“For someone who just got chosen to participate in the Games, you seem pretty underwhelmed. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were annoyed.”
“I don’t like these ceremonies or big groups of people.”
“I see. Is there anything you do like?”
“What?”
I sighed. “A lot of things annoy you. So whatdoyou like?”
He reached down to his side, where Skoll eagerly accepted his pat on the head. “I like Skoll, and I like forging steel. And I like my sister. That’s about it.”
“That’s really it?” I almost felt sorry for him. “This world is full of beautiful things.”
“I’m not entirely sure I agree, so I’ll stick with my three.”
“You can like whatever you want. It’s just a shame.” I shrugged. “But the scents of this place…the baking bread that curls around you like a hug. The blooming flowers and the fresh grass. The birdsong and the laughter of children that fills the air. The soothing warmth of the sun on your face. All of it just reminds me I’m alive. And I will relish that. We’re lucky to experience any of this. Life is a gift far greater than anything your island could give us.”
I felt his eyes on me, and a moment passed.
“You’re pretty poetic, for a murk,” he said.
I sighed. “I told you, I’m not a—”
“Rivelin!” a woman called out.
A bright-eyed, silver-haired elf bustled toward us, dragging a massive wagon behind her, its tires churning through the soft dirt. She looked so much like her brother, tall and clear skinned and achingly beautiful. But where he wore a frown like it was permanently carved into his face, her smile was like a new summer’s day.
A pair of brown trousers hugged her curvy frame, and she wore a pair of sturdy leather boots. She’d have to, dragging that wagon behind her. It was as large as a cottage. I had to admit, I was impressed by her strength.
At the sight of her, Rivelin visibly brightened for the first time since I’d met him. Smiling, he opened his arms as the elven woman dropped the wagon yoke and rushed toward him. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in for a hug, but when her eyes caught sight of me, she stopped and swatted at his arm.
I braced myself for her reaction. Just like everyone else in this village, she’d know who I was and where I came from. Even without Isveig’s sigil, I stood out in a world where half-orcs were a rarity. Her eyes flicked up and down, but then she held out a hand and smiled.
“Hello. I’m Rivelin’s sister, Lilia. Are you…” She slid her gaze sideways at her brother with merriment dancing in her eyes. “Well, I don’t know how else to put this. Are you his lady friend?”
“No,” he cut in with a frown. “This is Daella Sigursdottir.”
I braced myself. If she hadn’t known who I was before, she did now.
“Lovely name,” she said in a singsong voice. “For a lovely orc. I’d say it’s a shame my brother isn’t courting you, but it’s probably for the best. He can be a bit of a grump.”
The corners of my lips twitched. “Only a bit?”
She laughed and elbowed Rivelin’s side. “I keep thinking he’ll cheer up if he meets someone. You sure you aren’t interested? He—”
“Lilia,” Rivelin said.
“Oh, come on. Don’t frown at me like that. I’m just trying to look out for you.” She glanced up at the ash on his forehead, her eyes widening. “You finally got chosen for the Games.”
“And it’s about fucking time.”
“Gregor?”
His eyes darkened. “You were right. He’s in it again.”
“Hehasto be cheating. No one else has ever been chosen more than once.”
“How? He has no Fildur sand to fake the flames. I checked.”
