Hekla’s amber eyes met hers, lit with determination. “We must seek the mist’s origin, somewhere deep in the Western Woods. And then we must destroy it.”
“Well, what do you ask of us?” demanded Jarl Hakon.
“More men,” said Hekla simply. “More resources.” She folded her arms, waiting expectantly.
“The bulk of my warriors are busy quelling the violence on theeastern borders,” said Hakon. “I do not have the resources to send more warriors to Istré.” Hakon grew eerily still before turning to Rey.
Silla’s heart stuttered as time seemed to slow. And she knew what the jarl would say before the words left his mouth.Not him!she wanted to scream. Anyone but him. But she knew how badly Rey wanted to complete this job. Knew how he’d worried for the Bloodaxe Crew during those long weeks in Kalasgarde.
“This was your job, Galtung,” said Jarl Hakon. “It is time for you to see it through.”
Chapter 2
Kovograd, capital of Zagadka
Saga Volsik’s charcoal stick smudged shadows into the shallow cleft of the man’s chin. The relaxing effects of drawing were in full effect—her insides were warm and calm, and she could almost forget that she’d been stolen and locked away in this drafty room in Kovograd Fortress for the past two weeks.
Saga paused, then held her drawing board at an arm’s length to examine the portrait. Kassandr Rurik’s bold brows were arched, the corners of his lips curved up in mischief. And those eyes seemed to burn at her from the vellum.
“It will do,” Saga murmured to herself. She stood from the wooden, fur-draped bench, then made her way to a bare patch of wall where a tapestry had once hung on the lone nail. The beams and wooden trim in her room were intricately painted in vivid red bird and floral motifs—a sight that might cheer some, but only reminded Saga how far from home she was. Frowning at the thought, she pushed the vellum onto the nail.
After retreating several paces, Saga examined her drawing from afar. Pride gathered in her stomach as she realized how well she’d captured Kassandr’s likeness. Saga reached down her bodice and retrieved the dining knife she’d stolen several meals past.
Holding the handle between her thumb and forefinger, Sagadrew her arm back, then flicked it forward. The knife sailed through the air, landing with a dull thud a good foot wide of Kassandr’s face.
With an exasperated sigh, she fetched the knife and returned to her place to try again. Again and again, Saga threw her knife at the vile man before her. The man who had stolen her away and kept her locked in a room “for her safety.” The man who was, as it turned out, the Beast of Zagadka—a monstrous creature with a penchant for tearing out throats. Saga hated that the part that hurt worst was Rurik’s betrayal of her trust.
For a moment in time, she’d thought she had someone who cared for her. Someone she could rely on. But Rurik had only used her trust against her. And now she was caged away yet again, this time in a frightening foreign land. Saga had reexamined her every interaction with Rurik time and time again, searching for the signs she’d missed—some hint at his treachery—but each time, she came up empty.
Now she scowled at the drawing of Rurik, gripping her stolen knife as she imagined the man standing there in the flesh.
“I hate you!” she hissed, then let the knife fly. This time, the dagger landed in the very center of Kassandr Rurik’s left eye. Saga’s lips spread into a smile, and she sauntered to the drawing before tearing it free. Her face fell. “You deserve worse.”
She crumpled the drawing, then tossed it into the hearthfire. With a sigh, Saga flopped onto the bench before it and watched the vellum curl and blacken. Drawing Rurik’s likeness and using it for target practice had become a morning routine for her. Though her knife skills hadn’t improved much, her moods certainly had.
Saga knew she was imprisoned in Kovograd Fortress, a stronghold nestled in the center of Kovograd city. But aside from that, she knew little about the fortress itself and even less about the Kingdom of Zagadka.
She gazed about her room in frustration. Her chambers were no smaller than they’d been in Askaborg, yet everything about them was different. For one thing, this entire gods-forsaken fortress was made of timber, which lent the place a rather musty smell. Thebeams groaned at night, and there was a constant draft flowing through the space.
Saga supposed the room would be a comfort to most. The bed was large and heaped with furs and blankets. The hearth provided warmth, and she had a handmaiden who replenished the wood. And there was an enormous bookshelf on the far end of the room, filled with tomes. In the days since her arrival, Saga had flipped through them all, examining the strange drawings of animal shifters and seasonal gods, of monsters she’d never seen before, and, most curious of all, winged horses. If only she could read Zagadkian and understand the words written in the books, perhaps she wouldn’t be so gods damned bored.
Leaning back on the bench, Saga closed her eyes and retreated into the safety of her mind—the place where she’d last spoken to her sister.
Eisa!she called out. But as it had been since she set foot on this isle, Saga’s mind was still and dark. Where had Eisa gone? Saga worried her bottom lip, thinking of her sister buried under a mountain of snow. It was impossible to keep the question from pushing forth—what if Eisa hadn’t made it out of the avalanche?
“I must get back to Íseldur,” Saga said to the hearthfire. Her mind raced for a plan, but it was impossible. She was thousands of miles from home, utterly cut off. There were no allies for her here. No one to help her escape. No way to get to her sister. Saga pushed against the hopelessness building inside her.
In addition to Eisa, she wondered why she could not feel that strange creature deep in her chest—the one that had pulled her darkest wants to the surface and caused that explosion in Askaborg’s great hall. But after two weeks with no sign of it, she wondered if it had all been a conjuring of her mind.
It made no sense. Saga was certain she’d felt traces of the new power Eisa had helped her awaken while aboard Rurik’s boat, but everything had grown more and more muted as they neared Zagadka’s shores. And since she’d set foot on Zagadkian soil, there was no trace of it at all. Worse than that, she’d discovered she could not useher Sense to listen in on anyone’s thoughts. It was as though even her galdur had abandoned her in these foreign lands.
Saga found herself longing for the dark creature—longing for the power it had granted her, if only for a moment. Perhaps together, they’d be able to free her from this place…
“Stop,” she told herself, Yrsa’s brown eyes filling her mind’s eye. She grieved for Yrsa, who’d died that day in the great hall. Logic told Saga it had been that dark creature that had caused the explosion, yet she could not forget the hunger she’d felt to make the whole room suffer.That,she knew, had been entirely her.
She pressed a hand to her stomach to quell her nausea, and pulled a fur around her shoulders. Saga felt the faint stirrings of another crisis building within. “You’re safe,” she reminded herself. “Magnus is dead. He cannot harm you.”
But she’d been in this strange place for two weeks, and there was no way out. No exit. Gone were all of Saga’s comforts; gone was the advantage she’d held in Askaborg—knowledge of the sprawl of tunnels beneath the castle. The hand of panic squeezed, sending Saga’s heart skittering.
