The guard turns back toward the door.
“Fuck off, I’m coming.”
He leaves the door open and returns to his friends.
I finally release my breath. My vision was beginning to blur. I still have a distance to Sigurd’s chamber.
Time to move.
I push off the wall, creeping along its length. My eyes stay on the door, just in case the drunkard comes back. He’s too busy losing his wife’s savings.
The long shadows claw at me, hands reaching out. It’s where I want to be.
I arrive at the door. It isn’t locked. Such a trusting jarl. He should know better. I ease it open. Just enough to sneak through. It doesn’t even make a sound. Oiled and well-kept by one of the dutiful thralls.
Sigurd lies on the bed. He seems to be sleeping, slumped on his side and muttering unknown words. I must tread lightly,for Sigurd will wake easily. Not surprising considering his daughter’s early demise.
I hesitate for a second. Should I turn now? Going beyond this point is inexcusable. No explanation will be good enough. I could just return to Ari.
Fuck that. I won’t give him the pleasure. I’ll show him what I can do. Smug bastard. He will see.
I scan the room. Bare as it was last time. Like some slave quarters.
Such luck! The treasury door is ajar. Unlocked. I recall that it wasn’t locked when Sigurd asked me to inspect his items either. Sigurd truly feels safe in his own hall. If only he knew his guards were gambling instead of guarding.
I enter the jarl’s private space, keeping to the wall on the opposite side of the bed. Gritting my teeth, I glide where the shadows hang thickest. My shirt clings to my chest, drenched in sweat.
My heart skips a beat as the jarl mumbles.
“Thy… thyr…”
That, I recognize. His grief stabs me in the chest. His only daughter. Dead in the middle of the farm. A bloody mess. Poor Ragnhild… Her curse is seared in my mind. It’s wrapped around me like a blackened cloak. Her eyes haunt me.
Stay sharp. Focus. I control my breathing again. No time to get emotional.
I don’t even need to touch the door. I just slip inside.
A chilled vibration fills the room. Moonlight enters from a single wind-eye. There’s a table and a chest. I don’t need to search. My bounty lies before me.
Ari didn’t need to describe the ring. I knew which one it was as soon as he said it. Sigurd had mentioned that a southern queen had given it to him. No guessing needed. The ring lies next to the hammer. I pick it up.
No reaction. It’s just a fucking ring. The hammer, however… I can feel its hunger from here. But the ring? Just a silver band with a blue gem encased within it. It’s colder than I thought, but that’s about it. Where is the lightning? Raging thunder? Anything but this.
So small. So harmless.
Fucking ridiculous. Why would the Queen possibly need this back? Isn’t she rich? Isn’t she powerful? Doesn’t she have it all? Including my Ari?
Fucking bitch. I stuff the ring in my leather satchel.
A whisper enters my brain. My heart explodes in my chest.
You will rule.
What the fuck? My blood runs cold. Shivers run down my neck. Who is watching?
You will rule.
It’s soft. Not aggressive. It’s not like the witch doing her ritual through the hammer. It’s not a curse. It’s an invitation. A promise.
