Eilif bustled up, taking the linen from her hand. Before Silla could protest, a second serving woman was at her elbow, pouring her a fresh goblet. Then, to her great distaste, Eilif sipped the wine to detect poison. Across the table, Kaeja glanced her way, whispering animatedly to Lady Liv.
Silla’s skin prickled with humiliation. This was her first chance to make a good impression upon the jarls of the north, and already she was failing. Her gaze drifted across the table, where Liv and Kaeja conversed with Helgi’s brothers. Kaeja’s posture was straightbut at ease, her fingers wrapped daintily around her goblet as she laughed at something one of them said. How did they make it seem so effortless?
Atli pulled her chair out, and Silla took a seat. “Thank you.”
“Someone ought to have warned you,” said Atli as he took his own seat. He lowered his voice. “Helgi might be heir to the Sveinar lands, but the man is a lecherous scoundrel.”
Her fingertips trailed absently along her neckline. “I…had a curious sense about him.”
“And perhaps my motives weren’t entirely selfless.” Atli picked up his goblet and swirled his wine. “If anyone shows you the meadows, it ought to be me.”
Silla’s gaze darted to Atli’s, trying to find any hidden meaning in his words. She was not acompletefool. Atli was so frequently seated beside her at meals, and it was impossible to miss Jarl Hakon’s frequent eager glances between the pair. Marriage to a man like Atli Hakonsson, heir to the largest landholdings in the north of Íseldur, was precisely what Lady Tala would deem “beneficial.”
Silla lowered her voice, but held his gaze. “You do know that I am with Rey?”
Atli shrugged, his smile gleaming. “You’re a beautiful woman. Surely you cannot blame a man for trying—” Atli ran his hand along his warrior’s braid, glancing toward his father. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Silla. “Let us be friends, then. I know Lady Tala can be rather…zealousin her teachings. If you’d like a break, the offer stands.”
Silla could have sworn there was still a flirtatious glint in his eye, but she couldn’t be certain.
Atli nudged her with an elbow. “Is that a yes to the meadows?”
A smile spread across her lips, and Silla nodded. “Yes.”
But as her gaze drifted across the table, she caught Kaeja watching her and Atli. And while she could not read the look in her eyes, Silla was certain she did not like whatever it hinted.
Chapter 16
Ruins of Istré, near the Western Woods
Rey dreamed of Silla.
She reclined in the grass, moonflowers adorning her curls and starlight shining in her eyes.
“Together,” she whispered, tracing the dragon tattooed across his chest. “Frightened together.”
The words lit a hearthfire deep in his chest, heating him all the way through. Soft fingertips trailed up his biceps then slid into his beard before pulling him down to her. And when Rey’s lips met hers, it felt like coming home.
He woke in a cold bedroll, a stone digging into his back and the scent of Istré’s charred ruins heavy in his nose. Beside him, one of Eyvind’s warriors snored loudly, and Rey stared at the darkness above, wondering if he’d ever felt so homesick in his life.
It was madness, of course. For weeks now, he’d longed to be here, in Istré, with his Bloodaxe brothers and sisters around him. It was his responsibility to finish what he’d started so many weeks ago. But now that he was here, he felt out of sorts.
Rey caught himself smiling at misshapen rocks, wishing Silla was here, pointing them out and humming incessantly. The crook between his arm and side where she liked to nestle ached for her. He’d lost his gods damned mind for this woman and needed to get hishead on straight. Too many people depended on him to get this job right.
Yet Rey couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. It was the strangest sensation—as though the once-straight threads of his fate had been rewoven into something meandering and ill-defined.
But he needed to see this job to the end. And the discovery that the mist had traveled so far from the Western Woods—that it had likely Turned an entire village draugur—had only solidified his decision. They had to discover the source of the mist and destroy it for good.
Rökksgarde,the draugur had said, and Rey could not stop puzzling over the name. Surely it was a location, and one linked to Rökkur. Where was it? And who was calling the draugur there?
It was pointless asking questions when there were no answers to be found. But Rey knew sleep would not find him again, so he dressed and made his way to the fire where Hekla sat on watch.
“Sent your falcon yet, Galtung?” She watched him from across the fire, and Rey had the sense she was testing him—trying to determine his suitability as a partner for her friend. After all Silla had weathered, Rey was glad she had a friend like Hekla.
He glanced to the cart Horse had pulled from Kopa, falcons dozing in the cage within. He’d bribed Jarl Hakon’s falconer to borrow a dozen birds from the aviary. Had weathered endless teasing from those he rode beside. But Rey couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d promised Silla he’d write and had done so each morning. And though Rey had raised the homing flag on the caravan, he had yet to receive a reply.
She was busy, he told himself. Was likely exhausted. And besides,shehadn’t promised to write him back.
“Haven’t given Gunnar an answer yet?” Rey shot back at Hekla.
