“Oh, but there is,” said Jonas, surveying the man. “If we control the terrain, we control the battle.”
“What do you propose?” asked another.
“I’m not certain yet,” admitted Jonas. The men protested. “Notyet,” repeated Jonas, irritation stirring. “If you’re eager for battle, then by all means, rush to Kalasgarde and meet the same fate as the Wolf Feeders.” The men quieted at that. “This willnotbe rushed. It will be carefully planned andexecuted. I know how he thinks, how he fights, how he takes his gods damned róa. He does not know I’m working with you. That gives us an edge…the element of surprise.”
Jonas watched the group carefully. “For now, we train. We plan. We wait. Sooner or later, he’ll make a mistake. And when he does, we’ll be ready.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
KALASGARDE
Silla had thought the naps she’d taken on the Bloodaxe Crew’s wagon were the most splendid of her life. But the nap she had in the aftermath of the mother serpent’s attack topped them all. After returning to the shield-home, she’d instantly tumbled into bed. And now, Silla awoke wondering if it had all been a dream.
But the man seated beside the bed quickly told her otherwise.
Silla looked down to where his large hand enveloped her own. She stared at their twined fingers—his warm brown, hers pale as moonlight—zagging against one another like the weavings of a tapestry.
“You’re holding my hand.” His eyes flew to hers, relief melting through his face. “How long did I sleep?” Silla glanced around the shield-home for clues, but with animal hides covering the windows, it was difficult to tell the time of day.
“Through the morning and all day,” Rey replied, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Dusk is upon us.” He studied her as though searching for any sign of illness.
“Have you been sitting here all this time?” she asked cautiously.
“I wanted to be the first thing you saw when you awoke.”
Silla blinked at him, trying to read his weary expression. “The chasm?” she asked.
“Closed by Vig and the others.”
“And the hatchlings?”
Rey closed his eyes, a muscle in his jaw feathering. “Many escaped. Vig’sbeen working tirelessly, sending missives all through the north. They’re already building more traps—” He shook his head. “Right now, it is not our concern. The serpents are in capable hands.”
Silla stared at him, trying to read his expression. Jaw tight, hands gripping the chair’s arms. And the look in his eyes—it was dark and inscrutable. And at that moment, his words under the northern lights came back to her.
I’ve let this go too far.
She’d had the strangest dream—Rey apologizing, begging for a second chance. But now that she was fully awake, she knew it was only that—a dream. With each passing breath, the warmth in Silla’s chest morphed into irritation. He looked just as confused as he had under the northern lights.
Rey scrubbed a hand through his beard, looking utterly unsettled, and Silla braced herself for what he’d say. Words of protest gathered on her tongue.
“Kristjan was…life,” said Rey.
Shock rippled through her, but she held herself quiet.
“He was happiness. Like you, really. He saw the best in people.” Rey stared at the wall behind her, but he wastalking, and she blinked furiously to clear her blurring eyes. “Kristjan was a light in my life. The person who reminded me to live. He dragged me fishing, to the mead hall, made me play countless games of dice with him. He kept me from the dark places my mind can sometimes go.”
Rey dragged a hand along his jaw. “It occurs to me only now that perhaps it was not only for my benefit. Perhaps Kristjan neededmeto keep him from the darkness as well. And in that, I failed spectacularly.”
Silla squeezed his hand, wishing she could say something to take his pain away. But she knew the words didn’t exist.
Rey continued. “I thought our parents’ deaths would not affect him the way they did me, since he was so young, but I was wrong. Skjöld leaves were known about these parts to uplift the mood. I’m certain he took them to lighten his heart, but he…saw them. Our parents. I’m told he had visions, would speak to them. And then, nothing could stop him from taking more.”
Her chest constricted, an ache filling her. “You cannot blame yourself, Rey?—”
“I should have come home,” he interrupted. “I am his brother, his only living kin, save for Harpa. I should have watched after him—should have seen the signs and been able to help him. Instead, I was off with Kraki, fighting, and drinking and trying to make a name for myself.”
“You trusted Harpa to watch over him,” she guessed.
