Chapter 22 #2
As I settled with my back against the trunk, I was able to see the crowd but was mostly hidden from them myself. Tilting my head back, I drank so greedily a drop escaped and ran down my neck, seeking its way into my sweaty leathers.
“Easy now,” a voice broke in.
Torden wore a crooked smile as he came to my side, and when I looked down at him, he tapped his horn against mine before leaning against the branch. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I, not until I’d drunk the final sip from my horn.
“He hates me,” I said.
“He hates everyone,” Torden replied.
“But me the most.” I played with the leather strap attached to the horn.
“Well…” Torden grimaced. “You did steal his ship and refuse to fight him, and now you’ve pulled him into the Hird against his will, although he was not truly an initiate.”
Guilt cracked through my chest, and I pressed my palms against the tree until the bark cut into my skin.
There were far too many casualties in my quest. Viljan was now stuck with Ivren, and he would be so for life—or at least until Ivren either died or decided to retire from battle.
And I’d tied the king’s most feared warrior to myself, just to avoid discovery.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” I mumbled.
“I’ll be honest.” Torden tapped the tree. “It might not have been your most clever move.”
Throwing my head back, I sighed. “I know.”
“I won’t ask you why, because I don’t want you to lie.
” Torden offered me a wry smile. “But you two need to figure out this thing between you. This bond puts you both in danger. To be an heir’s second is an honor, but it also makes that person vulnerable.
Their entire life becomes about protecting you.
You may think everyone wants this, but you’ve only been surrounded by the people who wish to attend the Hird.
Most of us don’t want to be tethered like that to someone. ”
I swallowed hard. I hadn’t even considered that. Everyone I’d ever known spoke about the iron-bound as occupying the most prestigious position within our society, and almost everyone in this field would kill for it.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you and the others, but your enemies are his enemies now.
And it’s the same for Kilia and Ilse.” He started tapping the bark in rhythm with the music that flowed on the evening air, coming from musicians on the king’s ship.
“You might want to start making some friends. There are several trials until the gods’ halls, and anything can happen before that. ”
My jaw worked as some initiates by the dock undressed to get into the water, then screamed as they ran and jumped off. Others gathered around the fires, the sound of their hushed conversations so familiar my heart clenched.
“You’re right,” I said.
“I don’t like to brag, but I usually am.” Torden grinned when my mouth twitched. “Almost got you to laugh.”
I jumped off the branch, feeling a little bit better. “What should I do about Darcke?”
“He’ll come around. I think.”
“That didn’t sound too comforting.” I nudged the warrior’s arm.
“He’s tricky,” Torden responded. “But he doesn’t hate you anymore. Not really.”
I raised a brow. “From that first day, he made it very clear he doesn’t want to be anywhere near me.”
Torden placed a hand on my back as we started walking into the glen again. “You see Borje over there?”
I nodded. The one-eyed Viking stood mostly by himself, although some of the initiates circled him like wolves wanting to sniff a new friend. When he looked up, they scattered like birds instead, their shoulders hunching under whatever he’d hissed at them.
“His scars are evident—a warning,” Torden said.
“Not all of us carry our scars on the outside like that, so we do other things to protect ourselves. I joke.” There was a sadness in his smile I hadn’t noticed before.
“Borje emphasizes his scarred face. Darcke… he is angry—and he uses that anger to keep people away.”
That choked feeling wrangled itself from my chest up my throat again, so I only hummed.
Torden halted by a group of initiates sitting at the fire I’d turned pink.
“You aren’t so different from him, I think,” Torden said softly. “You push people away too.”
But I don’t want to.
A horn signaled over the water, and Torden adjusted the axe on his back.
“Duty calls.” He patted my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”
Even though I wasn’t so sure of that, I nodded. “Thank you,” I said as the warrior walked off.
He didn’t turn around, but he waved at me over his shoulder, then used the same hand to gesture to the initiates sitting around the fire.
Bile teased the back of my throat, but I forced myself to walk into the circle. Whatever conversations had been happening died immediately. I pretended not to notice as I bent and sat down beside a girl with beautifully wavy raven hair.
“I’m Elvara,” I said, as I tapped my horn against hers like Torden had done with me.
It was quiet for a beat before she laughed and responded, “I know.”
“I guess you do.” I tried for a smile. “Where are you from?”
“Aaland. I’m Geord’s cousin.”
As someone started talking beside her, my shoulders lowered an inch. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s nice.”
“Not as nice as Oenskan, I’m sure,” she replied.
Another girl leaned in. “Is it true every house has their own dock? That your father gifts every married couple a ship?”
My father never allowed us to speak of Oenskan in this way, because not every chief treated their people like he did.
Jealousy drives people to terrible things, he’d always warn.
But Torden was right. I’d forced three people to join my inner circle, and it wasn’t fair to subject them to the loneliness and danger that came with being the outcast of the Hird.
“He does, but we share the docks,” I said.
Two of the men joined our conversation.
“Is it true that the current that goes by Oenskan can take you to the western seas in days instead of months?”
“Does your cattle grow larger than anywhere else because of the magic of your rivers?”
“Are the wolves prowling your island trained to keep enemies out?”
“Can you really ask the water where it’s safe to sail when you prepare for travels?”
I answered as truthfully as possible, laughing when the questions were more imaginative, but as more people pressed in and the questions began to border on roads and rivers leading to our village, I tried to switch the subject.
“So, what do you plan to do tonight?” I asked.
It was still early, the moon hovering halfway over the mountain behind the lake.
“Of course she won’t tell us anything that could actually lead us to Oenskan,” one of the guys snapped. “The Sweengards always think they’re better than everyone else.”
“That’s not true. I just…” I pushed my hands into the grass.
“Will you stop,” Geord’s cousin snapped when another guy rolled his eyes. “She’s answered about twenty of your questions by now. You can give her some time to breathe.”
She waved for one of the servants—the girl from earlier. When she came over, she looked everywhere but at me, and I kept my gaze down as Geord’s cousin dispersed the drinks. As she pressed one into my hands, I smiled at her, and an ember of warmth fought itself into my gut when she grinned back.
“As for what we’ll do tonight.” She took out a leather pouch and waved it in the air. “I got us some fly agaric.”
I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose. Many Vikings would ingest the mushroom before battle because it was rumored to make us stronger and more focused and to increase bloodlust, but my father didn’t like it.
He wanted us to have clear heads so that we would make sound decisions—especially when we were in enemy territory.
“Too good for this too?” the guy who’d rolled his eyes taunted. “The eldest daughter Sweengard can’t possibly eat some blood-fury. What if she lost some of her precious control?”
My fingers curled into the grass, but I didn’t respond. The crowd had thinned out, and while Ottoh stood with his iron-bound only a little ways away, Ivren was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Rakkel. Geord, on the other hand, was making his way over.
“You scared, Sweengard?” the new heir asked as he plopped himself down beside his cousin. “It probably won’t even affect you as much, with all that strength you refuse to show anyone.”
“It’s not that strong,” the girl assured me. “It’s not for battle but for fun.”
“I’m all right,” I said, waving my horn. “I’ll keep to this.”
“Oh, come on,” Geord taunted. “You just decided to bond with the most lethal—and grumpy—warrior there is. You should have some fun tonight because when you bond tomorrow, you’ll be feeling all those emotions.”
My brows snapped together before I could stop them, and I placed my horn on the ground.
“Wait.” Geord’s smile was instant, a look that made my skin prickle. “You realize that it’s not just your weapons that will be attuned after you bond.”
“I know how a second works,” I replied, though a cold weight in my stomach twisted. “We’ll share the rhythm of battle through our magic and skills.”
“And through feeling each other’s emotions.” Geord laughed. “It’s how you learn everything about each other so that nothing can surprise you.”
The need to vomit washed over me, but I forced out a chuckle. “Sure,” I said. “I knew that.”
I hadn’t known that, and I doubted Viljan did either. My father’s second was no longer alive, and he didn’t like to talk about him. He’d been my father’s greatest loss, and we children rarely brought it up because none of us liked the expression that came over him.
The rest of the initiates would bond in a different way during the academy—find their own kind of iron-bound. It was only the heirs and their seconds who would be bound together by the king’s shaman—share that divine tether.
“You’re looking a little pale.” Geord took the bag from his cousin, dipped his fingers into it, and then licked off the brown powder stuck to them. “You sure you don’t want any?”