‘I could never have imagined you working at Grinstad before today,’ said Tor, as they wandered back to the forest path. ‘But seeing you with the king’s beasts, listening to the way you talk to them and watching how they respond to you … well, it makes sense. Your spirit is so alive here, Greta.’
‘They trust me. Not just the animals but the soldiers too.’ She hesitated. ‘And the king.’
Tor inhaled through his teeth.
‘Back on Carrig, I’ve always been known as the youngest Iversen,’ she went on. ‘The injured one. The weak one. Someone to protect and fuss over. It’s been that way since I was a little girl. Sometimes I think Papa still sees me that way.’
Tor frowned but gave no argument. She supposed a part of him saw her that way too.
‘But the truth is, I grew up a long time ago, Tor. At Grinstad, I don’t feel like that frightened little girl screaming for help in the forest. I feel like a wrangler. Like a warrior.’
‘I can see that as plainly as the fallen snow,’ he said, turning to sweep some off her shoulders. His smile changed, then, the hum of his anxiety filling the space between them.
‘It’s your spirit that makes you who you are,’ he said, with quiet conviction. ‘Not Grinstad. And certainly not the king.’
Her face fell. ‘I know that.’
‘Then you must also know that there is no real future for you here. Only battles and bloodshed.’ He paused, his voice gentling.‘And heartbreak.’
She prickled at his words. ‘I don’t need a lecture.’
He gave her one anyway. ‘The king is marrying Princess Elva in two days’ time. Their alliance is crucial to the future of this kingdom. The marriage has been agreed, and itwillstand. It’s out of his hands, Greta.’
She frowned at the sudden tightness in her chest. This was hardly new information – in fact, it was the constant, taunting truth. So why then, did she feel like she had been run through with a sword?
Because you kissed Alarik.
Because Alarik kissed you back.
And a part of you thought that would change everything.
Tor was still talking, pricking a pin in their perfectly pleasant afternoon. ‘Alarik is Gevran to the bone. Clearheaded and cold-blooded, just like his father before him.’ She couldn’t stand the pity in her brother’s face, so she turned her gaze on the wolves. But Tor kept going – because he was her older brother and he had to say it. Because she was his little sister and she had to hear it. ‘Alarik will never choose his heart over his kingdom. No matter who it beats for.’
She tossed him a withering glare. ‘Are you done killing the mood?’
‘I’m not saying this to be cruel.’
‘I know.’ She huffed. ‘That makes it all the worse.’
He curled his arm around her. ‘Wren and I are leaving for Eana the day after the wedding. Think about what I said, Greta. If you want to work with beasts, to find a life beyond the bounds of Carrig, then come back with us. There’s more than enough wrangling work to go around. And honestly, I could use the help.’
His eyes shone with sincerity. His offer was a kindness, yes, but he was telling the truth. There was a place for her in the kingdom of Eana – a new life – if she wanted it. But how could she tell him that Gevra was stamped on her heart? That the wild winds of this country stirred the furthest reaches of her soul? How could she tell him that her love for the king and his kingdom were one and the same? That if she wrenched herself away from it, she didn’t know how much of her would remain intact.
It was a big decision, a life-altering choice, and Greta’s head was still spinning from the day’s events.
‘Don’t answer me yet,’ said Tor. ‘Take a few days.’
When she said nothing, only chewed on her lip, he went on. ‘Guard your heart, nightingale. Don’t let it fall to ruin here.’
They turned back towards the palace, only to freeze at a sudden keening on the wind. Greta’s hand went to her chest, clutching at the shock of pain there. Tor doubled over, his breath coming in sharp bursts.
‘Whatisthat?’ he said, stumbling forward, not towards the palace but the snow-capped mountains beyond. The beast that dwelled there was calling out to them. It had been growing restless these past weeks, as though it sensed the new fissure in the mountains and was desperately trying to reach it.
Thunder rumbled through the clear sky.
‘That’s an avalanche,’ he said, straightening up.
‘The third in as many days,’ said Greta, worriedly. She sensed the creature was trying to punch its way out of the mountains, unsettling the snow and sending new cracks up the rock.
