SWNOVELS Court of Ice and Ash: Chapter 15
took up the entire doorway of the shanty. Ulf. The wretch who’d started this madness by his interference.
His beard was braided in two strands, beaded with bone and silver. Ulf was a formidable Ettan but looked at us with a pinched scowl when we did not move at his presence. Did he wish me to bow? Stand alert? It was a laughable and entertaining thought all in one.
Ulf cleared his throat for a second time. “The king has summoned you.”
“I’m sure he has,” I said, and poured another horn of the watery ale of Ruskig.
“You will come to him.”
“Will I?”
Halvar and Stieg snickered. Junius gave me a weary look. She did not agree with me keeping my name a secret. Hells, she was almost as bad as Elise. It didn’t help the two of them got on like old friends.
The second Kvinna had, once more, won over my entire guild. Sneaking them sweet cakes, or extra ale, or furs for their beds. Speaking on their behalf in front of the pretend king, Ari. She was infuriating.
In the weeks since being tethered like an animal, unable to touch steel, unable to satisfy the burn of fury, I’d fought to keep a distance.
But like the call to blood, I was drawn to her.
Against all my judgment I would steal glances at Elise Lysander. I’d stand close, imagining her skin against mine. All it would take to make it true was claiming the throne and revealing my true name. My shoulders slumped. No. She could not be tied to me even then.
I knew firsthand what became of queens of the Ettan throne.
Not that Elise would even want to be my queen.
I didn’t want her as queen. I did not want to be the bleeding king. I simply wanted to purge Etta of the Timoran rule. Another problem between us—those I planned to tear to pieces were her blood.
She did not know it yet, but even terrible as her family was, it would be a grave challenge for her to watch them die.
Ulf shifted in the doorway, drawing his knife, and drawing my thoughts away from Elise’s blue eyes. The man stabbed the point of his blade into the small table. Casper scoffed. Tor was ready to leap into a battle. His anger was much like mine, always boiling beneath the surface.
Ulf clicked his tongue, then sat on one of the chairs, and robbed Stieg of his ale horn. “Stay here if you please, Blood Wraith. I prefer it.”
“What is the threat if he refuses today?” Halvar asked. He leaned back in his chair; his ankles crossed over the table. “I enjoy the creativity.”
“No threat,” Ulf said, popping a roasted nut onto his tongue. “But if you don’t go to hear the plan of our king, I fear Elise will be left to carry it out on her own.”
I let out a long groan, but it sounded more like a growl. “Apologies, Halvar. The threat is wholly unoriginal.”
“It is,” Halvar murmured. “You ought to use Tor, or Stieg against him this time. Not me, for we’ve been cramped in here too long and I think by now he would gladly give me over to you.”
“I would.”
“Hells, I would’ve yesterday,” Casper said. “Does your mind and mouth ever stop?”
Halvar laughed and hit Casper in the shoulder, hard enough he nearly toppled out of his chair. They brawled, grinning, and challenging the other. Tor grumbled and Junius abandoned the shanty when they nearly knocked her drinking horn out of her hands.
We were all growing a little restless.
Ulf chuckled bitterly. “You mistake me. King Ari does not send her in your place as a threat. No, this is Elise’s choice. She will have a greater chance at surviving, though, if Legion Grey were to accompany her.”
He’d already won. Then again, Ulf knew he’d won before he ever stepped inside the shanty. Ari knew how to drive the knife deeper inside my back. Knew how to break me down.
He was cunning.
A good quality for a king.
Still, I wished I had my axes. Maybe I’d take an ear from Ulf. An eye? He was haughty and I didn’t like him. In truth, I liked Ari more than Ulf. Hard to believe, but it was true, and I planned to watch this sod carefully.
“Tell your king we’ll be along,” Tor answered for me. He would know the same as the others I would respond if it kept a bit of peace for Elise.
Ulf stood, taking another drink for himself. He exaggerated a gasp and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I will tell him. But he is your king too. You’d do well to remember who has power here.”
Once the door was closed, Tor narrowed his gaze at me. “Yes, I would love to remember who has power here.”
“Speak plainly, Tor. Don’t mince your words.”
“Plainly? All right. They have you by your bleeding balls, Valen. Demanding your attention, your service like some indentured servant. You, the Night Prince. I cannot stand to watch it.”
“You would do the same were Sol being used as bait,” I said under my breath.
Tor’s fingers twitched. He didn’t dispute the claim.
“At last, you admit she is your hjӓrta,” Halvar said. “I will tell you I told you so shortly.”
“She is not,” I insisted and stomped toward the door. “But she will not suffer because of me.”
True enough. I fought mightily hard to convince those around me that I complied because Elise was the one who freed us of the curse. No other reason than the debt was vast and would take a lifetime to repay.
I fought mightily hard to convince myself of the same.
Ari gathered his council around a fire pit in the center of the township. Not a large gathering. His guard, Elise, Mattis, Siv, and my guild once we arrived.
“Good of you to join us, Blood Wraith.” Ari sat at the head. Someone had fashioned a circlet of rowan leaves for the king.
The sight of it tugged at my chest.
My parents rarely wore crowns unless they were on official business, but the ones they wore resembled Ari’s.
I was consumed with vengeance and rarely allowed myself time to think of them. The way they laughed and teased. The way my father taught me to fight. How my mother taught me about herbs and healing.
I blinked my stare from the circlet and settled on the edge of the fire.
“As I was saying,” Ari went on. “There is a caravan of refugees across the fjord. They are exposed and weakened. But their messenger assured us they have something of worth if we will come to their aid. Out in the open as they are, soon Castle Ravenspire will find them, and destroy them. I need men, and the Guild of Shade, to accompany our rescue party on their journey.”
A sick twist tightened in my stomach when Ari gestured at Elise, Mattis, and Siv. They were the rescue party?
“And how do you expect to travel to these refugees undetected, then smuggle them across the fjord, and back into Ruskig,” Halvar said, petulance in his tone.
Ari stood, opened a fur sack, and removed a scroll of parchment. “We use the land.” The king sprawled the parchment—a map of hills and landmarks—across a boulder near the flames. He pointed to a cliffside near the southern shores. “Here is where they are waiting for us.”
It was a half a day’s ride from Sven’s alehouse, but there were sea caves and coves. A treacherous, but cunning place to take cover.
When Halvar joined Ari at the table, a forgotten memory took shape in my mind.
We lifted the hem of the tablecloth. Too many of us crouched beneath the back table. My knees ached, but I bit my cheek to keep from thinking of them.
Across the room, my father rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes.
“Hells, Daj looks tired.”
Sol elbowed me. “Don’t swear, Val. Herja will tell Maj like she always does.”
He stuck out his tongue at my older sister. She glared at him, curled her fingernails she’d sharpened into claws like her ugly, flat-faced cat, and hissed.
Sol leaned away from her.
I snickered behind my hand. He’d never admit that Herja was tougher than him, but . . . she was.
“Shut it,” Halvar whispered. He gnawed on a dried strip of herring. It smelled terrible, but I think he did it to bother us. “I want to hear.”
“We’re going to get in trouble,” said Tor, the smallest among us. He was four turns older than me, but I’d surpassed him in height just this turn, right after I’d reached ten.
Sol slapped Tor on the back, the gold in his eyes bright like bits of sunrise. “Do not forget why we’re here. The reward will be great, my friend. Hal—strategy.”
Halvar shifted. He was the one who’d gained the most muscle this turn. Then again, now that he was fourteen, he’d begun training with the knights. “We use the pillars. Valen is the skinniest—”
“No!” I protested. “Tor is—” I grunted when Tor punched my arm. “Stop it. I outrank you.”
“Don’t be a sod, little brother,” Sol told me.
“Val is the weakest,” Halvar went on, making it worse. “So, he’ll be bait. You pretend to be sly, my littlest prince, but you won’t be. While you’re being caught and reprimanded, we’ll make our way to the honey cakes.”
“But then I won’t get one!” I whined.
Herja rolled her eyes. “By the gods, we’ll save you one.”
“I’m telling Maj you swore,” Sol said as he shifted on his knees. “It’s a solid plan, Hal.”
“Just remember me when it comes time to pick your first knight,” Halvar said, brushing his long curls out of his face. “Ready? And . . .”
The tablecloth lifted. We all let out screeches of surprise. Dagar, Halvar’s father, and the true first knight frowned at us.
“Ah, we have sneaks about the castle.” Dagar reached for Halvar first, gripping his tunic by the collar and pulling him from beneath the table. “Well, out you go.”
None of us tasted a honey cake until the next full moon.
I grinned, watching Halvar huddled over the map, thinking on his feet, strategizing on a whim. He reminded me a great deal of Dagar. A fair man, who was cunning, and strategic in every move he made. Without Dagar, there would be no Ruskig. He’d evacuated most of our folk during the raids. He’d helped build the fury walls. No one here even understood who Halvar was, and what value he brought.
I had half a mind to confess the truth, if only to give Halvar the credit he deserved.
“You will lose time traveling only by night,” Ari argued.
“Yes, but we will conserve lives. Ravens rarely patrol in the deep wood after dark.” Halvar laughed bitterly. “They fear Night Folk and tales of nyks and wolvyn. We shall make them believe those myths wholeheartedly.”
Ari grinned. “So, you agree to go?”
Halvar must’ve realized his slip of the tongue and lifted his eyes to me.
I frowned. There was no part of me that wanted to follow any command given by Ari or his guard, but Elise was dressed in dark clothing. She had a dagger on her waist. She was going and she wouldn’t look at me.
All gods, the woman would be the death of me.
She already had been once.
Never did I anticipate such an infuriating, foolhardy, beautiful creature to take command of my every decision. I tried to keep a fair distance, tried to keep aloof, and I still cracked at the slightest thought of harm befalling her.
She did not have fury, but she might as well have. Elise Lysander cast a spell over me. One I could not break.
“We will go,” I said as I stepped to the edge of the fire. “But you will release our bindings.”
“Absolutely not,” Ari said without looking at me. “I cannot risk you out there with my people and guards when I do not know what you will do.”
“All respect, Ari,” Elise said, still without looking at me. “It would be to your benefit to allow them their fury.”
I opened my arms, smirking, as if to demand he agree with her. Truth be told, with my memories returned of days when my word reigned, it was growing difficult to play the submissive to a king who was not truly chosen by the land.
“Thank you for your insight, Elise,” Ari said. “However, the Blood Wraith and his guild have hardly shown their faces. We don’t know them even after weeks. The bindings remain.” Ari returned his attention to the map. “If that changes your resolve to assist in our rescue, then I suppose we shall excuse you to return to your dwellings.”
Blood raged in my head. What a pompous, arrogant . . .
“Hells,” I hissed under my breath. “We’ll go, but we will be armed, and your guards, everyone, will do as Halvar directs. No one matches his skill in strategy.”
One corner of Ari’s mouth curled into a grin. He’d won and he held no qualms in letting me know it. “Agreed. Rest up, Wraith. You leave at dark.”