“My fighter,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms and standing unsteadily. Half a dozen hands reached out to support him. “You’re all right, you’reall right.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Silla or himself but decided it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting her warm. And with an hour’s hike separating them from the shield-home, he had to do it here. Rey ran to the shelter of the forest, where the snow was shallow and the winds less biting.
“Cloaks!” he bellowed, pulling gently from his source and wrapping a smoky blanket around Silla. Her body bumped against his chest with each frenzied stride.
Vig laid a fur cloak on a bare patch of ground, and Rey laid Silla down upon it, yanking off her boots and reaching for her belt. He had to get her out of her wet clothes.
Vig lingered beside him, setting more cloaks down. “What do you need, Galtung?” he asked.
“Fire,” muttered Rey. “And space.”
Rannver rushed forward, expressing a flame and fixing it to the ground nearby. And then Rey heard Vig’s gruff voice ushering the others away.
Rey pulled off her battle belt and tugged her tunic overhead. Her blue lips opened and closed, and a jumble of slurred words spilled from Silla.
“Shh,” he said. “Don’t speak. Save your energy, my brave girl. I won’t let anything happen to you. I can’t lose—” Rey’s voice cracked, unable to finish. Emotion churned inside him so forcefully he shook.
Shielding her from view, Rey shucked the wet fabric from her and draped the heavy, dry cloaks over her bare skin. With shaking hands, Rey dragged off his lébrynja armor, his tunic, his breeches, sliding beneath the cloaks and pressing his bare skin to hers.
She was colder than ice.
His fear was overwhelming, and he found himself rambling, unfiltered, desperate words tumbling loose. “Come back to me, Silla,” he said. “I cannot do this without you.” She was softness he hadn’t known he needed, light casting away the deepest of his shadows. “Forgive me,” he begged. “Please, Sunshine, come back to me.”
She cried out, and Rey gripped her tighter, pressing his face to her sodden hair. “I’m a fool and a coward. Please, Sunshine, let me fix this.”
Rey clung to her, heating them both with his smoky galdur,praying to all the gods that she would come through this. The moons traveled toward the horizon, the skies lightening by slight degrees. Rey was vaguely aware of Vig leading the Galdra into the cavern; of the ground shaking some time later from the depths of the mountain. But his sole focus was held on Silla. And by some miracle, the trembles faded to shivers, and her ice-cold skin grew tepid.
“Rey,” Silla croaked. Her hair was matted, her skin deathly white, but she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Rey’s chest flooded with pure, raw emotion, and he leaned over her, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Thank the gods,” he said, his voice raw and scraped.
She trembled against him. “S-saved me.”
“You saved yourself. I only melted the ice. Gods, Silla. I thought I’d lost you.”
Silla watched him with dark, shimmering eyes. And through her clattering teeth, she managed a small smile.
Rey felt shaky. Wrung out. As though he himself had faced death and survived. “You scared me senseless,” he whispered. “I can’t…I don’t…” He raked a hand through his hair, staring down at Silla. The smallest hint of color was returning to her cheeks, but her eyes held absolute exhaustion.
But against all odds, she was alive. All the cold seemed to have drained from his body. How could he feel anything but warmth at this moment? The gods had answered his call.
Silla tried to sit up, but Rey put a gentle hand on her collarbone. “Easy now,” he whispered. “The others are just there, and I must let them know you’re all right. Rest. Let me take care of you.”
Thank the gods, the willful, lovely woman listened.
After dressing,Rey called Runný to watch over Silla. The ice spirits fussed around Silla, keeping their distance from the flames as Runný added kindling.
Rey trudged to the cave’s entrance, where Ástrid and Váli’s corpses had been laid out. Sorrow filled his chest as he stared at the broken remains. His eyes met Vig’s.
“It is done.” Vig exhaled. “We collapsed the cavern over the chasm.”
Rey nodded, relieved that at least one part of this mission had gone to plan. “And the eggs?”
Vig rubbed his forehead, weariness etched into his face. “Tallied eighty-seven hatched eggs.” Vig nodded at the frozen lake where the serpent bodies had been laid out. “Twenty-two hatchling corpses.”
Shock jolted through Rey. “Sixty-five hatchlings escaped.” Gods above, it was a nightmare. Sixty-five giant serpent hatchlings running rampant in the northern wilds.
“Why in the gods’ flaming bollocks was the mother serpent in thelake?” Vig demanded, diverting Rey’s attention from the unfolding calamity.
“Bjalla Gray Locks,” muttered Rey. “He said the serpent was…clumsy on land. That it entered the river and swam away.” Their gazes met, understanding hardening into place.
