Her brows drew together as she pondered her sister. Alone, drowning in thatpoisonous castle. Silla’s fear and apprehension suddenly felt so insignificant compared to whatever Saga faced.
Saganeededher.
From beyond the curtain, the fire crackled, the wooden spoon scraped along the cauldron’s bottom—normal, everyday sounds. And yet, inside Silla,everythinghad changed.
She closed her eyes and tried to picture her family. All she could imagine was a young Saga, a phantom girl in a torn nightdress. She couldn’t remember her birth parents. Couldn’t even see them in her mind’s eye.
Silla’s hands curled into fists.
The Urkans had robbed her of her family. Had murdered her parents. They’d held her sister captive and had come for Silla time and time again. Her mind skipped to Metta, locked in a prison cell in Kopa. To Silla’s adoptive mother, Ina, strung up on a pillar. To all the innocent people who were killed for no good reason. Every Íseldurian who was forced to cast a stone.
Someone needed to do something. Someone needed to make this stop. Someone needed to make them pay.
Her thoughts crystalized, cold and sharp.
She wrenched the curtain aside so hard it tore, and Rey whirled in surprise. Standing near the hearthfire, his dark brows rose. She marched toward him, wrenched the wooden spoon from his hand, and stirred the porridge violently.
The warmth of the fire amplified the white-hot rage simmering in her blood.
“Are you well?” asked Rey warily.
“No,” she said.
She took a deep breath. Rested the spoon against the cauldron’s edge. Turned to face Rey.
“I’m not ready to be Eisa,” she said sharply, “but I might never be. So I suppose I’ll simply try.” Silla crossed her arms over her chest and sent him a challenging look. “I’ll go to your meeting, Galtung. I’ll explain everything.”
Rey exhaled slowly, pulling her against him. He smelled of porridge and smoke—he felt like safety. And in that moment, Silla knew she didn’t have to feel ready. She could jump off that cliff, just as she’d done with the skjöld leaves. Once again, she was frightened. And once again, Reynir Galtung was by her side.
Silla blinked back tears as realization settled into place. She wasn’t alone anymore. Rey was there, and he had her back.
“One foot in front of the other,” she whispered into his chest.
Chapter Fifty-Four
SUNNAVÍK
In the wake of her disastrous meeting with Magnus Hansson, Saga returned to her chambers only to discover more bad news. In her absence, a small square of parchment had been slipped under her door. Unfolding it, Saga read eagerly.
Winterwing,
Room is gone. Everything taken. Do not go seeking more danger. Burn after reading.
Yours, Kass
She crumpled the parchment in her fist, throwing it into the fire in a rage. Pacing her room, Saga tried to gather her thoughts. The room of horrors had now been cleared out, which likely meant the scrolls and manuscript in Alfson’s office would have been moved as well. What evidence did she have, linking Alfson and Signe to the missing Galdra? Having burned all the correspondence she’d intercepted with Ana, Saga had nothing but her word.
That night, she was unable to sleep. Her satchel had been discovered in that horrid room. And after her meeting with Magnus, they knew to whom it belonged. By now, Signe would have been informed. Perhaps, she’d link Saga to the Wolf Feeders’ troubles.
Ana. Surely Ana would know what to do. Perhaps she could speak to her Uppreisna group. Perhaps they could move up their plans to smuggle Saga from the castle. But Saga could not sneak to the falconry tower without painting atarget on Ana. By now, Signe surely had her mice watching. Saga would have to be clever. Find another way to reach Ana.
But no matter how she spun it, Saga knew there would be consequences. At the very least, Queen Signe could not have her killed—not without raising Ivar’s suspicions. Besides, murder seemed tooobviousfor the queen.
One foot in front of the other. It is all you can do.
The words came from somewhere deep inside her, the kind of irritating positivity that made her want to gag.Mind-Eisa, is that you?Saga sent out. Gods, she was truly losing her mind. But the memory of the conversation filled her with inexplicable warmth. Saga was a Reader…one of the Mind Galdra. Was it truly so hard to believe it could have been the real Eisa?
Perhaps Mind-Eisa was sleeping, or her mind was not in tune, because Saga was met with silence. She frowned. There truly was nothing to be done but to face the consequences of her actions. With a sigh, she submitted to preparations for the daymeal, stepping into a dress of black Zagadkian silk and letting Árlaug braid her hair.
