“Do not trust the frost vixens,” said Rykka. “They are spiteful creatures. Dangerous to mortals. Get too near and they’ll bite that pretty nose of yours.”
Silla frowned, prodding her nose. She’d need to ask this Gyda woman for butter and fresh goat’s milk to offer the ice spirits. If the woman actually showed up tonight?—
“Well,” said Rey, dragging her back to the conversation. “Now you’ve heard all I have to say. And what is your answer, Harpa?”
The older woman stared at Rey for the better part of a minute. Silla counted her breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She’d never considered the possibility the Galdra instructor would not wish to teach her, but now, dread crept through her. If Harpa would not teach her, what did this mean for her plans to rescue Saga?
“She’s too old,” Harpa said at last. “Her mind is too firm.”
“She’s determined,” countered Rey.
She’s right here, Silla wanted to say, but wisely kept her mouth clamped shut.
“I’mtoo old,” muttered Harpa.
“EisaVolsik, Harpa.”
Another long silence stretched through the cabin. Embers hissed in the hearth, joined by the soft lull of the boiling cauldron.
“I cannot,” Harpa said at last.
Silla’s chest clenched tight, objections gathering on her tongue…
“Disappointing,” muttered Rey, grabbing Silla’s hand and pulling her to the door. “I should have known better than to hope.”
“I’m retired,” protested Harpa as Rey tugged Silla outdoors. “I have my weavings to tend to.”
“Yes, your precious weavings,” spat Rey. “How could I forget?”
Silla trailed him to the horses, panic and frustration battling within her. Was he truly just going to leave? As Rey gripped Brown Horse’s reins to keep her still, Silla climbed sullenly into the saddle. She waited for him to say something, to fight harder with Harpa, but he only climbed onto Horse.
Silla cast a look over her shoulder. Harpa watched from the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. There was uncertainty in her posture, a question in her eyes. But as Rey nudged Horse forward and Harpa said nothing, despair flooded Silla. What would they do now?
“Canyouperform the Cohesion Rite?” Silla asked Rey, a panicked edge to her voice. “Canyouteach me how to wield power like yours?—”
“Wait,” mumbled Rey, so low she barely heard him.
“For what?” demanded Silla. Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes. Kalasgarde was supposed to be a fresh start, and already things were falling apart…
“Trust me,” he said.
Trust is earned,she wanted to retort. But at that moment, Harpa’s voice reached her ears.
“Wait!” exclaimed the older woman. “Stop, Reynir!”
Rey exhaled, halting Horse.Harpa’s grumblings could be heard as she trudged across the snowy yard, tugging a shawl around her shoulders. At last, the old woman reached them, and Silla felt herself being examined once more.
“You look like him,” Harpa said. “Your father.” After a moment, she added, “King Kjartan.”
Silla tried desperately to keep her face neutral. All her life,Matthiashad been her father, but now it was a confusing, tangled mess. Another man had been there first—another man who’d entrusted her life to his bodyguard. Like Matthias, one of her birth father’s last acts had been to protect her.
Grief pushed open its cage, sliding over the threshold. But Silla slammed the door shut, confining the darkness for now.
“You have your father’s eyes, but your mother’s hair,” continued Harpa. Something passed behind her amber eyes. It could have been a thousand things, but for the briefest of moments, Silla thought it looked a bit like remorse.
“You knew my parents?”
“I taught them both.”
