Silla looked up, gasping as her gaze settled on the barn owl perched on a branch above.
“Kristjan rescued an owl once,” Rey heard himself saying. Desperately, he searched for the cold, unfeeling place inside himself. “He made Harpa set its wing. Trapped mice in the fields to feed it. Nursed the owl back to health. The day he set the owl free might have been the happiest I’d ever seen him.” His chest felt split open, pain and sorrow pulsing forth.
“After burying him, I came here to get mindlessly drunk. But then I looked up and saw the owl, and it felt as thoughhewas there with me. I’m sure it sounds quite mad.”
As he stared at the owl, Rey felt it all—the bright, sharp guilt of failing his brother, the sorrow of burying the last of his kin, the blackness which had dogged his steps for a full year afterward. Throwing himself into his Uppreisna work had been the only way Rey could claw his way out of it. He’d taken every assignment, no matter how dangerous. Had built his walls, high and impenetrable, to keep this from happening again.
How could he have forgotten? Rey had barely survived it.
“Would you believe an owl guided me through the Twisted Pinewoods?” Silla’s voice was fast and excited, but Rey felt as though he was underwater, mere fragments of her words meeting his ears: “The Owl’s Hollow Inn,” and “Sign from the gods,” and “brought us together.”
Her words barely penetrated him. Rey stared up at the owl, overwhelmed by his remembered pain. It was worse than any battle wound he’d suffered. Worse than anything he could imagine. And in that moment, Rey understood the owl’s presence.
“A reminder,” he muttered. Bending over his knees, he raked his fingers through his hair. “I cannot survive this twice.”
“What is it, Rey?” asked Silla, that gods damned concern in her voice. “You can tell me.”
Rey pushed to his feet and began pacing. Why was this so hard? She’d just stood in front of a mead hall and shared her uncomfortable truth. Why could he not do the same?
Cannot!his insides screamed.Cannot survive it.
“If you only shared a little,” she tried again. “I know this is about Kristjan. Talk to me, Rey. Tell me about him. It could help. I know losing him shook you to your core?—”
“I cannot give you what you want.”
Her eyes were wide, black pools, and Rey forced his gaze away.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know!”
His words were loud and sharp, and as she recoiled, he despised himself.He felt her watching him. Felt her dismantling the meaning in his words. Felt the moment she realized they were no longer speaking of Kristjan, but something altogether different. Rey turned and met her eyes. Registered the fire.
“You said there was nothing uncertain in how you want me,” she challenged, pushing to her feet.
“Wanting you is not enough.”
Silla stared at him hard. “And what doesthatmean?”
Rey’s self-loathing reached new heights. How could he tell her he wanted her so badly, the thought of losing her terrified him? How did he explain that the people he loved were never long for this world? That he could not survive this twice? Rey had never been one for words. And in this moment, he felt like a cornered animal, desperate and lashing out.
“I’ve let this go too far. I should have put a stop to it sooner.”
He braced himself for tears. Readied himself for her to crumble to pieces. But Silla only folded her arms over her chest.
“No,” she said, gaze unflinching. “I see what you’re doing, and I do not accept it. You are trying to frighten me away, Reynir Galtung, and I’m sorry to say, I won’t let you.” And with that, she turned on her heel. Retreated down the foothill.
Rey stared after her, dumbstruck.
She’d seen through his ugly words, straight to his very core. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. Gods, but he should have known, with her, there was nowhere for him to hide.
And the anger he’d seen on her face was a revelation, sparking warmth in his numb chest and bringing him back to life. This, he realized, was what it felt like to be cared for. She saw all parts of him and didn’t look away. Was soft when he needed tenderness, and fierce when he could not be.
Out of all the warriors in this kingdom, somehow, she’d chosen him. Silla would challenge him at every turn. Would drive him utterly mad. But now, Rey understood: she would fight for him. Fightforthem.
His body began to tremble as the realization struck him—he could have lost the best thing to ever happen to him because of this untended wound. Gods, he was a fool. A fool with work to do.
But first, the serpents.
