SUNNAVÍK
Daughter of Svalla,said the voice in Saga’s mind,I’ve been waiting for you.
She blinked. The strange thing arched its back and protracted its claws in a delicious stretch. Was this her galdur? A living thing that spoke?
When she’d claimed her power from the shimmering winterwing cage, it had felt like part of herself. But this…this was decidedly different. Decidedlyother. If only Eisa was here; if only she had someone to ask. But instead, Saga faced a room of people who looked at her with disgust.
Together, said the thing,we will make them pay. Would you like that, Saga?
Her anger burned brighter, hotter, so deliciously potent. For so many years, she’d been powerless. Forced to comply.
Let me in, Saga, and together we’ll make it end.
In?she thought, confused. Saga could sense this creature within, now pacing to and fro.
We can make them pay, said the thing. Saga’s anger flared as she gazed at the feasting tables. An entire room of betrayers and deceivers, staring at her as though she’d done wrong.
“Seize her!” cried Signe, pushing to her feet. Guards rushed in from the corners of the room, causing Saga’s heart to beat wildly.
They’ll put you in the dungeons, said the voice.Then to the pillar. They’ll make a spectacle of it, just like your parents.
A sob built in the back of Saga’s throat. She thought of her mother andfather. Of Ana and her little sister. The guards were upon her, Saga's arms seized and wrenched behind her back.
Let me in, and I will stop them. Let me in and we can avenge your parents and Ana. And poor little Bryndís.
A child’s broken body flashed in her mind’s eye, anger and revulsion churning within her.
Yes,thought Saga, dazed and enticed. She tasted vengeance on the back of her tongue, but it was not nearly enough.
“Signe!” boomed Ivar. “Explain what is going on.”
“She’s Galdra,” exclaimed Signe. “I placed a drug in her wine, and she’s reacted!”
“Mother!” exclaimed Yrsa. “Surely, you’re mistaken!”
The king stared hard at Saga, as though searching for proof. Fear crossed his face, quickly twisting to rage. “Get her out of here!” he bellowed at the guards, backing away. Saga was dragged away from Ivar, but Yrsa followed along the table’s opposite side, arguing with the guards.
We can avenge all the innocents they’ve slain,said the thing, strumming her veins.We’ll make them hurt.The creature paused, a grin slowly spreading.We can make the queen hurt worst of all.
An ugly feeling spread through Saga. She thought of Signe’s story—of the cat and the mice.I am the cat,Signe had said. I devour curious little creatures.
Saga dug her feet in, bringing the guards to a halt. “I’m not a mouse,” growled Saga over her shoulder. Her gaze bounced from the queen’s widened blue eyes to Ivar’s cold, hard ones. “Nor am I prey.”
Let me in now, Saga,purred the voice, as the guards yanked her forward.
“I,” Saga snarled, “am a predator. And I will no longer be caged away.”Do it, she told the thing, relinquishing control.
It drew from her essence, draining it to the last drop, then…changed it somehow. Bonds snapped, rearranging, forged anew into something that was no longerself, but altogetherother. Instead of a gently lapping pool behind her sternum, it was a raging torrent of power churning through her veins—a thing that could not be tamed, because it was chaos itself. She was merely a vessel for this power—destruction incarnate.
The guards were knocked aside with a casual flick of her hands, and as Saga rounded on the king and queen, she caught sight of something beneath her gloves. She tugged them off and stared at the dark blue spreading through her veins, like ink through water.
“Seize her!” roared Ivar, though he sounded strangely distant. He backed away, but Yrsa stood transfixed, her widened eyes on Saga’s dark blue veins.
Saga’s hair lifted, blonde tendrils floating around her head, twisting like the crown she was owed. The crown they’d stolen.
Yours, purred the creature.They will pay.
A wave built inside her, high and mighty as a tidal wave. It rolled on, pulling more power into it as it built in height and momentum. The tension was excruciating, the energy clawing at her veins. Saga’s hands burned like scorched lava stones, dry and so unbearably hot.
