Breathe, child—one more.A feminine, husky voice whispers in her ear. She pauses with her hand wrapped around the handle, recalling the same presence from when she found the Ridge stone.
Goddess Maeve?Avina hesitantly asks in her mind.
Yes, my dear. The Briny God has his fun. Let us enjoy ours.
Avina grins, returning to the starting position. For a third time, her axe strikes true.
“There is no way you have accomplished that hit three times.” He stomps to the throwing line, growling as he lines up his final shot.He throws his axe hard, knocking the target off the stand until it skids to a stop several strides away. “Fuck.”
He and Avina run to the target to find his axe embedded in the wood—the blade barely outside the bullseye.
“Fuck!” Sigvid grumps.
Avina cannot believe she beat him at axe throwing. Well, she did not truly defeat him. Maeve took a moment to guide Avina’s hand for a bit of delight.
She dances around him, taunting his loss. “I achieved victory against the great Prince Sigvid! The greatest, most feared warrior in all of Treland.” She teases.
Sigvid yanks her close with a twisting grin. “What did you do to defeat me?”
Her heart pounds at how close his hungry lips hover over hers. She can taste his breath on her tongue. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Lord Commander?”
They both separate in time to find Helga at their target range. Her eyes are baggy, and her cheeks hollow from stress and malnutrition. Avina felt little pity for the woman selling their secrets to Thrain, regardless of Sigvid’s attempts at reassurance.
Helga’s hands remain clasped together, and her eyes twitch anxiously. “My Lord, I must speak with you.”
“Come.” Sigvid pulls Avina closer to the inn's wall and waves Helga to join them away from the other sets of throwers.
“She can hear anything you need to say,” he nods toward Avina. “What is it, Helga? Are they safe?”
Helga glances suspiciously at Avina as she speaks. “I just received word that your contingency of Drengr arrived in Sjoby with Frida and Thora. They reinforced the garrison at the village and await your command, my lord.”
Avina interrupts with a shake of her head, “Is something happening?”
She spent every moment of the last week imploring Sigvid to accept that Helga is Thrain’s spy, but he wouldn’t believe her! Now, he has entrusted her with the safety of Frida and Thora—the two peopleThrain is using against Avina!
“Helga has been my spy for the last couple of winters. I would trust her with my life.” Sigvid sets his hand on Avina’s shoulder.
How could the woman I caught straddling Thrain like a horse have Sigvid’s best interest at heart?
“This is a relief, Helga. I want to know if anyone so much as walks past the village.”
“There is something else.” She glances over her shoulders, her fingers nervously plucking at her cloak. “Thrain is planning the arrival of an important guest. He refuses to share their identity with anyone, but I think it may be a high-ranking noble from Timber or the Ridge. They are due to arrive any moment.”
“Then it is time. Alert Kar and Slode. They should begin mobilizing the Drengr. We plan to strike as soon as he reveals this guest.” Sigvid rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck.
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Thank you, Helga. Here,” he drops a handful of coins into her hand, “I command you get food and drink.” He strokes his beard thoughtfully as she slips away into the crowd of revelers.
Avina’s mind spins on its axis. Nothing Helga says can be true. He must recognize that! Especially since she has a sneaking suspicion of the identity of this high-ranking Ridge noble.
“That woman is Thrain’s favorite bedfellow. How can you possibly listen to anything she says?” Her eyes burn thinking of all her loved ones that horrible bastard threatened.
“Avina, I need you to trust me on this.”
“If she is so trusted, why did she not inform you about Thrain?”
