Looking up, Rey blinked. Limned by the rising sun, a goddess with iced hair and crystalline eyelashes stood over him, a sword of shimmering frostfire clutched in hand.
Silla’s eyes widened, the sword dissolving into the air, like shining star dust. “Oh gods,” she breathed, covering her mouth. “I’ve cut his head off.”Turning, she retched into the snow, instantly breaking the spell Rey’d found himself under.
Rey pushed the severed head from his chest and crawled to his feet. His skull screamed in protest, but he tried to shake the grogginess away. Bracing himself on his knees, he took in the corpses on either side of him, so engulfed in frost they seemed at one with the snow. Another pair lay toward the copse of woods where Silla had hidden. Irritation prickled through him. The bodies wove a clear picture—she’d left her place of hiding to confront them on her own.
The telltale signs of the Wolf Feeders retreating brought him back to focus. Vig had appeared at his side, Runný naught but a pair of boot prints on his other. “No one leaves here alive,” Rey rasped, retrieving his sword. “No loose ends.”
Vig nodded, and together the trio stormed into the woods bordering the burial grounds, sniffing the archers out and making quick work of them. Vig was a horrific sight, slashing through body after body, while stealth was Runný’s ally as she snuck up on the fleeing archers, slitting their throats before they knew she was there. And Rey, well, anger had honed his blade to the sharpest of points. They’d spilled blood in this, of all places, and for that, he made them pay. By the time the last of the Wolf Feeders fell, the snow glinted red, raven cries filling the burial grounds as they feasted.
Rey trudged over to Silla, tight with anger. He wanted to shake her, wanted to scream at her. Wanted to glory in this new revelation of her power. But most of all, he wanted to gather her up and finish what they’d started moments before the warband had attacked. His skull still rattled, and he could not find the words; and so, he merely watched as her gaze found Vig and Runný.
“A sword!” exclaimed Vig, clapping Silla’s shoulder. “You wove your galdur into asword! How did it happen?”
A tentative smile curved her lips as Silla stared down at her pale forearms. “It happened sofast,” she murmured. “I cannot say precisely how.”
Runný nodded. “It is a common thing, the first time your galdur takes its natural shape. Often it comes in times of duress.”
“You must go to Harpa,” said Vig eagerly. “Reshape this thing while the feel is fresh in your memory.”
As they chattered on about Silla’s galdur, a growing unease spread through Rey. He could not sense the heart of his magic. It was unnatural, like a part of himself missing. Swallowing his nerves, he strode to an archer’s corpse and plucked one of the curious skarpling quills to bring to Harpa. They must identify the substance on the tip. Determine if there was a way to counter it…
“I found the shield-home empty,” Vig was saying, prodding what would soon be an impressive black eye, “and followed your footsteps.”
“Well thank the gods Valiant Vig arrived when he did,” said Silla. “Not to mention Ruthless Runný. The pair of you are merciless.”
They limped their way back to the shield-home in silence. Runný kept invisible, traveling ahead of them to scout for danger. Thankfully, she did not find anything. And as the sun crept higher, their footsteps vanished with the melting snow.
At the shield-home, Silla stoked the fire and boiled water to dress wounds. Rey collapsed onto the bench, Vig beside him. “I’ll talk to Kálf,” said Vig in a low voice. “But he’ll need an explanation for the corpses at the burial grounds.” Vig’s gaze darted to Silla for a heartbeat. “You must tell them. Today has proven extra eyes and blades will be needed to keep the pair of you protected.”
Rey grunted in understanding. The meeting he’d put off for so long was now breathing down his neck. With a long exhale, he considered his options. He did not want to force Silla to do anything she was uncomfortable with. But keeping her identity hidden was getting trickier with each passing day.
From the corner of his eye, he watched her clean a gash in Runný’s arm. She hummed as she worked, and Rey’s irritation began to grow. She’d left the shield-home. Had put herself in harm’s way. They could have overpowered her. Could have injured her…captured her.Killedher.
Yet still, she hummed, approaching to spread salve on Vig’s swelling cheek. After some time, Vig and Runný departed with a quick farewell, leaving Rey and Silla alone in the shield-home. An ember snapped in the hearth as Silla moved about the room. Any moment now, she’d admit her mistake. Would apologize for breaking his orders. But she didn’t. In fact, she ignored Rey entirely.
A thousand angry thoughts crowded his mind, but all that came out was, “When I say stay in the shield-home, I meanstay in the gods damned shield-home.” He glared into the hearthfire. “And when I say stay in the trees, I meanstay in the gods damned trees.”
He heard her turn, felt her sharp gaze on his back. “I believe you meant to thank me, Galtung.”
Rey stood, turning to find her with hands on hips.
“My thanks, Silla,” she continued, “for saving my life.Again. ’Tis not so hard to say.”
Rey’s glower deepened. “Gods above, woman! Have you no sense of self-preservation?”
“More than you, it seems.” She huffed. “I told you I would look afteryou, and I meant it. I won’t watch your throat be cut open simply because you’re too proud to ask for help.”
“Proud—” Rey spluttered, moving toward her. “Pride has nothing to do with it! You cannot risk your life like that. It’sworthsomething!”
Silla stepped closer. She was small, yet so fierce. He wanted to hold her, wanted to shake her, wanted to kiss her and strangle her all at once.
When she spoke, her voice was low and dangerous. “You’d best not suggest your life isnotworth the risk, Galtung. I would do it all over again.”
He stood a head taller than her, but it was clear she was not intimidated in the least. Glaring at him, Silla put a finger in the middle of his chest and pushed.
“Let it sink into your thick skull: your life is worth the risk.”
All other thoughts spilled from his mind as her words echoed in his head. So long, he’d been alone in this cold, hard world, keeping everyone at a distance. But the warmth of her outrage reminded him of what it was to have someone. To feel cared for. His ribs felt too small, his skin too tight.
