A sharp stab of pain made me glance down. One of the rocks I clutched had sliced open my palm. Blood trickled onto the wet beach, disappearing quickly.
“That means you’re one of us now,” said a raspy voice.
I looked up and met the bright blue eyes of an old woman, her moon-white hair in several long braids and a life’s worth of smile lines on her weathered cheeks.
She wore similar clothing to the others, but with a white fur cape around her shoulders and beribboned staff in her hand.
She extended her other hand to me. “My grandson, Mazkull, tells me you are Kiera, late of Aquinon. I am Frieda, head of the Yargoth Clan.”
Maz’s grandmother? The one who gave him romantic advice? I didn’t know she was theleaderof the clan.
Dazedly, I laid my bleeding palm on hers and stood up. “I’m happy to meet you,” I fumbled out.
She smiled, and I saw Maz and his sisters in her eyes. Her attention fell to the knife sheathed at my waist. I tensed. Could she tell it was a sunstone knife? The Dags probably wouldn’t like that I carried the weapon of their enemies. But I refused to part with it.
“Come,” she said suddenly, beckoning. “There are stories to share, songs to sing, and food to eat.”
That sounded gods-damned amazing. The last part, anyway. And hopefully, there was a warm, dry bed in the plans as well.
I followed Frieda like a lost bird who’d fallen from its nest.
Everyone piled into the Dag boats or rode ahead on a pack of horses. I spotted Aiden’s dark head among the riders that galloped off.
That bothersome loneliness nipped at me once more.
Until Maz waved me over to his boat. Gratefully, I scurried in and tried to ignore the curious stares of the Dag strangers. Yarina, with her arm still in a sling, gave me a short nod. Sigrid and Davka ignored me, but that was better than outright hostility. Maz must’ve tamed their anger toward me somehow.
I settled onto a middle bench. The Dag boats were long and narrow, with curved ends—larger than that of Skelly’s rowboats. Frieda stood at the front and gave the order to row.
I braced myself for another wave of sickness, but none came. The Dags rowed in perfect unison. The boat glided up the river as though it were made of glass.
Maz tapped my shoulder, then pointed at our surroundings. “This is the Yargoth River, which leads to our camp, but also splits north toward Arduen’s Mountain. The pine trees stay green in every season, but those white aspens burn gold close to Terraum’s Harvest.”
He continued speaking, and I soaked in every word. Not just the knowledge, but that he was talking to me at all. He’d said it would be hard to forgive me, but perhaps this was his way of moving toward that.
A few of the other Dags chipped in with their own facts and stories, eager to show off their home.
Thundering hooves caught my attention, and I glanced over to see Aiden on a black horse riding at breakneck speed. They wove on a path between the trees like they were one spirit. The other Dags raced to catch up with him, whooping and grinning. They shouted challenges to each other and waved to the boats.
But my eyes stayed on Aiden, my breath stuck in my chest. He rode as if his horse would sprout wings at any moment and fly.
“Ah,” Maz said in my ear. “That’s Wicked, Aiden’s horse. I figured those two would be inseparable as soon as they saw each other.”
Our paths bent away from each other, and Aiden disappeared among the trees.
I frowned. “Wicked?”
Maz nodded. “My father bought him just before he died, and the horse became very difficult to tame. Yarina namedhim Wicked because he remained ill-tempered until I brought Aiden home with me. Those two bonded over several weeks and became inseparable. I imagine Wicked was quite distraught about Aiden’s absence over the last few years.”
“He was,” Yarina grumbled. “Cantankerous animal wasn’t good for anything but carrying supplies. Even then, he’d try to take a bite out of you.”
I licked my lips, knowing my next question could set back our tentative alliance. “What happened to your parents?”
Yarina turned away, but Maz’s expression merely grew sad. “Our mother passed from a lung sickness when I was ten. Our father died at the hands of a Rellmiran border patrol.”
“Raiding party is more like it,” Yarina snarled, still not looking at me.
Maz nodded, his face grim. “Shortly after, I gathered some of our warriors to hunt the Rellmirans down, but we were captured and... and thrown into the sunstone mine.”
