…my Little Bear has grown so tall…
A chill ran down Saga’s spine. Signe…she called Bjorn herLittle Bear. Her mental barricades were still not intact, and it seemed Signe’s thoughts were drifting through a gap.
…and soon he shall be wed. I do hope we can restore Saga to health in time. I cannot help but wonder if Ivar chose the wrong sister. Blonde hair is certainly not a measure of one’s strength…
Saga’s hands clasped tightly, her Sense widening, reaching toward Signe…
…and Eisa has certainly proven herself resilient. But we shall see how she fares against the Wolf Feeders. It shall be my first task today—to see to the letter…
Saga inhaled sharply, her barriers shredding through abruptly, inundating her senses with all the thoughts in the room at once. It was loud, a cacophony of noise that made it nearly impossible to snatch the fraying edges and weave barricades back into place.
Somehow, she managed.
Her gaze fell to her hands, Signe’s thoughts pinging through her mind. The Wolf Feeders. A letter.Today.
The Letting began, warriors and worshippers queuing through the room. Saga stayed in her seat, mind gradually clearing. The ember in her chest flared hotter, hope spreading through her. After days of waiting, the opportunity had arrived.
She needed to stop Signe; she needed to intercept that letter.
And as the bloodletting continued, a dazed smile spread across her face.
Chapter Four
Immediately after leaving Ursir’s House, Saga made her way toward the falconry tower. Askaborg consisted of a central keep and four branching wings, a maze of tunnels sprawling beneath. When King Ivar seized control, all loyal Volsik supporters were executed, including the help. Little did he know, knowledge of Askaborg’s tunnels had perished with them. And while the Urkans had found some of the tunnels, the vast majority were known to Saga alone.
But as she groped along the cold stone walls leading through the western wing, Saga couldn’t recall a single tunnel. Stars danced in her vision, her head throbbing viciously in the wake of her Letting. It was slow going through the corridor, but she made steady progress. Thankfully, there was little risk of encountering anyone. Deep in Askaborg’s western wing, this corridor was solely used to deliver correspondence to and from the falconry tower.
Despite her dreamlike state, Saga traced her path to the tower in her mind. Through the corridor. To the dead end. And then she could pass through the old defensive walls without setting foot outdoors.
Torchlight danced along the walls, Saga’s heart pounding with twice its normal vigor as it tried to fuel her body with what little blood it had left. The walls seemed to bend, the floor unsteady beneath her feet. Yet, despite the dizziness, she would not be stopped.
This was her chance.
She paused, bracing herself against the cold stone wall, grasping for a plan.Would Signe send a thrall or one of her bondswomen to the tower? And if Saga could intercept this person, could somehow obtain the letter before they posted it, then…what?
Then she’d read it. Burn it. But no. She’d surely be reported to Signe and quickly punished. Saga bit her lip, trying to think. But her heart was hammering, and she needed to lie down for a moment, or perhaps, a day.
One step in front of the other. She would figure it out when she got there. Minutes bled together, until at last, she rounded a corner and her feet stilled.
Ancient stone pillars bracketed the long, straight corridor. But the formerly solid wall of the dead end was now a mass of crumbling stone. Her heart pounded. The defensive walls had been her plan, but now they were entirely inaccessible.
Her gaze fell on the doors. Set perpendicular to the hall, and located several paces before the crumbling stonework, the double doors led to Askaborg’s inner courtyard. And that, Saga realized with growing panic, was where she needed to go.
A noise sounded from beyond the doors, and Saga rushed toward the rubble, concealing herself behind an arched pillar.
The door groaned open, someone stepping through. A woman’s soft hum filled the air. Saga hazarded a glance around the pillar, taking in the woman’s muted-gray dress and long auburn braids. Slowly Saga lowered her barriers, letting her Sense stretch out.
…that new quill was quite splendid. I shall send a note of appreciation…
As the woman walked, the faint jangle of iron met Saga’s ears, and she knew the woman’s identity at once.
It was Lady Geira and those keys she kept tethered around her neck.
Saga’s heart crashed against her chest. How long had she taken to get here? Long enough, it seemed, for Signe’s letter to be penned and delivered to the falconry tower. Which meant Saga had scant time to intercept it. She counted Geira’s fading footfalls as she retreated down the corridor.
The moment it felt safe, she dashed to the doors. Stared at the iron latch.
The defensive walls were no longer an option. In order to reach the letter, Saga would have to cross the castle’s inner courtyard.
