What little control Rey had left snapped clean through at that. He drew back his fist and slammed it into the jarl-to-be’s pretty face once. Twice. It was long overdue, and for a moment, he relished the delayed justice.
But a choked sound from nearby had him dropping Atli to the ground. Rey turned and blinked. Silla had made it halfway across the hall, then stopped, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. The feast-goers whispered among themselves, all eyes on them. Games of combat were a common enough occurrence atruralfeasts. But this was Kopa, and Rey had just punched Jarl Hakon’s heir before the northern jarls Silla was trying to impress. His insides burned as he saw the embarrassment plain on her face.
She turned and fled the room.
“I cannot decide if you’re clever or a kunta, Atli,” murmured Kaeja.
Rey couldn’t bear to see Atli’s smug expression—couldn’t confirm that he’d just played right into Atli’s schemes. Gods, but he was a fool.
Rey shouldered through the crowd, cursing under his breath. He’d planned to be a pillar of silent support for Silla tonight. Instead, he’d as good as swung a greataxe right through their plans.
Rey jogged into the corridor, feet faltering as he passed a couple entwined in an alcove. They broke apart, torchlight illuminating Liv Eriksson’s flushed face, and a spill of black braids he recognized well.
“Runný?” Rey’s feet faltered as Runný whipped around, her eyes widening as they locked with his. She opened her mouth to say something, but Rey ran on, granting the women a few more moments of privacy.
He rounded a corner just in time to see the star-speckled train of Silla’s gown disappearing through a door midway down the hall. Rey reached the doorway quickly, yanking it open with too much force. It banged against the wall, echoing down the hallway. But as he stepped into the terraced courtyard, the violent thrashing of his heart eased just a touch.
Lunar-blooming plants glowed all around him, climbing up the volcanic black stone walls and spilling from barrels. Everywhere he looked, ethereal white flowers had unfurled, lifting to the moons. His chest constricted as he found Marra, already half full.
But then his gaze fell on the lone figure seated on an obsidian bench. Her gown pooled around her, suns and stars and moons glinting in the moonlight. Silla had kicked off her slippers and pulled her knees to her chest. Cautiously, Rey approached, ducking beneath an arch of wild brambles, hundreds of cup-shaped flowers illuminating it from within.
She turned her face toward him, resting her cheek on her knee. His tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth, uncertainty filling him.
“You don’t trust me,” she said.
A hot, panicky feeling grew inside him. “That’s not it—”
She sighed. “Don’t lie to me, Galtung. You’re worried I’ll leave you for Atli.”
Rey’s old instincts told him to flee, to deflect—anything to avoid talking about this. But he held himself in place and said, “You don’t know him like I do.”
“You’re right, I do not, Rey. Because you haven’t revealed a word about your history.” She tilted her head up and gazed at the stars. “It has not been easy for me here, Rey. I do not fit in—I was not raised like these people. Atli and Lady Tala, and perhaps Liv, are the only ones who’ve welcomed me—who’ve made me feel like I could belong. And now you—you’veembarrassedme, Rey.”
Shame stung his cheeks, but it didn’t stop him from voicing the thought that he’d been unable to shake for days. “Tell me he didn’t try anything when I was gone.”
She pushed to her feet, planting hands on her hips. “You sound like Jonas!”
Rey blinked in surprise.
“Did you know what he said to me on the Road of Bones? Jonas told me he didn’t want me to speak to you anymore!” Her voice was rising, echoing off the stone walls of the courtyard.
“I would never ask that of you, Silla,” Rey tried, his stomach wrenching at her unexpected ire. “Only that you are cautious around him.”
His words seemed to go right through her. She was pacing now. “You undid all the goodwill I’ve tried to cultivate with the northern jarls tonight. I told them of your honor and integrity and now”—she shrugged—“now I look like a horrible judge of character at best, a liar at worst.”
Glowering, Rey wiped a luminescent spore from his tunic. He felt just as he had all those years ago. Small and weak. An object of ridicule. “I don’t need their approval.”
Rey could not meet her burning gaze.
“We need unity, Rey. We need warriors to fight in the heartwood.”
“I did what you asked,” he said stubbornly. “I asked Atli for help. You see how well that went!”
“This is too important to risk on petty squabbles!” Silla shot back.
Rey glowered stubbornly at the wall behind her.
“I need you to trust me, Rey.”
