Trust the knowing feeling inside you,Harpa had said, and Silla found she did indeed know exactly what to do. The light pulled at her, not with the book’s dark seduction, but rather a bright, steady flow—like a slow-moving current drawing her forward. And whereas the book had felt like a ruinous craving, thislight feltright—as though she were uniting with another fragment of her very being.
The orb’s light warmed her face, exultation filling her. At last, she would embrace this fundamental part of herself. Soon, she would do what she’d been born to do.
Reaching out, Silla clasped the orb.
Energy surged into her body, and for one infinitesimal moment, Silla understood the weavings of the world. She saw the connections Harpa had spoken of—the complex webwork of bonds holding this world together, organizing it into structures and beings and air and water. She saw threads of emotion and thought and memory, the weavings of the past and the future to come. The balance of it all was exquisite—warp and weft; darkness and light; chaos and order—so beautiful Silla could weep.
But then, it was gone. The wave crested. This knowledge and awareness grew liquid, slipping through her fingers and beyond her grasp.
The white radiance sank into her, settling in place just behind her ribcage. It was a gently lapping pool of galdur, and with it came the awareness that it felt so much like her because itwasher—it had always been there. But now that her heart and mind were linked, Silla could sense her galdur.
Silla felt a smile curving her lips as her eyes opened, and she stared at the rafters of Harpa’s cabin.
Chapter Twenty
SUNNAVÍK
Saga awoke with a full body jolt. Disoriented, she stared up at crimson pleats spilling and wrapping all around her like a silken cocoon. Immediately, her muscles eased in recognition—it was her bed’s canopy.
Her fingers pressed into her throbbing temples. She’d slept like the dead. Groggily, Saga sat up, pulling aside the curtains surrounding her bed. Pushing to the edge of the mattress, she peered into her chambers. The window curtains were thrown wide. It seemed to be the last light of the day, which meant Saga had missed the evening meal. She’d had a nap and…
“No,” she moaned, as the memories surged forth. The tonic, the wax sealer. Kassandr Rurik.
I need your help.
“A dream,” she muttered, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. Surely it had been a dream. Because even in her worst nightmares, she didn’t reveal such information to a man like Rurik. But her eyes found a scrap of parchment atop her dressing table, and Saga knew…somehow, sheknewit had been no dream. Head protesting, she rushed across the room, and read the parchment.
Asla Tower, tomorrow, 20th chime.
She turned it over, but there was nothing more. Rurik, it seemed, was a man of few words. Saga presumed the purpose of the note was to pass him the forged letter so he could fulfill his end of the bargain. Plus, the man would want his promised map.
Saga gritted her teeth, staring at the note. The last thing she remembered wasgiving into sleep’s pull in that dark passageway. Had Rurikcarriedher to her chambers? The thought of being unconscious—sovulnerable—around a man she scarcely knew made her squirm. Gods, how embarrassing, but also how utterly risky. Saga was betrothed to Ivar Ironheart’s son. What if Rurik had been seen?
Saga cast a cursory glance around the room in search of the scroll. Her eyes dropped to the dressing table drawer’s handle. She yanked it open. And there they were—the sealer laying next to a single scroll, the queen’s wasp sigil stamped in wax. Hands shaking, Saga picked up the scroll. Tore the seal. Read the letter within.
The girl and her companion were spotted in Svangormr Pass, confirming she’s entered the central corridor of Nordur lands. They must be apprehended at all costs. I don’t need to remind you what is at stake should the Wolf Feeders fail once more.
Yours,
S.
Alfson’s cramped letters blurred together, then came apart as Saga’s heartbeat thundered. This was it—the letter she’d sought. He’d done it. Rurik had intercepted the scroll, and now Saga held the power to help Eisa in her hand.
Gratitude swelled in her chest, making Saga feel light as air. And now she would merely change a word or two, sending the Wolf Feeders in entirely the wrong direction. By the time the error was discovered, it would be simple enough to seem innocent, yet would buy more time for Eisa.
Saga’s body tingled with excitement, but nausea quickly sliced through it. She’d obtained the letter, but at what cost? Rurik now knew Saga interfered with the queen’s letters—that she had Signe’s wax sealer stamp. Her head dropped into her hands at the realization; she’d just handed him the power to destroy her.
But Rurik’s words rang in her ears.
You will draw for me a map with all tunnels of Askaborg.
Saga’s brows furrowed. She’d exposed too much of herself to Rurik, but he, too, had revealed something to her. What need had the man for a map? Pondering in silence, several details slid into place: Rurik, discovering her near the falconry tower that first day—a remote location the man had no business being—and now, his interest in the tunnels.
“He searches for something,” she murmured, pushing a blonde lock back from her face. What did Rurik seek? Did his Druzhina search for it as well? Were they truly here for diplomatic reasons, or was it merely a ruse? But another realization settled, easing the burn of discomfort in her stomach. “Rurik cannotexpose me without risking the revelation of his own secret.” It was a thin, fragile thing, this hope, but Saga clung to it with everything she had.
“Focus,” she told herself, rising to unsteady feet. Right now, there was only the scroll. Only Eisa. Saga poured water from a pitcher into a washbasin, splashing her cheeks. And as her mind steadied, she listed each step.
Forge the instructions. Reseal the scrolls. Meet Rurik in Asla Tower.
