“It is not Eisa’s doing,” spat Mýr. “Let us place the blame where it belongs—on the shoulders of that farce of a queen.”
Ignoring Mýr, Jonas returned his gaze to Silla. “This is your last warning, Silla. We can do this by word or blade. Surely you do not wish for more people to die.”
Silla watched him, choosing her words carefully. “I do not wish for more death; in that you are right.” Few though their group was, Silla felt their support building her up. “But I will always choose to fight for Íseldur, no matter the odds.”
Her blood pumped hot through her veins. “I owe it to my kingdom. To my family. I owe it to Matthias Nordvig, Ilías Svik, to Skeggagrim and Nefi and Rannver, all of who died to keep me safe. But most of all, I owe it to my people, who’ve long suffered under the Urkan regime.”
Silla had planned to say none of it. Hadn’t known she felt it until the words spilled from her heart. But now, shefeltit, down to her very marrow. Long had it taken her to get to this place, but here she was.
“Here are your options,” Silla continued. “Ride back down that trail, or become food for the ravens. I can see you think yourself quite clever. But hear me now, Jonas: a hungry wolf is bound to wage a hard battle. And we, the Galdra, arestarving.”
Jonas let out a bark of incredulous laughter. As the sound echoed off the mountains surrounding them, the distantwhumfof falling snow met their ears. The group collectively held their breaths, releasing them only when silence was restored.
Jonas turned his gaze to Silla. “Gods. You’ve spent too much time with Rey. Your arrogance is astounding.”
Silla shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Jonas. Sorry for what you’ve been through. But this”—she gestured at the Klaernarbehind him—“this is not the way. It is not right, and you know it in your heart.”
“Do not presume to know my heart,” he growled.
“I know family means everything to you,” she answered. “I know you wish only to honor them. It is not too late. Leave now, Jonas, and I’ll let you live.”
He scoffed again. “You’lllet me live. Curls. Your threats are as soft as your cunt.”
With a ragged exhale, Rey stepped forward, but Silla grabbed his hand, yanking him back. She expressed her light; the sword forming quickly. But she could sense a hollowness within—her source was lower than it had ever been before. Frost crackled along the blade’s length as she took her familiar defensive stance.
The slightest widening of his eyes was the only trace of surprise from Jonas. Just as quickly, it was gone. “It’ll be blades then,” he said dully.
With a subtle nod, the Klaernar put their ringed knuckles to their noses, inhaling deeply.
“Berskium powder stored in their rings,” hissed Kálf. “’Twill give them berserker power and rage.”
Indeed as they watched, the Klaernar shuddered, a wild look filling their eyes. As a red-bearded man on the farthest end locked eyes with Silla, he bared his teeth in an ugly snarl. The Klaernar squadron growled and shifted, some bashing swords against their shields, others biting down on the rims.
“Do not let their bravado frighten you,” murmured Rey, his boot edging against hers. Smoke peeled up from his palms, gathering above him. “The berskium powder makes them strong, yes, but it also makes them reckless.”
Swallowing, Silla braced herself for the Klaernar’s advance. Beside her, Kálf’s flames licked to life. But before their small band of Galdra could unleash themselves upon the Klaernar, the two dozen snarling warriors vanished into thin air.
A cruel smile crept across Jonas’s face. “The queen’s Chosen are eager to test themselves in battle.”
Chapter Eighty-Two
SVANGORMR PASS
“Shadow Hounds!” hissed Erik, widening his stance while Runný flashed out of sight.
“How?” spluttered Silla, tracking the footprints in the snow as their snarling opponents approached. “How can they…they’reKlaernar…”
“The queen has a new class of warriors,” growled an invisible foe.
“This is against the natural order of things,” said Kálf, standing gingerly on his injured leg. “Whatever this is, the queen trifles with things she should not.”
“Queen Signe needs weapons in her arsenal,” said Jonas. “And you, Silla, are apparently of great value.”
“I’m not a weapon for her to use,” Silla snapped, gazing at her frostfire. Was this why the queen had tracked her all this time? Because she wanted this sword?Or was it the other gift...the one supposedly given by Sunnvald?
Jonas scowled. “She’s come to that very conclusion. And as you’ve proven more evasive than she’d expected, the queen has decided you must be destroyed.”
Footsteps closed in on them, growls vibrating the air.
