“Please, Rykr.” The bond between us was silent, distant.
I held his nose and breathed into his mouth, my cheeks puffing slightly. Once, twice … five times.
“Come on, Rykr. Please. Please come back.” I slammed my hand against his chest.
That I wasn’t dead yet was my only reason for hope.
Tears stung my eyes, and I lowered my mouth to his once more.
“Please.”
Then he coughed, choking and spitting up water, his lungs expelling what he’d taken in under the surface. He drew a rough breath, and a cry left my lips as I dropped back, giving him space as his eyes opened.
“I’d ask if I died and went to Evermere, but you’re here,” he rasped.
Swiver. Despite everything, I laughed, relief filling my every pore. I bent toward him again and kissed his mouth, gently. “The cruel Rúna have sent you back. Even the weavers of fates don’t want you.”
His lips tipped in a smile. “Every time I’m staring death in the face, you decide to snatch me from it.” Rykr raised a hand, stroking my cheek softly with the backs of his knuckles.
I shivered, and not just because I was freezing after the plunge into the water and the frosty night air we’d come out to.
But because Rykr’s touch set my skin on fire, even when it was innocent. A lump rose in my throat as I remembered how his hands had brought me more bliss and satisfaction than I’d ever felt in my life. I sat up straighter, looking around me.
“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve dragged us out to the Havamal.” Cold, slick fear went through me as the stands of the arena swam into my view. Spectators watched, waiting to see us battle for our lives against the Skorn.
The crowd wasn’t just watching. They were feeding off this. Their laughter filtered down from the stands, together with drunken shouts, the clinking of goblets as if they were watching a troupe of dancers in a festival square, not people fighting to the death.
A celebration of suffering.
The Havamal, built on the side of the mountain at the base of Emberstone, held thousands of spectators. An enormous parapet protruded from the side of the arena carved into the mountain. Haldron and the other leaders of the Viori were seated there.
That would be where Rykr and I would have to find a way to strike, if we were going to be successful. Even if we’d ruined our attempt to rescue Esme, if we could still kill Haldron, we might be able to free her. Seth didn’t know it, but he’d given me more motivation than ever to strike—if I was going to die from poison anyway tonight, I had nothing to lose.
“How many other people made it out of the water?” Rykr asked, looking toward the dark, murky surface that now looked like a placid lake in the center of the Havamal. The ground we stood on was muddy—no doubt it had been flooded before this.
“I’ve seen three,” Ciaran said, panting. Water dripped from his face. “I’m not sure if any others will make it out at this point.”
“Where are they?” Rykr stood, alert and wary. “They’re as much of a threat to us as anything that’s coming next.”
“I’ll guard your backs for now. I think I’m the only one that kept a sword after swimming,” Tara said, her damp hair clinging to the sides of her neck. As much as I wanted my sister to be safe, having her here had proven to be a comfort, too. Her competence reassured me.
I scanned the arena of the Havamal, familiarizing myself with it. Besides the lake, the basin of the arena was barren, the only significant features consisting of enormous boulders that the amphitheater had either been built around or had fallen from the cliffs and mountains around us.
The pale light of the full Harvest Moon shone down on us. My shivering had gotten worse, my strength thoroughly sapped. I gripped Rykr’s forearm, hating how weak I felt. Any training he’d given me might be in vain after all.
Torches flared to life in the stands of the Havamal. The amphitheater erupted into cheers, the spectators reveling in our success—so far. All my life, I’d heard of the Skorn but never attended it … and yet it had never occurred to me how cruel—how vicious it was.
Even though he was some distance away, I felt Haldron’s eyes on me, knew he looked directly at me. Any reverence or respect I’d had for him had vanished, replaced by loathing. Every single ounce of pain and suffering that my family had endured over the last six weeks was owed to him.
To his hatred for Lirien.
His malice.
Maybe once I would have wanted to see our enemies defeated at any cost, but he’d involved my family in such a way that my eyes had been opened to the truth—we were the villains just as much as they were.
Peace would be the only thing that would heal our people, but that wasn’t what Haldron wanted. He wanted war and power.
I didn’t have much time left, but if my life counted for anything, then I would do whatever it took to stop him from leading my people to death and destruction in a war with Lirien.
