And with that, Saga strode from her chambers, the men at her heels.
The courtyard was filled with an assortment of horsemaidens and Zagadkians eyeing one another with suspicion. Saga glanced from Khiva, horsemaidens huddled around her as she spoke rapidly in their clan’s tongue, to Oleg, scowling with a swollen right eye. Zagadkian nobles and elders milled about, though they’d forgone their ceremonial garb in favor of armored jackets. At the farthest end of the courtyard stood the high prince, head bent in conversation with the clansmother. Saga blinked. What she wouldn’t give to be an insect listening in on the ruined wall beside them.
After a single, fortifying breath, Saga entered the courtyard,Kassandr and Rov flanking her. The crowd immediately hushed, making the rapid beat of Saga’s heart feel even more pronounced. She kept her gaze fixed on the high prince as Magnus’s voice echoed in her skull.
You deserve to be punished.
But it was weaker, this voice, and far less effective than it once had been. Magnus was dead. The Urkans had been driven away. And Saga was not the girl she’d been that day in the stables when Magnus had branded her hands and deemed her property. Her hand found the feather she kept in her pocket, and as her thumb stroked along the downy barbs, Saga’s heart calmed just a bit.
Saga nodded at Khiva and the horse maidens gathered around her, then at Elisava and the noblewomen with whom she’d constructed fire flasks. She glimpsed Alasa and other servants who’d assisted the healers and helped extinguish fires, and as she caught sight of Havoc, soaring high in the skies above, Saga’s heart was suddenly so full, she feared it might burst.
She’d been brought to this kingdom against her will. Now she was struck with the realization that Kovograd felt more like a home than Askaborg had in many long years.
With a shaky breath, Saga joined the high prince and clansmother by the ruins of the bell tower. Each looked to have aged a decade, yet their eyes were filled with fierce determination. Good.
“Sire,” she said, dipping into a curtsy. “Might I speak to the crowd?”
The high prince eyed her with a new respect. She’d been pleased at his response to the horsemaidens, welcoming them into the fortress with unrestrained emotion. It had felt like a momentous occasion as the high prince had shaken hands with the clansmother; as he’d ordered his retinue to fetch whatever provisions the horsemaidens were in need of. Saga was glad to see the high prince did not think himself above such shows of gratitude.
“You may,” said the high prince with a small smile.
With a deep breath, Saga climbed atop a large boulder in the rubble, giving her height and allowing her voice to carry.
“People of Zagadka!” she called, the speech she and Elisava had practiced for days now flowing smoothly from her tongue. “You fought valiantly and restored peace to your isle. Thanks to your efforts, Urkans were expelled!”
War cries rose up from the fearsome horsewomen, while the easterners thumped swords against shields and breastplates. Saga waited for the din to quiet before she continued.
“I know is tempting to enjoy this victory. But we must not forget that King Ivar will return with even bigger numbers.”
All jubilance evaporated in an instant.
“How do you know this?” snapped Oleg, glowering from the front of the crowd.
“Above all else,” said Saga carefully, “Urkans are thirsty for Bear God’s blessing. This loss will disgrace Ivar. He will seek to regain his honor.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “They are not yet truly vanquished.”
A murmur rose up from the crowd, and Saga felt the stares of the clansmother and the high prince boring into her.
“What we faced is small part of Ivar’s power. You see, he sailed without his father’s fleet. Once King Harald arrives in Íseldur, Ivar will have hundreds of ships—thousands of warriors—”
Saga’s breaths shallowed as a raven cried far overhead, but as her thumb stroked the feather in her pocket, it eased just a touch.
“Now you have seen Urkans with your own eyes! You have seen their war contraptions and battle frenzy. You have seen destruction of Kovograd River and land gates! Now you know what we fight against.”
The horsewomen and Zagadkians held identical expressions of astonishment as Saga’s unnerving words settled.
“But!” cried out Saga. “You also have seen proof Urkans are not invincible! Your victory proves they can be vanquished!”
“What is it you’re dancing around, queen of Íseldur?” asked the high prince with cutting calm.
Saga did not blame him for his wary expression.
“I ask,” said Saga, her gaze drifting to the clansmother, then backto the high prince, “for you to come to Íseldur. Join with my people. Together, we have chance against Urkans. Together, we can eradicate this evil.”
The high prince’s face grew bone white, while the clansmother’s turned a violent shade of red. The pair exchanged a look that told Saga that, for once, they were in complete alignment.
The clansmother’s gaze hardened as she turned back to Saga. “We cannot simply cross an ocean!” she protested. “Our horses cannot fly such a distance. Are you suggesting they travel byboat?”
In truth, Saga hadn’t thought quite so far ahead, but she did not let the clansmother know it. “I am eager to discuss such matters with those who know best,” she said carefully.
