A small smile played on Bac’s face. “The fae of Winter’s Realm deserve a respite from the harsh and the cold and death.”
“Do you believe the Scepter connects to the blight too?” I asked the golden-eyed male.
“I do,” Bac replied. “You’ll see many in our forces affected by it, either directly or indirectly.”
My gaze shifted to Thyra. As if expecting this, she shrugged.
“I never said we did not have cripples in our forces. I merely wished to learn more of what you thought.”
“Cunning.”
“A leader needs to be.”
I sighed and, already wishing for a break from the verbal sparring, gestured to the food at the center of the table. “The meat is getting cold. Shall we eat?”
“We should,” Brynhild replied, her tone soft again. I got the sense that as one of Thyra’s advisors, she brought a warm edge. And perhaps Bac brought reason?
I wasn’t sure, but it did make me wonder what my sister would be like if she wasn’t trying to investigate me. Wouldwebe alike? Or was this her true nature? Harald Falk, my father, had been said to be calculating and hard. A Cold King. Was Thyra the same?
The food tasted bland compared to what I’d eaten in great halls of castles, but after days of eating on the road, and then being given only hardened bread, cheese, and water in my cage, I savored the meat, fresh bread, cheese, and wine. The others seemed hungry too, and we allowed ourselves to eat for a few moments, and it was almost easy toignore the glances Thyra sent across the circular table. I’d nearly finished my plate when my sister pushed her plate away.
“What else do you know of the Hallows of Winter’s Realm?”
I set down the piece of cheese I’d been chewing on. Only recently had I learned two others existed, one of which I had in my possession. “Not much.”
“They’re lesser known,” Brynhild offered, at the same time Thyra tossed up her hands.
“Fates! She has no idea about anything!” Thyra hissed. “Why are we tiptoeing around this?”
“You brought it up.” Bac did not look at Thyra as he spoke but glared at his plate. “We said we would not. Not yet anyhow.”
“Yes, well, this entire conversation is not turning out as I expected, and I require answers.” Thyra’s jaw hardened. “You’re ignorant about the Hallows, yet you arrived with one? How is that so?”
My jaw tensed. So she recognized Sassa’s Blade when no other had. Interesting. Still, I was not ready to give her more. Not yet.
“I’ll remind you that you carried me here,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Thesword, Isolde! Sassa’s Blade! You truly don’t know what it does?”
My heart skipped a beat at her using my birth name. My real name, though I had yet to use it publicly. However, hearing it from Thyra’s lips—no matter who frustrated her tone—that was different. She said my name and for the first time, it rang true. It felt like me.
A well of emotion sprang up in me as the second part of her claim hit when Thyra stood from the table.
“I can’t do this. She may be my twin, but she knows nothingand less. I need to consider how to proceed. Make the plans we discussed.” She left the table and strode out the door, banging it open as she left.
I sat there, mouth hanging open at what had happened. No words could describe the mountain of emotions I’d felt during this meeting with my only surviving blood—and some of them shouldn’t be said in polite company.
A feminine sigh came from the other side of the table. “I’m sorry. Thyra is worried.”
“Scared,” Bac said hotly.
“That too,” Brynhild allowed. “She has never been good at handling surprises, and you’re the biggest surprise of her life.”
“We don’t seem much alike, but we share that at least.” I picked up my goblet of wine, noting that it was dented from use, and drank.
Brynhild watched me. “I noticed your reaction when she used your birth name. Would you like us to call you that, or Neve?”
“Neve for now,” I said, surprised they would even ask. “It’s no surprise who I am, but I’m still getting used to Isolde.”
