“Safety. A refuge from the Klaernar.”
Kálf’s thick fingers tapped on the scarred surface of the table. “Found yourself in trouble with the King’s Claws, did you? What, did you escape from the pillar?”
“Something like that.” The image of Kommandor Valf’s crushed skull flashed in her mind’s eye, causing nausea to churn in her stomach.
“And you fled from Skarstad to Kalasgarde all on your own?” Kálf’s eyes were filled with mocking amusement.
“I had help,” she said, irritated.
“She trains with Harpa,” Rey interjected.
Kálf seemed surprised by this revelation. “I thought Harpa no longer took on apprentices.”
“Silla is special. Harpa was intrigued.”
A blond warrior put his pale elbow on the table. “What’s your intuition, sweetheart?”
“Ashbringer,” Rey answered sharply. “And I assure you, Rannver, she’s not sweet in the least.”
The men at the long table chuckled at that. All except for Kálf. “We’ll require proof that you are, in fact, one of us.”
At Rey’s encouraging look, Silla swallowed. “It can be a shy thing,” she said, trying for levity. But the warriors before her did not look amused. With a sigh, Silla reached for her source, drawing it into her veins with a soft exhale.
Murmurs arose as her forearms grew cold and undulated with stark white light. “I am learning,” said Silla, her breath frosting the air. “Priming has come naturally, but expression…” She closed her eyes, trying to relax into herself. But they were watching her, and she should have revealed her name already, and how would they rally these warriors to their cause…
When she opened her eyes, she found a weak version of the orb, which quickly shattered into shards of crystalline frost.
“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen Ashbringer skill like that,” said Kálf. “But I can hardly believe you managed to face down any sort of creature withthat.”
Silla drew her galdur back into her heart, shaking the cold from her hands. “As I said, it is a timid thing. It seems my skill will require more time to hone.”
Kálf watched her impassively. “How is it you’ve seen twenty winters, and are only just mastering your galdur? About ten winters too late, I would think.”
“Harpa sent Silla up Jökull as an exercise in training,” said Rey. “She discovered the cave and came across the creature’s offspring. They match the description provided by Bjalla Gray Locks?—”
“You believe the rantings of a madman?” scoffed a woman warrior. Her dark eyes and brown skin tone were a dead match to Kálf’s, but her round cheeks and the short, neat styling of her hair set her apart. Sister, Silla guessed, or niece.
“Yes, Mýr,” replied Rey, coolly. “I do. We ask for half a dozen warriors to help us hunt the hatchlings.”
His request was met with utter silence.
“You still haven’t told us why you’ve dragged your sorry arse back here, Galtung.” Hef glowered. “Nor why my cousin lies cold in the ground.”
“Klaernar,” grumbled Rey after a long pause. “I was forced to reveal myself, and there are etchings posted with my likeness on them. Your cousin”—he glared at Hef—“tried to make some easy coin.”
Hef scowled, but Kálf was not impressed. “Vig said you were lured from the shield-home,” Kálf said. “Which means, again, you speak in half-truths, Galtung. Ketill was afterher, wasn’t he?”
Say it, Silla urged herself.I’m Eisa Volsik. But her insides had frozen like a frightened deer.
“And the corpses discovered in the burial ground a few days past. Wolf Feeders, it seems. They were here forher,too, weren’t they, Galtung?” asked Mýr.
Rey gritted his teeth but did not answer.
“You fool of a man,” growled Kálf. “What have you done, Galtung? Why have you brought such attention to our corner of the kingdom?”
Gods, but they pecked at this man like ravens at a corpse. And he would stand there, enduring it. Protector. He was a protector. And she’d vowed to look after him.
“Enough!” she exclaimed. “You are right. Ketill was after me. The Wolf Feeders as well.”
