Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
“The ships should sail as soon as the warden of the forest allows it.” Guner stood above the bay, where the blackest of water mirrored the thick mist twirling above it.
The cliffs skirting the steep drop were tall, as dark as the water and glistening in the midday sun, and an otherworldly song echoed in the air—one that spoke of times long lost, of battle and glory and bravery and survival.
“We’ve got this,” Ottoh said under his breath when I twisted my hands. “We already passed.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” I shot back.
My words betrayed my nerves—my unease—as Torden and the others still worked on Darcke, Vero, and Geord’s second, who’d all been injured during the trial.
I also couldn’t not worry that there would be no ship for me. If Njord was the only one who’d chosen me out of the gods, then this forest might not even recognize me as an heir.
“Don’t worry.” Ivren came to my side, his lip split but otherwise unharmed. “You got out third, and you fought for your life to save you second. You’ll be rewarded for your honor.”
“Thanks for the help back there,” I replied quietly.
My brother’s friend touched the back of my hand, a small smile setting his features alight. “I’m sorry we didn’t arrive earlier. I’m sorry he got hurt.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said as some of the anger that had clung to me since Ivren took my intended second faded. “It could have gone a lot worse if you and Viljan hadn’t come when you did.”
Ivren’s smile spread, and when I returned it, something within him relaxed enough that Viljan became visible beside his tall frame.
“Those fuckers,” Viljan snarled as he leaned forward. “I can’t believe they’ve become so brave as to come here—onto our sacred lands. It’s bad enough they’re at the Hird, but Morkskog is divine territory.”
Ivren twisted his lips, his mouth opening, then closing again.
“What is it?” I asked.
The raven-haired heir touched his lip, then turned to where the king, Guner, and part of the court stood. My mother and Ivren’s mother were a few feet farther behind, talking quietly as they waited for the warden of the woods to bless us with her gifts.
When Ivren beckoned me away from Ottoh, I cautiously shuffled closer.
“How many attacks have there been since we arrived?” Ivren asked under his breath, his head twisted so none of the king’s men could see it. “Five? Six?”
I shrugged. “Something like that.”
Ivren’s blue eyes turned to steel. “My mother told me that there have been attacks on Gotravik, too, the past weeks. Several of our guards have been injured. And with your—”
I shot him a sharp look.
“Sorry,” Ivren rushed out. “I’m just…” He hardened his jaw. “It’s the king. It’s never enough for him. We have to go farther and farther, make more and more enemies. Now they’re here. Now they’re coming after us every day. How many of us should die before something changes?”
A cough stuck in my throat, and I moved even closer to Ivren and Viljan when Geord turned our way, the curiosity on his face impossible to ignore.
“Ivren,” Viljan warned. “This is not the place.”
“The place for what?” I whispered. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m tired of this,” Ivren hissed at my guard.
“I’m tired of worrying how many of my people will see the day tomorrow.
I’m tired of following a king we haven’t elected—of us being the ones putting our lives at stake.
” His hand flew out. “Adrion is dead. All of us were hurt somehow the past two days. Does that seem fair?”
“I…” I pulled at my jacket.
The king didn’t need to be elected by us because he was chosen by the gods. Only yesterday I would have told Ivren to mind his business, but now? After being in Darcke’s mind? After seeing what the king had done to him? I wasn’t so sure what I believed anymore.
“He’s right.” Rakkel strolled up from where she’d been speaking with her guard.
Stefen’s brows were drawn tight as he followed, and his hands fisted so hard his knuckles blanched.
“There have been attacks on our island as well,” Rakkel continued. “There… I think something needs to be done.” Her arm brushed mine as she leaned in. “It’s not like we can do what the king did to Darcke’s people and kill them all to stop the attacks.”
Viljan was suddenly very interested in the ground. As Rakkel said something else, I slipped past Ivren, coming so close Viljan was about to take a step back.
“No,” I hissed. “You stay right there.”
To my surprise, he did. My cheek nearly brushed his as I leaned in so I could ask him the question I’d had ever since being in Darcke’s mind and seeing the woman I suspected was my mother. “Did you know?”
He was quiet, but the air around us charged.
I shook my head, refusing to let him look away. “How long?”
He winced, and it sent my heart into free fall.
“The whole time? You’ve always known?”
“Since your father asked me to be your guard,” he admitted. “But Vara, I—”
“No.” I raised my hands. “No. You’ve lied to me the whole time.”
“It’s not… I’m sorry.” Viljan reached for me for the first time since I met him when I was twelve, but I recoiled, my head shaking as violently as my hands trembled by my side.
“Let me explain,” Viljan begged as he followed. “Please.”
The others had gone quiet, but I didn’t care.
“What is there to explain?” I asked. “You were supposed to be my closest friend. You were supposed to be…”
“Your guard.” My mother’s hands wrapped around my arm. “What is this dishonorable behavior?”
“She knows,” Viljan said quietly. “He told her.”
Seindra Sweengard’s face twisted with harsh lines. “I knew that man would be bad news. You need to switch your second. I don’t care what the implications are, but he cannot be next in line to rule our people.”
“Seindra, he’s not that bad,” Viljan said. I couldn’t not be grateful for it, even though he only did it because of his guilt. “He’s… I think he cares enough for her to keep her alive. He took two daggers to save her life today.”
“Also, only the shaman can break the bond, and the king already blessed it,” I snarled. “Besides, Darcke didn’t tell me. I figured it out myself.”
Her scoff wrangled through my skin, her fingers tightening until they bruised. “Sure you did.”
Anger licked up my spine, painting my vision crimson.
“I know you think little of me, Mother,” I spat as I ripped my arm away. “But I’ve proved you wrong so far. I’ve survived, and I intend to continue to do so. Perhaps you wish I wouldn’t, but I will be taking my father’s throne, and the day I do, you will bow to me.”
She struck me so hard that any conversation that had continued around us went silent. Even the king and Guner whirled our way, while the shaman shook his head behind them.
My face blazed with heat when the heirs backed up. Ivren and Rakkel turned their gazes down, granting me the privacy they could, while Geord stared with his mouth open—as if he couldn’t get enough of me being disgraced. Ottoh was the only one who moved forward, something tightening around his eyes.
Viljan stood frozen, his face paling with every second that passed.
“Did that feel good?” I hissed. “Bet you’ve wanted to do that my entire life.”
Seindra lifted her hand again. “Ever since your father brought you back with him. I can’t believe—”
“You better get those hands far away from my heir.” Darcke was calm as he strolled up to us, but the undertone of violence sent shivers over my skin. “Now.”
Seindra laughed as she took in his bandaged torso. “Or what?”
Darcke took a step closer, his voice going even softer. “Try me and find out.”
“Seindra, I don’t know what’s happening here, but I think you should leave.” Ivren walked up to stand beside me while Ottoh inched forward as well. “Elvara is your heir, and she will soon ascend your husband’s throne.”
“I know, and I’m here to ensure she doesn’t fuck it up.” She laughed again. “You all are children, and I will leave when it pleases me.”
My spine tingled, and I went rigid as the king came to join us, Guner following.
“What’s the issue here?” the king asked.
Seindra’s lips were still lifted, and as another wave of worry washed over me, Darcke moved closer, his fingers ghosting over the back of my hand.
I waited for her to reveal me to the king, but as her lips thinned, mine curled.
A low chuckle that made Guner glare at me wrestled through my throat. She couldn’t tell him what would surely ensure my disqualification as an heir. Because if she did, that meant her death too.
My chin lifted an inch.
My mother’s eyes narrowed, harsh lines working over her features.
“Well?” the king demanded. “What is happening?”
“Your king asked you a question,” Guner snarled at Seindra. “Has your heir dishonored you?”
“We had a disagreement,” I said when Seindra remained quiet, my pulse thundering through my veins. “But it is all resolved now. Isn’t it, Mother?”
I gave Darcke a quick smile over my shoulder when his chest brushed my back. As she watched us, Seindra’s face changed again. I didn’t like the look she shot me at all.
“It is.” Her features softened so much I almost believed her myself. “But my king, I still have some concerns.”
I was grateful Darcke was standing right behind me, because his hand found my waist to steady me when I swayed.
What was the woman’s plan now? If she outed me, that meant Darcke would take over immediately. We’d already bonded—there was no return from this.
The shaman came up behind Guner. “The ships should arrive any moment.”
The king and his second shared a look.
“Whatever it is, can it wait?” the king said. “The heirs are to be awarded their ships.”
“I’m afraid not.” Seindra nervously twisted her hair. “May we speak in private?”
I took a step forward with Darcke following like my shadow. “I—”
“Whatever needs to be said, do it now and do it here,” the king ordered sharply. “We’re in the summer trials, not here to settle some chiefdom dispute.”
“I assure you this doesn’t affect only Oenskan,” she replied calmly.