of the way of two men circling each other.
The sun glints off the larger man’s sword as he holds it up, prepared to strike.
My heart leaps into my throat and I stagger backward with the memory of Eefa’s knife across my face.
A small cry escapes before I press my hand over my mouth, over my face, squeezing my eyes shut.
Phantom pain sears across my skin, and my heart hammers in my ears.
When I feel the rising heat of my own hands against my skin, I clench my fists and hide them behind my back.
Several eyes are on me when I look at the crowd again.
The fighting has subsided, and now I’m the one everyone is staring at.
A hand rests on my back, and an authoritative voice rises behind me. “Are we all going to just stand here, have a little tea party while we’re at it? Or is Sumarvegr upon us?”
The crowd cheers, fists and weapons pumped into the air. I turn to find Valdis’s blue eyes on me with calculating concern.
“You’re burning your cape,” she says calmly.
“I’m—” Looking down, to where my fists now hang at my side, the fur of my cape has, indeed, ignited. “Shit.” I smother the flames with my palms.
“You have got to learn how to control that,” says Valdis.
“You don’t think I know that?” I snap.
She looks down her straight nose at me, then tucks some of the hair that’s come loose from her braids behind her ear.
As we resume walking, conversations pick up around us again as if nothing unusual had occurred.
“Carys,” Valdis begins again, quietly. “I’m no Seer—I don’t know what fills your nightmares. But … you’re safe with us.”
For someone with embers residing in her body, I am unbearably cold.
I cannot stop shivering as we make our way up the snowy mountain path, lined with thick undergrowth and deep green ferns that seem to thrive within the frosty terrain.
Odgar is an unyielding wall beside me, his arm brushing my shoulder as we walk.
“Snow or rain?” his voice rumbles.
I glance up at him. “Pardon?”
His eyes brighten as he smiles. “Do you prefer snow or rain?”
“Oh …” I think about it. “There isn’t much snow in Erleya, but … maybe snow. At least it doesn’t drench me like rain.”
“You have yet to see an Uldaran blizzard; it may change your mind.”
I feel my face crumple, my expression causing Odgar to chuckle.
We walk in silence a while longer before he speaks up again, “Kisses or caresses?”
My eyes dart back up to him, but he’s staring straight ahead, the corner of his lips tilted upward.
It’s so much like Callum’s playful smirk in the stolen moments of privacy.
His touch, his last words—the fatal declaration of his love—the lake of red pooling beneath his body.
Enidwen stirs within me, that jarring combination of icy and blistering swirling around the recesses of my mind.
The sensation floats toward the forefront of my awareness, bright yellow eyes glaring through my own.
“Carys?” Odgar asks.
“Neither,” I breathe out. I look away in fear that my eyes will reflect what I see and feel internally. I inhale deeply, pushing back the enchantress like Briony has taught me. The bizarre hot and cold melts away.
Touch sets me off with ease lately; I’m not sure I could kiss another person—at least while sober—as long as the image of Callum’s lifeless eyes is seared into my memory.
Odgar’s voice sounds tentative when he speaks again. “Embraces or words of comfort?”
Do not show weakness, the enchantress whispers, her voice far away as if carried by wind.
I shiver as crisp mountain air carrying the aroma of fresh pine fills my nose. As I fight away the tears that sting my eyes. “Neither.”
Odgar looks down at me, puzzled. He seems to be taking me in, like he’s trying to figure out what the appropriate response should be. “You need something.”
Heat pulses behind my breastbone. No weakness! Enidwen’s voice booms.
I flinch hard enough that Odgar’s brows quirk up.
“I need a fucking break,” I mumble. To her and to Odgar.
I walk ahead of him, falling into step beside Valdis, who eyes me questioningly.
But the woman, gods bless her, turns back to Seth and continues whatever conversation they’d been having before.
On the third day, a thunderous cheer fills the air.
My lungs are still adjusting to the high altitude, but my breathing is slowly improving.
King Freyr announced our arrival not long ago, just as the sun began its steady trek westward.
By the time red and orange streak angrily across the dark blue sky, there’s revelry all around.
Drinking songs resonate along with laughter and storytelling with incoherently slurred Uldaran.
The boom of drums echoes in my ears, thudding in my chest as the waver of torches casts shadows through the trees and dense shrubbery.
I remain with my little circle—with Valdis, Seth, Odgar, and Briony.
As usual, Briony is quiet, but the others fill us in, describing the festivities.
A scraggly man with furs falling off his shoulders walks by, balancing several overflowing mugs. Valdis reaches back and plucks one from him, lifting it in a silent cheer before taking a sip and passing the mug to Seth. I look at her curiously.
“It’s a mixture of henbane and mead,” she says. “I’d keep away unless you want to wake up in the morning with a cock inside of you. Or a woman’s breasts in your hands. Whichever you prefer.” She winks at me while Seth offers me an apologetic look.
I shrug. “Either.”
Odgar does a doubletake and lets out a short burst of laughter.
My back straightens and a scowl leaps onto my face. “What?”
“Nothing, nothing,” says Odgar. “Just … Likewise.” He bites off a chunk of dry meat, smirking around the mouthful and I lower my defenses, unable to resist smiling back.
Valdis whisks the cup from Seth and holds it up as if making a silent toast to us before taking another sip.
For a moment, I regard her, heaviness crushing my chest. I swallow thickly and clear my throat. “You remind me of a friend,” I say quietly. Over the merriment around us, I’m not sure if she hears me. But she passes the mug back to Seth, her forehead furrowed.
“What was her name?”
Was. Past tense. Is it that obvious? “Ellynne.” Speaking her name feels like reopening a wound.
My throat squeezes even tighter. I let my gaze fall to the log I’m sitting on, suddenly focused on the texture.
My hands run over the rough bark, the distraction I need from the pressure building behind my eyes.
“I remind you of her, hmm? Sounds like she was amazing.”
I lift my head, my lips tugging up shakily. “Definitely like Ellynne,” I say.
Valdis laughs, the boundless warmth of it not unlike Odgar’s.
“Please don’t give Valdis a bigger head than she already has. I’m not sure how she continues to walk upright,” Odgar says.
Valdis slams her fist into Odgar’s arm, but he laughs while she shakes her hand out. Seth seems unbothered, sipping from the mug of the forbidden drink.
“Well,” Valdis says, her husky voice suddenly airy. She rises from the tree trunk beside her husband and dusts off her hands and the back of her cape. “Try to get some rest. We visit the gods tomorrow.”
My stomach lurches at the prospect of visiting the Seer—of perhaps getting some sort of Uldaran-deity insight. We bid them farewell, and then Briony also rises. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” she says cheerily, bending to grab her rucksack.
“No need.” My words fly out perhaps a little too hastily.
Odgar grins. “Afraid of being left alone with me?”
“… No.” I silently curse myself for hesitating. “It’s not that.”
“Good night, Carys. Prince Odgar.” Briony smiles and heads off to somewhere nearby.
I stand as well, shifting away from the logs to spread out my bedroll. I sit atop it, and Odgar joins with his legs folded. “Don’t you have your own bedr—”
Quiet moans resonate around us, and as I glance around, my jaw practically unhinges.
My focus barrels back to Odgar. “Are you kidding me?”
Odgar laughs. “Welcome to Sumarvegr, raven. Where no one has their wits about them. Less logic and more arousal.”
“Magdin’s tits,” I mumble. “You all just … in plain sight?”
Odgar laughs even harder. “Not all of us.”
I shift uncomfortably.
“Alright, what do you want to know about me?” he asks.
Trying to ignore the activity around me, I pull my knees into my chest. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
A year younger than Tiernan. My arms tighten around my legs. Eventually, the sounds shift to the background as my thoughts fixate on my friends in Erleya. On the hope of their safety.
“Why aren’t you already betrothed to someone right here in Uldarvik?” I ask Odgar.
He shrugs. “Not interested.”
I’m certain that incredulity seeps into my face. “No lovers?”
He shakes his head. “Not for a long time. How about you?”
I let out a breath and raise my chin proudly, despite the shame from Iywan’s past insults. “I’ve had a few,” I admit. I wait for his mood to sour, for him to be appalled or disappointed. I resist telling him there had been a few within the same span of time.
“Your guard back in Erleya,” Odgar says gently. It’s not a question, but there is a curiosity in his eyes. To my surprise, there’s no judgment.
I nod, and the flush in my cheeks disappears, replaced with cold guilt. “Just couplings. It never meant anything.” My lungs deflate as the words send a surprising pang through me.
“Yet you weep for him.”
Confused, I touch my fingers to my cheek, and they come away wet. I scrub my hands down my face.
“It’s alright,” Odgar says, resting his hand over mine after I wipe away another tear. I tug my hand back, but he continues speaking as if I hadn’t recoiled from him. “Sometimes it takes a loss for us to realize how much something, or someone, truly means to us.”
“You say that as though you’ve experienced such a thing.” I abhor the strain in my voice.
“Losing my father,” he says. “But I had Valdis to share the grief with. I could be your listening ear.”
I squeeze my legs against my chest again as I rest my chin atop my knees. My burdens are too much to put onto another person. I opened up to Alys, Tiernan, Durvla, and even Callum … Where did that get me? Where did it get them? I deserve to carry my burdens on my own.