Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
The next few days, that became our routine: Darcke would drag me up from his bed, which he’d let me sleep in while he slept on the floor, then barely allow me to eat breakfast—it was only his ship refusing to let us leave before I’d eaten at least some dried fish that ensured I got something in my stomach—before we trained all day, ending it with the hot springs.
The warm water was sorely needed because Darcke didn’t let up on kicking my ass, trying to get me to fight back, and while we’d come to some sort of silent agreement to talk as little as possible, he was getting increasingly frustrated by the day.
The bruises on my body, blooming black and blue across almost every inch of my skin, were proof of that.
I winced as I stared out over Morkskog, the untamed, lethal forest in the north of Nordoen, where a strange wind whistled through the tallest trees I’d ever seen and shadows moved across the forest bed in ways they shouldn’t, flickering stubbornly against the pale sun shining above.
The air was thick with trembling anticipation, but I attributed that to the nervous heirs and their seconds standing along the tree line, waiting for Guner and the shaman to allow us to enter.
Darcke and I had been woken before dawn by Torden banging on the ship’s hull, and as we’d dragged our tired bodies to the Hird, the king and Guner had waited there with a small group of warriors and horses.
I’d been avoiding Viljan and the others all week, and I was grateful Darcke had demanded to ride in the front with his men. Since we had to share a horse, I hadn’t even had to deal with their stares burning into my back.
When I’d gotten onto the horse, Darcke had jumped up behind me, and in his usual bastard way, he’d ripped the reins from my hands and forced me to sit within his arms as he guided the horse through the island, choosing whatever speed pleased him at the moment.
I swore he’d chosen to gallop over the rockiest parts because I’d dared try to find a position where the mare’s spine didn’t dig into my bruised behind.
A flicker went through the bond, and I very maturely stuck out my tongue at my second when he approached the king. He wiggled his fingers back, his face betraying nothing of the glee I sensed within him.
“How are you doing?” Rakkel looked exhausted as she came to my side, her eyes sunken, without a trace of the teasing smile she’d worn like a mark of honor the first weeks of the summer trials.
“Did they send you?” I asked quietly.
Viljan and Ivren stood turned our way, their mouths moving as they talked, but the tension in their shoulders was more obvious than if I’d bonded with one of them.
“Yes.” Rakkel shrugged. “But I also wanted to say hi.”
I sighed through my tense jaw. At least she was honest.
“Hi,” I said.
“Guess I deserved that.” She raked a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not been easy for you the past few days.”
The guilt in her words dripped down my back. Up close like this, Rakkel looked even worse. There was an emptiness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, and the way Stefen kept throwing glares our way, I guessed they were having a fight.
“Has it been easy for you?” I asked.
“No,” she replied. “Not the bonding or anything else.” She swallowed. “Did you hear there was another attack yesterday?”
“No?” I hadn’t heard anything, but that wasn’t too surprising, given that I basically was in the glen with Darcke or passed out from exhaustion. “Who?”
When a twinge of worry raised my shoulders, an answering question instantly resounded within me. Without looking, I waved a dismissive hand Darcke’s way.
I hadn’t seen Ilse or Kilia since that day in the training ring. As their iron-bound, I should be getting to know them—should be bonding even before we formally did so at the academy. But I didn’t have it in me—not yet—and Darcke hadn’t pressed me about it.
My stomach turned, thinking of Kilia. I should especially have been keeping an eye on him, even if it had been days now and he hadn’t raised his suspicions.
Another shudder went through me. He was probably saving his reveal for something bigger—sometime when I wouldn’t be able to escape.
“Ottoh’s sister was attacked while walking back from the lake last night.” Rakkel subtly tilted her head to our right, where Ottoh stood next to a gray stallion, keeping a hand on the horse’s neck while talking to Vero, who was slumped over it.
Even from here, it was clear that she was injured.
Her arm was in a sling tied tight to her body, and the side of her face wasn’t darkened from the sun or with bruises from training, like mine.
The blue and green spots ran from her temple down her neck, and I winced, imagining how much that must hurt.
“Do we know who did it?” I asked.
“Yes. Your guard was the one who found her. Viljan, is that his name?”
“He’s not my guard anymore,” I said, but my response was too fast, and from the look Rakkel shot my way, she didn’t believe me.
“Anyway. He was coming from training with Ivren when he found two men who’d attacked her close to the harbor. He killed one and captured the other. They hail from some nation Ivren’s family invaded years ago—a small southern island.”
“Are they related to the ones that came after me and Ilse?”
“We don’t know.” Rakkel stared off into the woods as a sound from some animal I hoped we could avoid wove between the trees. “The man refuses to talk. Apparently Darcke’s men are doing everything they can, but so far no luck.”
I guessed the attacks were another reason I should be grateful to Darcke’s training. By staying far into the woods, where not even the king or his men were likely to find us, we were also staying safe from the foreigners who were braving our lands.
I turned toward my second when a short woman with golden hair caught my eye.
“What?” I breathed.
“What is it?” Rakkel whirled in the same direction. “Who is that?”
“My mother,” I said slowly.
“That’s nice,” Rakkel said. “My mother just left to go home. She wanted to ensure the bonding went well, but now I’m on my own.”
I wasn’t sure about nice. I didn’t reply as I made my way over to where my mother bowed to the king.
She spoke a few words before turning toward Ivren and Viljan.
The crack that had opened in my chest when I left my home widened as my mother walked up to embrace Ivren, then bowed her head to Viljan, settling with her back toward me.
She wasn’t even looking my way.
Of course she isn’t. Think about what you’ve done so far. You’re an embarrassment to the Sweengard name. No one would be proud to be the mother of someone so dishonorable. Your father must be so ashamed at his table in Valhalla.
I blinked away the tears fighting to spill from my eyes, forcing a smile on my face as I joined the trio.
“Mother,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
Her eyes started at my feet, then moved up my legs and over my chest, and finally met my gaze. “You look starved.” Her fingers tapped my temple. “But your head is somehow intact.”
“What?” I asked, sensing Darcke stiffen somewhere behind me, his searing gaze shooting my way.
“I had to wonder if your mind had gone.” My mother dragged me closer by the arm of the jacket Darcke had forced me to wear because we didn’t know what we’d face in Morkskog.
“Bonding with Darcke A’lian? One of the king’s warriors, and a foreigner at that?
What if you die during the trials or the Hird?
Will he lead our people? Will he sit on your father’s throne? What were you thinking?”
Ivren grimaced. “She tried to make the best she could of a s—”
“Ivren, I’m speaking to my daughter,” my mother interrupted. “Lika would never have done this to us.” Her bottom lip trembled, not with sorrow but rage. “Why did the gods have to take your brother instead of you? Why did you have to be the one that lived?”
“Seindra!” Viljan looked horrified.
“Don’t even get me started with you,” my mother snapped. “You were supposed to lead her right. You were supposed to be reasonable! How could you have allowed this?”
“Mother.” I tried to signal to Darcke not to come over, but obviously he fucking didn’t listen. “If you think for only a second, you’ll understand why I had to do it. It was for you. For our people.”
My mother’s words hurt, but it was a dull pain—softened after years of hearing a different version of the same. I’d always been a disappointment to her. I was too weak, too soft hearted, too slow, not enough Viking, and not enough bride.
“Elvara, it’s like you don’t understand the stakes.
We are relying on you now. We need you to survive for all of us to.
” My mother thankfully lowered her voice, but there was still something harsh and accusatory in it.
“I hope Viljan has informed you that your father’s men think it was someone we know who killed your brother and father.
If their suspicions are true, we have a traitor in our fylki. ”
“He did, but—”
“You’ve only made enemies here. Not a single ally apart from that vicious, strange, witless beast of a warrior,” my mother continued, spit flying from her mouth at the urgency she tried to get the words out.
“You forgot evil,” Darcke drawled. “They do say I killed my own people to gain this position, after all.” He slipped up behind my back, and despite the conversation fighting to pierce my chest, the warmth radiating from him layered across my spine, steadying me.
My chin lifted the smallest of inches, and if I wasn’t misreading him, an ember of pride buzzed across the tether before it was extinguished as Darcke faced off with my mother.
“Did you do something to her?” my mother asked. “Did you force her into this?”
I had to give it to her: she hadn’t backed up an inch, even with Darcke overhearing her tirade. My mother was even shorter than I was, and Darcke towered over her with his six-foot-five stature.