Still, the transition was so abrupt, it gave her whiplash.
“The...squirrel,” Eyvind tried. “Will you tell me what startled you?”
A coarse laugh fell free. “I’m mad, isn’t it obvious?”
“No,” he replied, propping his chin on his fist and staring at her. “You can trust me, Hekla. Whatever you tell me stays between us.”
Trust him. As she had that night by the riverbank. Hekla quicklyrallied her defenses to do what they did best. “Trust you?” Her voice was a brittle thing. “When you haven’t even told me the true reason for Konal’s presence? Were you ever going to tell me he intends to perform some ritual?”
Eyvind’s surprise quickly morphed into anger. “Where did you hear that?”
The swell of victory inside her felt false, but she’d come too far to turn back now. “Your warriors talk behind your back, Hakonsson. They likened you to a hound on Konal’s leash. The red-haired one and the—” Hekla waved her hands.
“Vílki?”
She shrugged. “How should I know his name?”
His look was incredulous. “Perhaps because we’ve been here a week?”
Hekla leveled Eyvind with a look. “Focus, Hakonsson. Were I in your shoes, I’d make an example of them. Show them what happens to a warrior who slanders their leader.”
He stared at her with open curiosity and wonder, as though she’d just revealed she was the Queen of Íseldur. “What else would you do?”
“I would drop this absurd ritual Konal has planned and focus on venturing into the woods.”
That snapped Eyvind from his reverie. “You must be patient. After the double black moon?—”
“You’re not listening to me, Hakonsson,” she seethed.
“I hear you just fine.”
Hekla’s anger reached a sudden, violent boil. “If we wait until after the double black moon, we might all be dead!” she exclaimed, far louder than she’d meant. But Hekla could not shake that dream from her mind; the people in that barn, screaming as it engulfed them; Eyvind’s eyes ember red as he succumbed to the mist.
Hekla met his gaze with her own unyielding glare. “Istré’s people are not pawns in your games.”
Eyvind’s brows shot up. “I know that.”
“Do you?” Hekla’s heart pounded fiercely in her chest, and the words she’d pent up for days burst free. “You, who is granted the seat of honor beside Loftur simply because of your name? You, whose armor is so pristine, it’s clear you’ve never been tried in battle? Not to mention you’re a second son who clearly had no worries about being conscripted into the Klaernar’s ranks. Did Dear Papa arrange that as well?—”
“Bearing the Hakonsson name is not such a blessing as you might think,” Eyvind snapped. It was such an uncharacteristic display of anger that it gave Hekla pause. “I do not expect you to understand.” He growled in frustration. “You are the most maddening, hard-headed woman I’ve ever met.” Eyvind’s jaw shifted, but his eyes met hers. “Two days, Hekla. There aretwo daysuntil Loftur’s feast. Can you give me that?”
She pushed to her feet and folded her arms over her chest. Eyvind spun on the bench to face her.
“Two days,” Hekla said with cutting calm. “Then I’m going into that forest, Hakonsson.”
She didn’t wait for him to answer. Hekla turned on her heel and left the mead hall.
Hekla dreamedof a land of dark shapes and shadows. A world of claws and sharp teeth. Of eyes ever watching and ears ever listening. She rode down the road, her legs bare against her mare’s black coat. Beside her the forest gasped, desperate to free itself; but its world was controlled by a master, strings buried deep in the soil. And yet, beneath the spreading darkness in the woods, she could sense something else. Something quiet and ancient—a lone resistant being, protected by lignin’s tough embrace.
Wake,said a voice.We’re here.
Hekla’s eyes flew open. Before her stood a farmyard.A barn, with double oak doors chained shut. Stunted fields of barley all around her.
And in the middle of the yard stood a lone apple tree.
She knew that apple tree—had seen that barn. Both were from her dream the night before. Hekla waited for the barn to whisk away, but gradually became aware of just how vivid this dream was. Had she beencoldin her dreams before? Had she felt stones digging into her bare feet? Had she smelled that foul, moldering stench?
A nicker from behind had Hekla whirling. Her black mare chewed a mouthful of grass, watching Hekla impassively.
