“What has happened?”
She kept her face buried in his neck, unbothered, apparently, by the road’s grime on his skin.
“I’m so tired,” she murmured.
His hand slid up and down her back. “Then you must sleep.”
A thousand questions pricked his mind—about all that had happened in his absence—but Rey knew now was not the time to voice them.
They reached her chambers, and Rey cast Runný a look that had her whirling on the other guards. “Sweep the room and then get out.”
“But—” began the leader of Jarl Hakon’s appointed queensguard—Ingvarr, if Rey recalled correctly.
“Any intruder will have to get through me,” muttered Rey, sending the man a look that had him scurrying into the room.
At last, the guards waved them into the chambers and Rey carried a yawning Silla in. He laid her on the bed, smoothing her curls out behind her.
“I dreamed of you like this,” he whispered, but realized it was not quite how he’d imagined it. In his dream she’d not had dark circles beneath her eyes, nor such tightness at the corners of her mouth. She was beautiful all the same, and as her eyelids fluttered shut, Rey found himself reaching for a coil of hair. He pulled it taut. Let it spring back.
“Gods, I missed you,” he said.
“You’ve a strange way of showing it,” Silla mumbled.
Rey’s heart lurched. “What?”
But her breaths had grown rhythmic, her face so peaceful, and Rey knew she was now deep in the realm of sleep. He pulled off her slippers and stockings, then drew a blanket over her, examining her all the while for some clue to the meaning behind her words. There were none to be found.
“Sleep,” he said wearily, climbing onto the bed beside her. Rey slid his hand into hers and squeezed it tight. “I have you, Silla.”
Chapter 28
Silla dreamed of enormous trees; of tangled roots and pulsing heartbeats. She sensed each happening in the vastness of the woods; each gasping tree, each suffocating plant. The life force upon which she fed grew ever thinner, ever weaker, and so she unfurled more tendrils beneath the soil—sent them sprawling to join with plants beyond the borders of the woods.
With a satisfied sigh, she sipped from these new plants and used their energy to call to her children. Grimwolves and wolfspiders and bears gathered, each animal a vessel for her progeny. The humans, though, she did not summon. No. The humans were needed elsewhere. Hundreds—thousands—of beasts soon amassed around her, snarling and snuffling, hungering for the blood of her enemies.
Soon,she crooned in a feminine voice, pulling and twisting the threads of their will.Soon you will battle. Soon you will spill blood. And then, my children, you will feast.
Silla was filled with the sudden sense of being caught where she was not meant to be.
You!gasped the being, tearing her out like an errant weed. Silla’s vision wobbled for a moment, but as it steadied, she became aware of her surroundings. Before her, the vast, misshapen tree she was certain she’d just inhabited. And behind her—Silla gasped at the tree’s children. An army of red-eyed creatures, too many to count.
Get out!boomed Myrkur’s voice, deeper than the tree’s, and from everywhere at once.
Silla woke with the smell of mold in her nose and cold sweat slicked on her brow. Beside her, Rey slept on his stomach, a tattooed arm stretched toward her.
Stop meddling,came Myrkur’s whisper, drawing her mind back to that dream. Glowing red eyes and the monstrosity of a tree…and the god of chaos banishing her…The god’s anger was still palpable, thrumming through her veins, and Silla tried to understand. Had that truly been just a dream? Or had Myrkur inadvertently given her a glimpse of His plans?
You saw nothing I did not allow you to see,snapped Myrkur, His wingbeats fanning her anger higher.
Your irritation tells me otherwise,Silla replied in her mind. She rolled onto her back, then winced as her temples throbbed with the beginnings of a hangover. Despite this, she felt a surge of boldness.Why haven’t you taken my life yet, god?
The god did not answer, but darkness unspooled low in her stomach.
A life for a life,she taunted. Just take it.
I told you, Eisa, a life yielded is not what I want.
His cravings slid through her blood, filling her with the need for power—the need to make all others bend the knee. Visions blurred in her mind. A river of corpses. A throne of bones. Shadows wrapped around her like a cloak.
