Her performance at that meeting had been reprehensible.
Thankfully, after an hour of conspiratorial rants that had her pacing restlessly, Myrkur had seemed to wear Himself out. Now she sensed Him curled low inside her, dark wings tucked in tight. Yet the restless energy persisted inside Silla. She could not shake how Myrkur had shaped and molded her words in that hall. The things she’d said—the things she’dfelt—haunted her. The god of chaos was doing what He did best, causing strife and unrest among themortals, and she was furious with herself for letting Him control her like that.
A cry from above had Silla craning her neck, shielding her eyes from the winter sun’s glare. Her stomach hollowed out when she saw it—perched high on a spire sat that gods damned black hawk.
“Get out of here!” she shouted, waving her sword in the air. “Leave me alone, you wretched creature!”
Boots crunched in the snow behind her, and Silla whirled to find Rey approaching. And based on his expression, he’d seen the entire exchange.
“What?” Silla pushed a stray lock of hair from her face and sent him a challenging look. “I’m not mad!”
“I said no such thing.”
“I can see it in your eyes,Reynir.You think I’m unfit, just like those jarls!”
Rey stepped closer to grip her elbows. “I do not think you’re unfit, and neither do the jarls—”
“He manipulated me,” she whispered frantically, burying her face in his tunic. “He pulled on my emotions…whispered things in my ear. I cannot do this, Rey—I cannot live like this!”
“I know. We must renew our search for a cure.”
How?she wanted to scream. Her search for a cure had taken her through countless books—had rendered the Weaver comatose and had cost Fallgerd’s life. Silla had exhausted every avenue she could think of and was running out of hope.
Rey’s arms were a reassuring weight as he held her to him. But Silla wasn’t ready to let him soften her anger. She wanted to bathe in the flames of her burning wrath. Wanted to break and burn things to the ground. Silla shook free from his grip and pointed the wool-wrapped tip of her sword to the middle of his chest.
“Spar with me,” she challenged. Rey pursed his lips as he stared at the sword, then leveled her with a hard look.
“Very well.”
Silla paced restlessly as Rey wrapped his sword, and when he turned, his face was set in grim determination. Warmth fluttereddeep inside her, and for a moment, she was back in the snowy yard of their shield-home—before everything had gotten so gods damned complicated.
“I won’t apologize for sending those men to Jarl Agnar,” said Rey, surging forward. Silla parried his blow, glad that her restless emotion was finally channeled into something.
“I willneverapologize when it comes to your safety, Silla.” Rey ducked under her lashing sword, then delivered an upward swing in return. She blocked it without a heartbeat to spare.
Rey leaned between their locked swords. “I have already proven I’m willing to kill, to torture, to do whatever dark deeds I must to keep you safe. You’ll just have to get used to that.”
“Stubborn man,” she muttered, shoving him back and finding her stance.
Rey’s eyes burned like the hottest embers of a fire. “For you, always.”
“Always,” she repeated. The word felt somehow heavier than all the rest, as though it held meaning. As though he’d almost named this thing they’d been dancing around for some time.
Capitalizing on her momentary distraction, Rey drove forward in a vicious series of blows. Her sword fell to the ground, and Silla was left ducking and dodging, looking for an opening. She saw it when he drew up short—the fool of a man feared hurting her. With a shout, she threw herself at him, tackling him around the waist.
Silla knew he let her take him down to the ground, but she was too far gone to care. Rey landed hard, and though he’d retained his grip on his weapon, Silla pinned his sword arm beneath her knee. She straddled his upper chest, and the position sent heat blazing through her.
“Stupid sparring sessions in Kalasgarde,” Silla muttered. Her body now seemed to confuse sparring practice as the precursor to something altogether different. And based on Rey’s smoldering eyes, it had the same effect on him.
Silla’s moment of victory was short-lived. The air shuddered with magic, and a thin ribbon of smoke peeled up from Rey’s palms. Thesmoke slithered toward her, coiled along her arm, and caressed her shoulder.
“Cheater!” she accused, writhing as the smoke prickled the sensitive skin on the back of her neck.
“Opportunist,” he said cheerfully.
She squealed as the smoke delved down the collar of her jacket. And then everything happened quickly. Heat surged into her body. The taste of smoke burst on her tongue. And suddenly, the ribbons of smoke were pouring fromherpalms.
Rey’s eyes widened. “What—”
