What do you want?
I want to play, dear Eisa. Give me access to your heart, and I will save you.
No,thought Silla, anger flooding her.
My,purred Myrkur, his claws kneading her spine in a gentle, sinuous rhythm.Such delicious passion you mortals have.I can free you from this snowy tomb.Let me in, Eisa.
No!
He’ll die, said Myrkur, fueling her panic.If you don’t let me in, Galtung will die. Her mind was flooded with images—Rey strapped to a bed, flesh torn from his arms and legs. Skin ashen, he groaned, head bobbing to the side.
Her vision went black, except for the shimmering stars. Tired, she was so tired. Tired of running. Tired of fighting.
You promised her you’d be reunited,said Myrkur, Saga’s face flashing in her mind’s eye.Remember your promise,rang Silla’s own voice. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking down her cheeks.
Give in, said Myrkur,and I’ll make it easy. Intoxicating tendrils unfurled within her. She wanted to give in, to make it all stop. But what did it mean to grant the god of chaos access to her heart?
What will happen?she asked. Her head spun, the end ever closer.
You let me in. We escape the snow. And then, dear girl, we’ll make them pay.
A hunger grew inside her. One that had been long tucked away. Vengeance and death—blood of the Klaernar spilled on the snow. Silla would take their heads for the role they’d played in the downfall of this kingdom; for every soul lost on the pillar; for each woman who’d suffered in their prison cells.
We’ll make them pay, Eisa. We shall spill their blood.
Everything faded, save for the gnawing desire to kill. But some small thread of rational thought remained within Silla.What do you gain from this?
Myrkur laughed, a sharp, grating sound along the inside of her skull.I get to play, he said.I get a taste of human emotion.
And what of a life for a life?
Myrkur purred, slinking around her spine.Ahh, but I haven’t decided whose life I want.
The words were hazy in Silla’s addled mind. Her air had run out, and soon she would die.
You must choose, dear Eisa. To live or to die. To let Signe win or to take victory for yourself. To keep your promise to your sister, or to abandon her, like all others have.
Distantly, Silla knew there was no right choice.Sometimes we must surrender to win, she thought grimly. Had she not told Jonas she would always choose to fight for Íseldur? Had she not promised her sister they would see one another again? And though it made her a coward to think it, Silla did not wish to die.
Come in,she whispered. Myrkur smiled, a cold, toothy grin.
And then Silla surrendered the heart of her magic to the god of chaos.
Chapter Eighty-Five
The avalanche had plowed down the mountain, consuming all in its path. And yet, it did not have the same breadth as the previous one; and for that reason alone, Rey was left standing. But where Silla had stood moments before was now nothing but white—a mound of hard-packed snow and ice. The entire gods damned mountainside had slid free.
Helpless. He was utterly helpless, hands bound behind his back, galdur quelled with those infernal quills. Yet Rey’s heart still pumped hope through his veins. His girl was a fighter. He struggled against his restraints, desperate to get to her.
But Rey’s binds held fast, and with each passing minute, his hope dissolved. Ice speared through him. It had been too good, too sweet. Things like that never lasted, not in his life.
It was a small consolation that Jonas was buried alongside her.
“Free me!” Rey bellowed, his throat raw and burning, as the dozen surviving Klaernar ambled about the wreckage, sniffing for Silla and Jonas’s scent. He supposed they’d need a body to prove to their queen that Eisa Volsik was dead.
The Klaernar cocked their heads in his direction, but soon continued their hunt. Too much time had passed, Rey knew it deep inside, but he could not give up on her—would notgive up. He twisted onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest and bringing his bound hands to his front. Examining his restraints, Rey cursed inwardly. This kind of cuff could only be opened by key or by blacksmith.
The ground rumbled, and his gaze flew up the mountain, bracing for another avalanche. But the mountainside was still, and the vibrations seemed to come from below—and somewhere nearby.
