As slowly as she could, Saga lifted the basket and departed the room. The shouts from above sent her heart racing, but Saga kept her panic at bay by counting each step she climbed.
A thunderous boom shook the fortress walls, startling Saga so badly she nearly missed a stair. It was utter mayhem above. Footfalls pounded on timber, warriors shouting in rapid Zagadkian. Saga understood enough to know the inner river gate was on fire. Fear twisted her stomach in knots, and she held on to the wall for support as she labored for breath. The telltale signs of her panic were creeping up, but Saga couldn’t let it grab hold of her now.
Lives counted on it.
She focused on one step at a time, until she reached the doorway to the defensive walls. With a deep breath, Saga pushed through it.
Her feet faltered, heart racing ever faster, but she recognized the high prince’s right hand man Kresimir and made her way toward him. After Saga explained the contents of the basket, Kresimir raced off to deliver them to the city gates. With a reassuring glance over her shoulder to confirm that the keep’s door was just a fewsteps away, Saga strode to the nearest turret. She gazed over the city toward the defensive walls. Was Kassandr atop those walls, overseeing their defenses? Or had he jumped into the battle teeming on the plains? Worry twisted in her gut.
Saga’s gaze drifted to the inner river gate, and as she took in the blazing inferno, her breaths shallowed. Her fingers tapped against the turret’s wooden walls as she surveyed the Urkan fleet, now retreated to a safe distance. Once the fleet breached those gates, they’d have access to the whole city of Kovograd.
Saga stared at the largest warship, cold slivers lodging in her spine. Ivar Ironheart was on that ship, orchestrating the deaths of these innocent Zagadkians. He would kill them all, then drag Saga back to Íseldur—back to Signe.
Punished,echoed Magnus’s voice, ravens screaming overhead. Saga’s fingers tapped feverishly as she tried to calm her racing heart. But a new, terrifying voice met her ears.
“You should not be here,” said Oleg in slow, measured Zagadkian.
Saga whirled to find Kassandr’s half brother, thick arms folded over his chest. Tension corded Oleg’s neck, his eyes flickering a lupine yellow as he turned to look at her. Before she could react, his retinue strode into the turret, blocking her exit. Her arms were seized and Saga was dragged toward Oleg.
Lights danced in her vision as she struggled for breath. Trapped. No exits.
“Tell me why I should not throw you from these walls,” came Oleg’s far-off voice.
Saga’s fingers found her palms, and she focused on the feel of them tapping gently. Once. Twice. Three times. Saga drew in a breath. Forced words from her lips. “I am…no enemy,” she managed in stunted Zagadkian.
Oleg seized her collar and shoved her against the timber walls. In the courtyard below, Zagadkian soldiers rushed about, the chaos too great for them to notice her plight.
“You have damned us all!” shouted Oleg, lifting her higher andshoving her backward along the gap between turret wall and roof. The blunt wooden planks scraped along her back as Oleg shoved her farther. Above her were open skies, below her, the courtyard.
Saga couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. But rather than the paralysis her panic often brought, Saga was now filled with savage energy. She’d survived the sacking of Askaborg by the Urkans. Had survived Magnus branding her in those stables. Saga had survived Oleg’s cowardly attempt to have her killed once already. She would not go like this—not at this man’s hands. She screamed and kicked, fought like a wild creature.
“Oleg!” roared a new voice—a voice Saga had not anticipated. “You will put our guest down.” She was lowered onto her feet, knees buckling and sending her to the turret floor. She closed her eyes. Drew in deep breath after deep breath. Tapped her fingers in a frantic rhythm. Saga wasn’t certain how long her panic gripped her, only that when she finally opened her eyes, the world swayed—and she found the high prince crouched before her.
When last she’d seen him, he’d been clad in fussy, ceremonial robes. Now he wore the same pleated, leatherlike surcoat as the rest of his Zagadkian warriors.
“Tell me,” said the high prince slowly. His green eyes were filled with fear and remorse. “Tell me everything you know about our enemy. I’m ready to listen.”
Chapter 30
Kopa, Íseldur
Silla had faced many new changes since her arrival at Kopa, but she wasn’t certain she’d ever adjust to the relentless fussing over her appearance.
Oh, stop it,she wanted to say as Hild repositioned a particular pin for at least the third time. But though Silla doubted an errant braid would cost her the northern jarls’ swords, she recognized that the girl was only doing her job. And there was something to be said for those who gave it their very best effort.
So Silla smothered a yawn and let her thoughts drift to the night ahead. Herdebut,Jarl Hakon had called it. Eisa Volsik would be officially presented to the most powerful families of the north. She’d been preparing for this night for weeks, a fact that had her nerves on end.
It is an opportunity for us to amass power,purred Myrkur.
Why do you even want that?she demanded, against her better judgment.
I do so love to play, whispered the god, sending a shiver through Silla. She focused on the moons stitched into the cuffs of her gown, trying to shut Him out.
These jarls will come to our cause, or we will bend them to it.
With an irritated huff, Silla closed her eyes. She thought of dimples; a broken desk; the fact that Rey was back in Kopa. Myrkurhissed, His grip on her relenting. But she knew He was only biding His time.
The dismayed cries of her queensguard signaled Rey’s arrival. As the door swung open, Ingvarr’s plaintive voice reached Silla’s ears.
