He snorted at the threat but didn’t rise to it. Deep down, he knew his sister was right. It wasn’t fair to chase Greta. No matter his feelings, he had nothing to offer her.
And the truth was, she deserved better.
CHAPTER 34
Greta
Greta hid in her room for three days, applying tinctures to the wounds on her face and picking at the meals Nanna brought her. She wrote home to Carrig, yearning for news of her beloved island, and missing her family more fiercely than ever. She sent word to them of the Battle of the Blackspires, skimming over the gory details and devastating losses, and focusing instead on what she had learned, on how she could improve the beasts’ concentration in the face of unchartered pitches, like the horn the Spear had used to spook them at a crucial moment in battle.
Greta didn’t want her family to worry about her. She wanted them to be warm and well-fed, and proud of her. So, she kept her fear to herself, even as it gnawed at the edges of her heart. She knew Queen Regna would not go down without a fight.
Greta had to go back to work. To tend to her injured beasts and better prepare them for the next battle, when death would come again to Gevra. War was a terrible, soul-rending cycle, but at least it distracted her from the painful cleaving in her own chest. It helped her forget how the king had held her in his sled,murmuring to her in the darkness, or how the phantom brush of his lips still lingered on her knuckles.
Greta had to forget, because if she didn’t forget, she would break.
And she refused to break.
She could weather the sting of her unrequited feelings, shove away her longing and focus on her tasks. She had faced far worse, and survived. She could face this, too.
On the fourth morning of her self-exile, she rose at dawn. Now that her headaches were subsiding and her energy was returning, it was starting to feel like the walls were closing in on her. She was growing restless, which was a good sign. She washed and changed into her newly mended uniform, and braided her hair away from her face, examining herself in the mirror. The purple bruises along her jaw were fading to yellow and the swelling in her right eye had finally abated.
After a quick breakfast, she practically skipped out to the courtyard, revelling in the rush of cool wind on her face and the familiar rumble of her beasts rising to face the day. There were fewer now than there had been last week. She knew the losses were many, but she resolved not to grieve in front of the animals. For now, she would take on their pain and offer them comfort in return.
She made for the wolves first, relief flooding her at the sight of Tollo and Gale tussling in their pen. She grabbed the bacon strips she had swiped from the dining hall and tossed them to the wolves just as a soldier stomped into her path.
‘What are you doing out here, Iversen?’ said Captain Vine, dispensing with their usual greeting. ‘You’re supposed to be resting.’
‘I was resting.Now, I’m better.’ She tried to arc around Vine, but the soldier caught her arm, tugging her back.
‘You don’t look better.’
‘I don’t care how I look,’ said Greta, with as much politeness as she could summon, but her patience was ragged, and she didn’t care for the disapproval on the captain’s face. ‘I have work to do.’
‘You’re not cleared for that.’
Greta narrowed her eyes. ‘Cleared bywhom?’
‘By the king.’
‘Why does the king have to clear me for work?’
‘Because he isthe king.’ Vine gave a short huff. ‘Just … don’t piss him off.’ She lowered her voice. ‘He’s been insufferable lately.’
‘That’s not my problem.’
‘It’s everyone’s problem.’ Vine turned her around, gently nudging her back the way she had come. ‘Return to your bedchamber and rest.’
Greta stiffened but didn’t fight the captain. She was not about to get into an altercation. But nor did she have any intention of going back to her room.
‘Where is the king right now?’ she demanded.
‘Sparring or breaking something, I expect.’
‘Good,’ said Greta, charging ahead.
She felt like sparring, too. It was one thing to steal her heart, without remorse, but it was another to steal her beasts. Without them, she had nothing. Shewasnothing.
She stormed into the palace, her chest heaving as she made her way through the atrium, down the hall and into the east wing. The door to the sparring room was shut, but she could hear voices within.
