The wind was fierce and biting, but as Silla stared at Jonas, she could not feel it. A range of emotions swamped her—grief for what had once been, shame for her role in his brother’s death, and a distinct sense of inadequacy. Jonas had discarded her. Tossed her away. Seeing him again brought her back to that cell, cold and scared, shrinking in on herself.
Jonas looked the same as always. Golden hair pulled back at his crown, strands Silla had run her fingers through countless times. Eyes the color of a summer sky, always with that hint of arrogance. She hated that she knew it was merely a mask to conceal his inner wounds—that she knew beneath Jonas’s collar would hang his family’s talisman, reminding him of all he’d lost and strove to regain.
A chasm opened wide in her chest. She despised him for drugging her and giving her to the Klaernar yet understood his motives all at once. But as Jonas stared back at her with hard, unfeeling eyes, at last, the cold of the mountains penetrated her skin.
Silla chilled further as two dozen armed Klaernar stepped up behind Jonas. Black wolf-pelt cloaks swirled in the wind, revealing handaxes and hevríts sheathed in their battle belts, their claw-tattooed faces reigniting her long-learned fear of the King’s Claws.
“A trap,” murmured Rey, strong at her side. “They lured the serpents here to thin us out…to tire us.” He nodded down the path, and at last, Silla understood how the serpents had come to be here. Sheep carcasses were heaped over blood-spattered snow, positioned directly beside the icy waters of the river. “They triggered that avalanche to block our retreat.”
Silla’s mind whirled, desperate to form a plan. Galdur nearly drained, they were outnumbered, and had nowhere to retreat.
“Fuck,” muttered Erik, appearing to reach the same conclusion.
Jonas’s eyes climbed from Silla’s boots up to her face. He scoffed. “Nice lébrynja, Curls. You think yourself a warrior now?” His gaze flitted to his former headman. “I see you wasted no time taking my leavings, Rey.”
Beside her, Rey unsheathed his sword and widened his stance.
Jonas’s lips quirked. “She’s something, isn’t she? Skin so soft—smells so sweet. Best you find it out from me, Rey—beneath the pretty face, she’s the spawn of Myrkur.”
“Not another word,” warned Rey in a low growl.
“I still hear her voice when I’m alone in my bed at night.More Jonas, you feel so good.”
“Hold your tongue, or I’ll cut it out and feed it to you.” Rey stepped forward, but Silla put a hand on his arm.
“Do not let him stir you,” she hissed, though her cheeks burned fiercely.
“You turned your back on your kin,” snarled Rey. “The man I knew was better than that.”
“Kin?” scoffed Jonas. “Shewas never kin. Ilías…he was kin.”
“What about me, Jonas? What about Hekla and Gunnar and Sigrún? We were your family as well. You betray us all and dishonor your brother.”
“You do not speak for Ilías.” Jonas spat on the ground. “I swore an oath to my brother and intend to fulfill it. She must pay.”
Rey shook his head, and Silla could feel his disappointment. “It was a warrior’s death, Jonas. An honorable one.”
“Aneedlessone!” exclaimed Jonas, a vein pulsing in his forehead.
“This will only end with more of your sorrow,” warned Rey.
“Enough, Rey,” said Jonas. “My quarrel is not with you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Jonas,” growled Rey. “If your quarrel is with her, then itismy fight. Heed my warning as I’ll say it only once: you touch her, and I’ll open your throat with my axe.”
“She’s got you wrapped around her finger, Rey. That’s what she does. She tricks you. She’s aliar.”
“I know she’s a liar. She’smyliar, though.”
“Yours.” Jonas huffed. “Ah. That’s right,Slátrari.” His lip curled. “Your own lies have caught up with you at last. All those years lying to the Crew. Hiding what you are while preaching honor.”
“Understand that I did not do so maliciously. Some lies are necessary to stay alive in this kingdom,” said Rey, uneasily.
“Deceitful, the pair of you.” Jonas shook his head. “You deserve one another.” He turned to Silla, those brilliant blue eyes so filled with hate. “Silla. Or do you preferEisa?” His lip curled. “There is no escape for you. But if you come willingly, we will spare the others.”
To Silla’s surprise, Kálf stepped forward, leaning heavily on Mýr’s shoulder. “You’ll need to cut through us first,” he snarled.
“I see she’s poisoned the rest of you with her lies as well,” said Jonas. “This woman brings nothing but destruction. A foolish choice to put yourself in her path.”
