With one last snarl, Enidwen sinks back into the shadows of my psyche.
Odgar calls to Valdis and rattles off something in rapid Uldaran. She responds affirmatively as Odgar wraps his arms tighter around me.
“I’m going to lift you now,” he says. “Close your eyes. I’ve got you.” He scoops me into his arms, and I do as he says.
An odd, rocking movement churns my stomach when my eyes fly open again. Heavy awareness falls on me, fatigue sinking into my flesh. We’re in the middle of a fjord, mountains and land blanketed in white all around us. What appears to be a strip of land is a small distance ahead of us.
“Don’t panic,” Odgar says as I glance down and realize that we’re in a small rowboat. My back is against Odgar’s chest, his legs stretched out on either side of my body.
I lurch upright, my knuckles white on the edges of the vessel as I hang on for my life.
“I saiddon’tpanic, huntress. Deep breaths.”
The first breath feels like inhaling through a straw. But slowly, my respirations stop coming in short bursts. “Where are we going?” My voice comes out hoarse and fractured. My eyes feel feverish. Slowly, I shift so that I’m facing him.
“A short way from here,” he says. Every now and then his hands move as if pushing back some invisible force. There are no oars in sight, but the boat is propelled forward without stopping.
By Odgar’s waterweaving.
It’s fascinating, but I find great difficulty in meeting his steady gaze. Unspoken questions expand between us until we’re near a small inland isle and Odgar steps out of the boat. He pulls it ashore and anchors it with rope tied to a wooden post. I slip my hand into his as he reaches for me, and he tugs me onto the land. My legs wobble as though I’m still on the boat.
My body feels both heavy and light at once, everything fading away until Odgar’s distant voice pulls me back to the present. The whisper of the wind along with the occasional crunch of Odgar’s boots in the frozen grass are the only sounds as he walks away. I watch his broad back, the battle-axe strapped to it glinting orange as the sun sets. My hands no longer bear the telltale black veins of Enidwen’s curse, but they shake with such fervor that I have to clasp them together.
Enidwen’s voice in my head is quiet, but that dark flame within my core continues to waver.
Waiting.
My stomach sinks. My lower lip quivers, but I clamp my jaw until my teeth ache. I will not cry.
“Are you coming?” Odgar tosses over his shoulder. His voice sounds warped and far away, but I cling to it.
I don’t respond, though I hurry to catch up with his long strides. The island is dense with shrubbery but sparse on trees. A small, rocky hollow lies ahead, the clearing in front of it glowing red as the sun continues to sink.
“I used to run away a lot as a child,” Odgar says quietly. “Never felt like I belonged. I had this ability to bend water—something that people claimed was a blessing. The weight on my shoulders was so heavy sometimes. Either I was expected to be a savior or someone’s worst nightmare. Often it was the latter, thanks to the role my father gave me.” His pause is heavy.
“My illegitimacy is obvious.” He lifts his hand, displaying the back of his palm and pointing out his coppery brown complexion. “I don’t have the same mother as Freyr and Valdis, obviously. My mother was a foreigner—outcasted by most Uldarans, naturally. Thank the gods my powers made people too afraid to challenge me. Especially given my reputation and my role I was forced to take on. Especially when my father so publicly declared me his son. When he died, my brother took the throne with a public declaration that I was still the legitimate heir. After Valdis, of course. He relieved me of the role I hated. A life I never wanted. He gave me a fresh start.”
His words flow over me, so different yet so oddly familiar to my own plights.
“To never feel like you belong in your own homeland is hard. To feel estranged in your own body must be harder.”
I gaze up into his eyes, realizing that he’s talking about me. I swallow as my heart cracks, only to immediately fuse. I’ve been broken enough times; it won’t happen again.
“I’ve felt like that even before the—” I pause, hesitating. But what am I afraid of? He’s seen me overcome with Enidwen’s vengeful spirit. “Before the curse awoke within me.”
Deep lines form on his forehead, but he doesn’t step back from me at the mention of the curse.
From above, white flecks float down through the air. The first speck lands on my face, chilling me. We both glance up at the dark sky as snow begins to fall. “Welcome to summer inUldarvik,” he says with a smile. He extends his hand to me, an encouraging look on his face.
He leads me a few steps forward, and we duck our heads to enter the dark, rocky hollow, the vivid moon providing just enough light. It’s just large enough to fit both of us. I sit and pull my legs to my chest, tucking my feet underneath my dress. Odgar sidles close to me and loops his arm around my back.
“Tell me about the curse.”
When my body tenses, he gives me a comforting squeeze. I close my eyes and try to focus on everything else outside of my fears. “About a millennia ago, a Dark Mage named Enidwen tore open the Veil and unleashed the Underling Prince. His spirit was too strong and overtook hers. Unfortunately for them, her soul and the prince’s soul were said to be banished from our realm. The truth is that whilehiswas banished, hers latched on to one of my ancestors. Since then, her spirit has been reborn through the generations, remaining dormant until … me.”
Odgar sucks in a breath, then blows it out on a slow, descending whistle.
Gnawing on my inner cheek, I let the words settle around us. I keep my face forward, not wanting to see his reaction.
