Atli gripped her elbow and hauled her to her feet. Silla’s gaze fell once more upon the patch and her heart leaped at the glint of blue minerals. Eagerly, she swept the rest of the snow free, revealing a swath of blue-veined stone.
“These are halda minerals, correct?” she asked excitedly, tracing the threads with her gloved hand.
Atli peered over her shoulder. “Aye. The deposits are plentiful in these parts.”
Silla chewed on her lip, choosing her next question carefully. “Do you use them? Halda stores, that is.” Atli, Silla had learned, was a Blade Breaker, while his brother Eyvind was an Ashbringer like her.
Atli tapped the bracers at his wrists. “I prefer to wear my stores. I know some Galdra have imbued halda into the hilts of their weapons.”
Silla took Atli’s hand, twisting it this way and that as she examined the finely wrought bracer strapped to his wrist. It seemed to be made of the same leather-like material as the lébrynja jacket Rey had gifted her, though carved with elaborate knotwork and adorned with gleaming blue stones.
“Rey has his tattooed.” At the pang of emotion in her chest, Silla quickly changed direction. “How do you pull your galdur from the bracers?”
“It’s hard to explain,” Atli said, squeezing her hand gently. She hadn’t realized her palm was still in his hand. Silla blinked and stepped carefully back. Had she imagined it, or was that disappointment in Atli’s expression? He cleared his throat. “It’s an intuitive thing,” he continued, “much like expression.”
Silla hummed in thought, then slowly pulled her glove off and dropped to her knees. Her bare fingers skimmed along the deep blue lines of the halda minerals, and her eyes fell shut as she searched for the quiet corner of her mind that she’d discovered in Kalasgarde. Myrkur shifted behind her rib cage, and anxiety spiked through her.She had to be quick—had to do this before He regained His strength. With a deep breath, Silla refocused.
Had it not been for all the hours she’d spent practicing expression and the weaving of her galdur, Silla might have discounted the small sensation beneath her palm. It was the feeling of potential—apromise of something thatcouldbe. Before she’d been forced to take hindrium doses to guard her Ashbringer power, Silla had felt something similar in the pool of galdur resting behind her breastbone. But while her source had always had a shape to it—a flavor, perhaps—what she felt in this stone was altogether different. It felt raw. A little wild, perhaps.
Beside her, Atli cleared his throat. “The halda must be ground into a powder for you to use, Eisa.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Please hush,” Silla said curtly, then sighed as the feel of the halda’s power slipped from her grasp. She pushed to her feet, then wandered toward the next patch.
“Will you tell me what you’re trying to accomplish?” Atli asked, rushing to keep up with her.
Silla pursed her lips and glanced his way. “I’m testing a theory,” she said in a low voice.
“That…halda stones are cold?”
Irritated, Silla dropped to her knees beside the next patch of halda stones. In this moment, she missed Rey more than ever, and wished she had someone in whom she could confide. Could she trust Atli? Silla glanced toward the guards and retinue warriors, then looked up at Atli’s curious face.Let us be friends, he’d said, and gods, but Silla could use one right now.
“I believe I can…sense the galdur inside these stones,” she said in a rush. At his blank expression, Silla continued. “No one understands the gift Sunnvald bestowed upon the Volsik bloodline, but twice now, I’ve experienced curious bursts of strength.”
“And you think—”
“I think I might have pulled galdur from halda minerals without realizing it.”
Atli’s brows rose in wonderment, but after a long moment, he dropped to his knees beside her and helped her swipe snow away. For the next hour, they traipsed about the meadow, Silla placing her hands on stone after stone. By the time her fingers were chilled to the bone, she knew beyond certainty that she could sensesomethingin those stones. But her attempts to pull the strange, untapped energy to herself had yielded nothing.
Eventually, she could sense nothing beyond the wind and how gods damned cold her fingers were. Atli wrapped his elegant cloak around her shoulders as Silla’s teeth chattered. It smelled like cedar and salt, and while it was nice, it wasn’thers.
The pair made their way back to Dawn, and as they began the ride down the mountain, she was glad beyond measure for Atli’s cloak. Beside her, Atli directed his warhorse along the trail, handling the hot-tempered beast with ease, while Eisa’s queensguard were split—half ahead and half behind her.
The trail zagging down Brími grew steeper with each pass. To her left were sheer stone cliffs, jutting toward the skies. To her right, the bluff plunged downward, dotted with black volcanic boulders. And at the very base of these bluffs was the city of Kopa.
“It’s stunning,” she said, examining the tiny black buildings, looking much like a toy town.
Atli looked over his shoulder, locking eyes with her. “Aye, ’tis a lovely view.” Sunlight caught on his onyx waves, casting shadows beneath his olive cheekbones, and for a moment, Silla thought he did not mean the city. But as soon as the thought had arrived it left, and Silla shook her head. Her emotions were all over the place today.
“I forgot to share,” said Atli, “that I’ve had word from Eyvind.”
Cold flooded Silla’s veins. “Oh?” she asked, her voice a little too high.
“Their group arrived in Istré, or what is left of it. They planned to enter the woods, oh, what would have been two days’ past.”
