“Rot,” Vig said. “The smell of moldered things. Yet there were no corpses.”
Rey’s curiosity was piqued.Take me to the field,he wanted to demand.
But logic quickly forced the thought back. He had Silla to worry about. Arrangements for Istré. The Uppreisna to contact. And he still had to consider how he’d put his life back together. “It is likely a pack of grimwolves,” he said instead, focusing back on his porridge.
“Good,” said Vig, exhaling in clear relief. “Good. I am glad an expert can put my fears to rest.” Rey eyed his former friend with a faint note of respect. Regardless of his personal quarrels, Vig would do what it took to ensure the safety of those around him.
“Good,” said Rey. And with that, Vig departed.
Silla’s breathclouded the northern air as she stared up at the enormous mountains. Turning in a full circle, she took them in—jagged snow-capped peaks, spearing clear blue skies. The raw beauty of Nordur was astounding, its wildness making her feel like a small thing at nature’s mercy.
Shaking herself, Silla prodded inwardly, as she’d done a dozen or more times already this morning. There it was—the heart of her magic shimmering brightly within. It was real. She hadn’t dreamed it.
A smile spread across her lips, and it deepened as Rey’s voice reached her from within the shield-home. Warmth spread across her cheeks as she recalled the rest of that day. After her Cohesion Rite, they’d ridden back to the shield-home, and Rey had groomed the horses, while Silla collapsed on the bench, utterly exhausted.
Rey had soon joined her, sprawled on the bench with an arm slung over the back of it. “How do you feel?” he’d asked gruffly. Perhaps she’d been delirious with fatigue, but she’d decided she rather adored that stern, sharp voice of his.
“Like…I’m more myself than ever before,” Silla had said, eyeing the space between his arm and his chest. It was a little Silla-sized pocket—one she now knew she fit rather well. Gods, she needed a pet.
Rey had nodded. “You’ve found a part of yourself you never knew you were missing.”
“Exactly.” Impulsively, she’d scooted along the bench, closer to Rey.
“You’ve expended a great deal of energy,” he said, eyeing her, “but a night’s sleep shall restore you.”
Silla’s thigh had brushed against his, sending a jolt of heat through her.
“What are you doing?” he’d asked, in that gruff, Axe Eyes voice.
“I’m…cold.” She’d stared at the cozy-looking crook, hoping he’d understand.
“Fine,” he’d relented, rolling his eyes.
Silla had eagerly leaned against him, tucking her feet up on the bench. “You’re like my own personal hearthfire,” she murmured, curling against him and trying to ignore the expanse of firm muscle. Warmth. She was merely seekingwarmth.
Rey tensed beneath her, as though he was deeply uncomfortable. Uncertainty had filled her at that, and Silla had lifted her head, locking eyes with him. She’d felt foolish in that moment, wondering what she’d been thinking. This was Axe Eyes, not a puppy for her to cuddle.
She made to push away from him, but Rey’s arm slid off the back of the bench, scooping her even closer. Silla’s heart had pounded a little faster at that. In truth, she’d felt dizzy. She’d gone through her Rite and claimed her magic. And now she was one step closer to rescuing Saga.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she’d murmured after a long while. At that point, she’d scarcely been able to speak through her fatigue. “I won’t tell a soul that the fearsome Axe Eyes has a soft side.”
And as blackness had pulled her into sleep, she could have sworn she’d heard him say, “only for you, Sunshine.”
Turning away from the shield-home, Silla gave herself a mental shake. In her grief, she’d turned to Jonas for comfort. She could not fall into such habits with Rey. Not when they had to share such close quarters and he was her only link to the Galdra.
With a deep breath, Silla continued across the yard. But as she moved, she caught a blur of bright blue zipping back and forth in the woods. Her breath hitched. This time, she was certain—it was an ice spirit.
“I left you some butter last night,” Silla whisper-called into the bushes. “Was it to your liking?” But the spirit didn’t stir.Her feet itched to chase after it, but she knew it would be pointless. Spirits who did not wish to be seen were quite adept at remaining hidden. With a sigh, she turned to the stables.
That was when she saw it: a symbol drawn in shimmering frost on the stable’s post. With a single vertical line and two diagonal arms pointing downward, Silla recognized it at once as the protection rune, though upside down. As the symbol melted in the morning light, Silla whirled in search of the ice spirit.
Had the spirit drawn the symbol? What did this mean?
But the ice spirit was nowhere to be seen, and so she continued on to the stables. As she stepped under the roof, the scent of hay and horse met her.
“Good morning, lovelies,” she said softly, approaching the two horses. Horse drew nearer, nuzzling her palm, while Brown Horse looked away. Irritation flared inside Silla, chased quickly by determination. She was going to get this horse to love her if it was the last thing she did.
At the very least, the obstinate creature hadn’t nipped at her in some time. And after feeding half of an oatcake to Horse, Silla gathered her bravery. Flattening her palm, she held it out for Brown Horse to take. She watched for the telltale signs of the horse’s agitation—flattened ears and swishingtail.
