Jarl Hakon was silent for a thoughtful moment, before his gaze fell on Rey. “What about Rey Galtung—”
“Father,” interjected Atli, “you cannot entrusthimwith such a task—the man has the temperament of a bear!”
Children!seethed Myrkur, His anger rising anew. Silla squeezed Rey’s hand so tightly he glanced her way. But words were building, and Silla could not hold them back…
“Rey will not go,” she said tersely. “He’s needed here—”
“It does not matter,” interjected Rey. She had the sensation he was trying to prevent her from talking, and slowly swiveled her gaze to him. “I’ve already sent men to the borderlands to entreat with Jarl Agnar.”
Schemer!hissed Myrkur, turning His gaze upon Rey. The god’s wings flapped violently, spurring her anger back to life.More secrets! More withheld truths! This man is no ally of ours, Eisa.
Betrayal and anger and dumbfounded confusion roiled in Silla’s blood. She longed to scratch her nails down his skin. Gouge his eyes from his skull. As she turned to Rey, concern flickered in his expression. “You didwhat?”
A muscle in his jaw feathered, but his thumb continued its soft, reassuring circles on the back of her hand. But Silla didn’t want to be comforted and she yanked her hand free.
Rey’s gaze hardened. “Someone was tampering with your correspondence, so I took it upon myself to determine whether your letters to Jarl Agnar ever arrived. Hef, Kálf, and Erik have gone to investigate, and if possible, I asked them to entreat with him.” Rey’s hard gaze slid to Jarl Hakon, whose face was slowly turning red. “I mean you no dishonor, Jarl Hakon, but I won’t take any risks where Eisa is involved.”
The jarl and Rey exchanged sharp words, but Silla was too busy weathering the storm of emotions inside her. She wanted to spill their blood. Wanted to show them that she was no placeholder queen.Why did he keep this from you, Eisa?seethed Myrkur.We cannot amass power with this man at our side!
Silla closed her eyes, trying to control her rapid breaths, yet the sting of Rey’s withheld truth made it difficult.
“It was merely a precaution,” Rey said carefully. She sensed his gaze on her, but was too angry to meet it. “I was only planning to tell you if they discovered something of concern.”
She homed in on his words. Tried to drag them into her mind.He did not want to burden us,she told Myrkur.He did it to protect us.But the god only snarled, rejecting the notion.
“Well.” It was Holger’s voice, from the opposite end of the table. “It seems we shall have to wait to hear Agnar’s response.”
“Which means,” said Rey, “we can turn our attentions to another matter of urgency.”
Stand up, Eisa!screamed Myrkur.Let me in and we’ll show them…
Silla could not open her eyes. Could only breathe through Myrkur’s displeased tantrum. She did not trust herself not to stand and unleash a verbal tirade like before.
Silla sensed Rey standing. Addressing the table. “An enemy gathers in the Western Woods,” he began, but she tuned him out. Placed a chasm between her and this room.Stop him,hissed Myrkur. Anger and bitterness burned inside her. Frustration and the thinnest thread of fear that these mortals would ruin all her plans.
Distantly, she heard Rey detailing everything that was happening in the Western Woods. The leech draining life from the trees, using it to create spawn in the form of undead creatures. He told of the empty village and the draugur being mustered to a place called Rökksgarde. He told them of the Forest Maiden’s awakening and her prophecy of a battle in the heartwood. “And so,” he concluded, “we ask for warriors to join us in the woods to do battle on the next full Marra. We’ll need to depart no later than eight days from now.”
“Forgive me.” Jarl Holger chuckled nervously. “Surely you did not just tell us—”
“That a poisonous mist is turning the good citizens of Íseldur into the restless dead?” Rey laughed caustically. “Yes.”
Speak, Eisa,pleaded Myrkur, sending a visceral wave of anger that had her gasping.Let me in!
As she sensed the room’s attention, her eyes fluttered open, only to find the jarls exchanging wary glances. Inside her, Myrkur clawed,trying to regain control, and it took all her might not to scream with rage.
Her fingers itched to wrap around Rey’s throat and squeeze. To show him what she thought of his keeping secrets from her. But a servant suddenly burst into the room.
“F-fire!” he exclaimed. “Fire in the hall! We must evacuate now!”
The words hung in the air for a moment before pandemonium broke out. Jarls leaped to their feet, jostling for the door, while the scent of smoke grew more potent by the second. Cries of alarm flowed in from the hallway, but for the first time since this cursed meeting had started, Silla felt a wave of relief. She could get out of here. Regain control of herself.
Myrkur thrashed about, screaming in rage. Rey, thank the gods, was at her elbow, calmly pulling her toward the exit. At least one person in this room had some sense in their head.
But even amid the tumult—even amid Myrkur’s angry rantings—Silla retained enough clarity of mind to know one thing for certain.
Today’s meeting had been an utter disaster.
Silla’s wool-wrapped sword flashed through the air in the sparring yard, yet it did little to quell her frustrations. The fire in Ashfall Fortress—caused when a serving thrall had knocked over a candle—was extinguished before extensive damage could be done, but the meeting with the jarls had been canceled. Jarl Hakon had rescheduled for the next day, tersely urging Silla to rest and regroup. What he hadn’t spoken aloud was written plainly enough across his face.
