Silla dove out of the way just in time. The mother’s fangs sank deep into the ground, thunder echoing off the mountains surrounding them. By some miracle, Rey clung to the serpent’s head, and he hooked his leg back over. Silla felt his galdur thicken in the air, saw smoke peeling up from his hands—a torrent unlike any she’d seen before. The smoke was midnight black, blotting out the skies,embers crackling like wildfire within. Silla shielded her face from the heat, snow melting beneath her.
The serpent yanked her fangs loose from the ground, rearing up. But Silla rushed in the mother’s path, desperate to keep her distracted.
It was enough. Rey shoved the full force of his power at the mother, a maelstrom of smoke and embers battering relentlessly down on her. Smoke burrowed into the mother’s eye sockets and nostrils, pouring into her body and filling the air with the scent of charred flesh. The mother screamed, writhing about, but Axe Eyes held on, pouring every ounce of his galdur into this monstrous foe. She slowed, swayed, and Rey was suddenly sliding down the serpent’s back, rolling onto the snow-covered ground. The mother crashed down, sending a plume of snow into the air.
She did not rise.
Silla rushed to Rey’s side, slashing into a hatchling lunging at him from behind. Two more appeared in its place, and together Silla and Rey cut them down. But where one fell, another appeared. Another. Another. Exhaustion was creeping in, Silla’s muscles protesting. There seemed to be an endless supply of hatchlings, their numbers never dwindling.
A curious whistling sound had her looking up in time to catch a flaming arrow sailing through the air. It collided with a precarious-looking shelf of ice, sending it tumbling down with a sharp crack. Snow powdered the air, making it difficult to see, but the low rumble shaking the earth told Silla enough.
“Avalanche!” shouted Rey, grabbing Silla’s arm and yanking her away. And again, Silla was running for her life, this time from an altogether different foe. The rumbling grew more thunderous with each passing heartbeat, snow shaking loose from trees. On they ran, until their muscles screamed and their lungs burned, the sound reaching an ear-splitting crescendo. Breathless, they turned.
Erik emerged from a cloud of powder, then Mýr and Hef, dragging Kálf between them. Runný flickered into view a heartbeat later.
“Thank the gods,” wailed Silla.
Together, the group watched the avalanche plow down the mountain, straight into the mass of clumsy hatchlings. Snow burst into the air, powdering their faces and obscuring their vision. As the snow settled, nothing remained of the battle but an enormous bank of snow.
The serpents were buried.
“The gods have spared us!” exclaimed Mýr, tugging Runný into a tight hug.
Tears sprung to Silla’s eyes. It truly felt like a miracle. The mother and the hatchlings were gone. Their group had survived. A hand ran up her spine,settling on the back of her neck. And then, Silla was pulled against Rey’s chest, his lips pressed to hers.
Silla kissed him back, waiting for relief to come. But despite the reassuring pressure of Rey’s lips, a niggling feeling grew in the back of her mind. Where had that arrow come from? And why had the serpents beenhere,of all places? What had the mass of hatchlings been swarming over? Crimson blood had dripped from the first hatchling’s lips, which meant they’d been feasting on something…
“Well, isn’t this sweet.”
Silla jerked back with a sharp gasp. That voice. It was…no. Slowly, she turned to face the man who’d once been her safe refuge, her comfort. A person she’d foolishly trusted.
“Hello, Curls.”
Chapter Eighty
SUNNAVÍK
“Where is Magnus?” demanded King Ivar, draining his goblet and slamming it down.
It was the day after her meeting with Signe, and Saga now found herself seated beside the king for this travesty of an engagement feast. The feasting tables were filled with Sunnavík’s nobles chatting amongst themselves and sampling the Zagadkian wine the queen had served. As Saga caught herself searching for a pair of emerald eyes, she scowled.
She had known,knownif she and Rurik were discovered kissing in the courtyard, it would be Saga who paid the price. And yet, she’d thought better of him. How, after everything they’d shared in the gardens, could he have just left her?
Saga sighed. Self-pity was not a luxury she could afford. She needed to keep her wits sharp and find an ally.
But this room was hardly filled with the type of people Saga could ally herself with. Aside from the Volsik betrayers and Urkans, many were friends of Magnus Heart Eater. Bile climbed up her throat as Saga realized those same soldiers who’d cornered her in the stables were likely in this room, ready to revel as Magnus claimed yet more vengeance.
Punished, echoed his voice in her ears.Nothing but a worthless pet.
Desperation filled her as she surveyed the room. Alone. She was alone in this pit of serpents, and she wanted to scream.
Slanderous whispers carried through the hall, looks of disdain sent her way.Magnus’s name reached her ears, and she shuddered. Days from now, she’d be wed to that monster. Wouldbelongto him.
But Eisa.
All day, as her thoughts spiraled into darkness, she’d brought herself back to the light with a single thought. She had her sister—had the mind-to-mind connection. And Saga reminded herself to take things one step at a time. First, she’d get through this evening. Then she’d figure out the rest.
A cupbearer swirled up with a silver jug, wordlessly filling Saga’s goblet as Ivar shoved his own forward. “Oh, I’m sorry, Your Highness,” she said sweetly, dropping into a curtsey. “It was the last drop. I shall return with fresh wine in a moment.”
