Chapter 33 #3
“No one truly believes you’re about to fall in love with him,” Ivren said as our boots hit the sand. “The king wouldn’t have let you walk away if so. Bond aside, you’re an heir and eldest daughter to a chief. You will need to wed a jarl—an equal.”
“I know,” I said more angrily than I meant to.
“We’ve all messed around below our class before,” Ivren continued. “I did.” He lowered his voice. “Lika did. And I know you have too. Lika used to brag about how good you were at sneaking away from Viljan. But everyone knows that that ends with the Hird.”
Viljan’s face remained relaxed, but something in his eyes flashed when I pretended to laugh.
“I know,” I said again. “I am done with that.”
A deep voice broke in. “Good to know.”
My gut churned as Darcke came to our side.
“I didn’t—”
“I don’t care,” Darcke drawled. “I’ve never cared. The ships are arriving, and even though I am below your class, I am expected to be on yours as we sail back.”
Ivren winced. “Fuck. I didn’t see him.”
“It’s fine,” I replied.
It was fine. It was more than fine. Better Darcke and I went back to bitter enemies than whatever had happened over the past week.
I pretended that the pain wrestling in my chest as Darcke dragged his eyes over me like I was the one who’d torched his village came from Seindra’s slap—and the knowledge that like Viljan, my father had lied to me my entire life as well.
As I fell into the line where Geord, Rakkel, Ottoh, and their seconds already stood, giving Vero a weak smile while I took the spot beside Ottoh, I tried to shove every treacherous emotion deep inside me.
Darcke could do it. The only thing I felt from him was anger. It was always anger. There had been something warmer the past few days, a spark that I couldn’t get enough of, but that was snuffed out now.
“Maybe it’s a skill only karls and thralls can master,” Darcke whispered, his tongue dragging over his teeth. “Difficult to hide your emotions when you’ve been pampered your whole life.”
I didn’t respond, only turned to glare at him.
“Watch it,” Darcke taunted. “Don’t want to stare too long. You might find something to admire again. And we can’t have that, eldest daughter of the very important chief.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I hissed.
“That was what we were not going to do, remember?”
I wondered what would happen if I killed my own second, because right now that was more of a possibility than me fucking him.
A flicker of something rushed along the bond, but before I could decipher it, the mist went still. It was the only way I could describe it—like it became a wall of white: thick, dense and terrifying.
Screams sounded within the strange, white shadows, and I wasn’t the only one who took a step back at the smell of death that followed. Iron-heavy air surrounded us, choked us, and Ottoh pressed his hand over his mouth when the heavy scent of decay slithered through the air.
“What is that?” Geord asked, his words coming out thick as he covered his nose.
“It’s the trees that died for our ships,” I replied as I pushed back my shoulders. “Show some respect.”
I could feel them—the spirits that the gods had sacrificed so that we could take to the seas. Like me, they didn’t have a choice. They’d been chosen for this without volunteering, because it was their birthright—their honor to uphold in the divine circle of our realm.
Two ships came out, side by side. Both were made of silver oak, their sails shimmering as the mist danced around them. When they left the white air behind, I had to cover my eyes for how they reflected the bright sun, blinding us until they moored beside the king’s ship.
Ivren and Viljan and Geord and his second started walking, almost as if they were in a trance.
“Silver oak, the wood that allows our front lines to hide from our enemies.” The shaman’s voice boomed across Yggdrasil Bay. “Their spirit has given Ivren Solsken and Geord Palsjo the honor of building their ships with this powerful tree.”
Rakkel swallowed loudly, her face somehow becoming even more hollow. Stefen tried to pull her to him, but she shook him off with a violence that made me wince.
“That was her mother’s wood,” Ottoh breathed. “Guess Chief Rafenskol won’t be too happy.”
I chewed my lip. Most chiefs wished their heirs would be blessed by the same trees they had been.
The runes we were gifted by the gods only worked if carved into the wood that had also chosen the heir.
Rakkel’s people would have to build new ships if they wanted them to be fueled by the magic she’d soon have coursing through her veins.
A bloodred ship came next, the scarlet oak beautifully contrasting with all the white.
Ottoh smiled as he and Vero left us behind.
“Scarlet oak, the only wood impenetrable to our enemies’ weapons,” the shaman said. “Its spirit has offered Ottoh Briggen its blessing.”
I tapped my fingers against my thighs when Ottoh helped his sister on first, then climbed onto his ship with a pride that made the former giggle.
Silence stretched on again as the heirs inspected and got to know their ships. Rakkel and I shared a look when several long moments passed.
“What’s happening?” she hissed.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I replied.
“Those fingers say differently,” Darcke rasped. “Could you drum them any faster?”
He turned away when I did, and I ignored the single drop of amusement whispering between us. Then something in my gut tugged, and I was moving even before the two ships left the wall of white mist behind.
One white and one golden sailed in, and I held my breath, pleading in my mind for the oak the color of snow that could sail safely in any weather—the wood my father had cherished our whole life.
“The white oak has chosen Rakkel Rafenskol to lead her safely through storm and ice and wind,” the shaman called out over the bay just as the other female heir left my side, turning right, down to where the beautiful white warship slowed to a stop.
My heart stuttered in my chest, but my feet kept moving, forcing me forward toward the gilded ship that sparkled as bright as the sun above us.
The shaman must have spoken, but I didn’t hear it.
Golden oak. The same golden oak that had leaked seers’ sap and showed me my future.
Or lack thereof.
My hands balled by my sides. I could almost hear their divine laughs as the gods watched me suffer.
“Look at that,” Darcke whispered into my ear as the ship slid to a stop, sending thrills of apprehension over my skin as the sharp bow crested the beach. “A gilded cage with a dark inside.”
I refused to turn around when he lingered, his hot skin tormenting me as it brushed mine.
The brow came down with a low thud, and for a second I thought she might be here to take me directly to Helheim. But then the ship came alive.
My feet, which had been dragging—fighting—became lighter as I crossed the sand, a sense of home and calm and trust filling me until I could block out Darcke’s rage. My reflection was blurry in the polished hull, and the darker swirls in the wood rippled, welcoming me onboard.
“Hello, you,” I whispered when I took the first step onto the smooth brow and my hands found the beautiful railings, folding around them as I ascended to the deck like we’d been doing this for decades.
When she whirred beneath my touch, the unease lightened, and I drew a breath filled with the sharp smell of oil and forest and sea.
My taut muscles softened when the wood began vibrating with a song I’d loved growing up—one of wonder and travel and trade instead of our usual battle songs—and I was about to hum along when a loud crash sounded behind me.
I whirled with my heart galloping into my throat.
First I was confused. The brow was half pulled up, teasingly waving in the wind. Then I saw Darcke digging his hands into the sand, his hair messed up and clothing damp. When his wild dark eyes found mine and a furious scowl overtook his chiseled features, I laughed for the first time in days.
Our bond strained with rage, but as I took a firmer grip on the railing and the ship creaked happily beneath my fingers, I didn’t care. Another low hum of my favorite song started as Darcke got to his feet, angrily stomping forward to get the brow down again so he could climb aboard.
I patted the wood. “I think we’ll be good friends, you and I.”