Jonas slowed, all the words he’d carefully practiced emptying from his skull. “Your Highness—”
“If you value your head, I caution you not to take another step,” growled the queen’s enormous guard.
Swallowing, Jonas came to an abrupt stop, watching the queen beyond the warrior’s shoulder. Queen Signe made no outward indication she’d noticed Jonas, yet he felt the piercing weight of her gaze from under her black veil.
“I would ask for a moment of your time, Your Highness,” Jonas tried.
But the queen turned away from him as she stepped onto the cobbled street lining the harbor.
“Please!” Jonas’s chest tightened with his rising desperation.
The queen’s guards fell into formation around her, and they began the trek back up to Askaborg.
“Svangormr Pass!”
Slowly, the queen turned. Again, that unnerving black veil kept her reaction hidden, yet as she strode toward him, he sensed her anger. Swallowing, Jonas forced himself to stand his ground, even as the queen and her twenty-odd guards descended upon him.
Queen Signe stopped half a dozen paces from him—silent, as though examining him. “You were in Svangormr Pass,” said the queen. “And yet you are not Klaernar.”
Jonas shook his head. “I assisted Kaptein Ulfar.”
“Kaptein Ulfar,” repeated the queen with a clear note of distaste. She cocked her head to the side. “Your name, warrior?”
“Jonas Svik, Your Highness.”
“Jonas,” said the queen. “Now I have a name for the warrior who got a squadron of my most skilled warriors killed.” She made a quick gesture, and half of her guards stepped forward.
Panic rose in Jonas’s chest. “It wasn’t like that. My plan would have worked, we had the upper hand, but—” His arms were wrenched behind his back and he was quickly disavowed of his weapons. “There was an explosion a-and…something happened to the Chosen. Decapitated, all of them—”
But the queen had turned her back on him. Jonas’s heartbeat now seemed to crack against his chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He hadn’t dragged himself from the wilds of Nordur for this…
“I would have you put to the pillar,Jonas,” spat Signe over her shoulder. “But I have something else in mind for you.” Half of her guards had closed around her as they made their way down the harborside road.
“What do you want done with him, Your Highness?” asked the guard, now gripping Jonas’s arm.
The queen did not so much as pause as she called out, “Take him to Volund.”
Chapter 8
Kovograd, Zagadka
The balcony door nagged at Saga. She paced the confines of her room, trying to ignore it, but each time she passed by, her guilt burned hotter. She’d made such progress in Íseldur. Could not let herself falter now. And each day that passed without venturing outdoors made it just a little harder to rebuild her courage.
As it called to her now, she glared at the door.Tomorrow,Saga promised it. The truth was, she had no plans to leave this room today. Not after what she’d discovered days earlier—Kassandr Rurik being whipped before his father.
The sight had been shocking, and her initial instinct had been to flee. But those marks on his back had burned into her eyelids, and before she’d known what was happening, Saga’s anger had eclipsed her panic. And so she’d stormed back into that room and demanded they release him. It wasn’t until later that Saga realized the entire thing had been orchestrated by Kassandr Rurik—a plan to force her to meet with the high prince of Zagadka.
Initially, she’d been stunned to find her door unlocked and the corridors beyond unattended. And in that moment, Kassandr’s casual mention of the red room—of the weapons to be found there—had come swiftly to mind. Saga had foolishly thought it a sign from the gods. But no. It hadn’t been the gods at all, but that meddlesome man.
Worry twinged inside her, against her better judgment. She rubbed her scarred hands, wondering if Kassandr had applied ointment to his wounds; if they’d been bandaged properly.
Saga physically shook her head, as though that would dislodge the thought, then continued pacing. She’d now done as the high prince had requested and written to Ivar. Saga had taken responsibility for the explosion and assured the king that the Zagadkians had played no role in it. And she’d had a lump in her throat as she’d penned her apology for her role in Princess Yrsa’s death. By the time Saga had handed the letter to Alasa, she’d been utterly dejected. Yrsa was innocent in all of this.
But now Saga had played her part, and it was time for the high prince to play his. He’d assured her they’d meet and discuss her return to Íseldur. Saga would request she be delivered to Midfjord, as Kassandr had originally agreed. From there, she would find the Uppreisna and try to track down her sister’s whereabouts. But worry gathered in her stomach as she probed inward for any sign of Eisa. And for the hundredth time, Saga was met with utter silence. What if she was too late? What if Eisa had perished beneath the mountain of snow? Shehadto get back to Íseldur. Had to find out for certain what had happened to Eisa.
A gentle knock at the door had Saga’s heart leaping in her chest. Instinct took hold, and she soon stood beside the trestle table where she took her meals, brandishing a silver candelabra.
The bolt rumbled, and the door swung open, and she readied herself to fight. But instead of the familiar pleated armor the Zagadkian warriors favored, red silk skirts whirled into the room. Saga’s grip on the candelabra loosened.
