“I don’t use them, nor do I announce their presence. They’re supposed to be safely hidden away in my closet.”
“There’s no lock on the door,” I pointed out.
“I don’t normally have intruders poking around my shop.”
“I’m offended. I’m not an intruder. I’m a...”
He raised his brow, waiting for the rest of my sentence. Truthfully, I kind of was an intruder, at least to the island at large. I’d been sent here by the enemy emperor to find some people to capture. Maybe not this specific island, but close enough. And I had every intention to keep up my end of the bargain if we didn’t win these Games. Because if I didn’t, I’d never go free.
So Rivelin did have a point.
I decided to change the direction of the conversation. “These aren’t just any swords. The craftsmanship is incredible. The pommel here—is that a dain?”
“I’m surprised you know of dains.”
“I came across some in a forest once when I was...anyway, it is a remarkable resemblance.”
Dain were deer who feasted on a particular type of plant only found in the deepest parts of the forests of Edda. They had elven features with their sharply pointed ears and long lives. Some said they were somehow distantly related, though I’d always thought that story was more myth than truth. Perhaps I’d been wrong.
Rivelin gave me a long, lingering look before he replied. “Thank you, I think. I spent a long time on that one.”
“It looks like you spent ages on all of them. How did you learn to do all this?”
A shutter went over his eyes. “My parents.”
“Are they here on the islands, too, like your sister?”
“No, not here,” he said, his voice clipped. “They’re dead. The emperor’s murks killed them.”
Oh.
I stared at him, my heart thundering, unable to find the right words. I should have known as much with the way Rivelin spoke about Isveig and his mercenaries. His feelings toward the emperor went far deeper than mere dislike. He held a grudge. A big one. And I understood far better than I could ever explain.
Isveig had killed a lot of people. And if he hadn’t done the deed himself, his warriors, his guards, and his mercenaries had done it for him.Ihad done it for him. Regret wound through me.
Rivelin grabbed a leather satchel from the table beside his anvil and made for the shop’s front door.
“Where are you going?” I asked, my voice hoarse from the conflicting emotions pumping through me.
“Out,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Don’t follow me.”
I frowned. “Don’t we need to work on the boat? The first trial starts tomorrow, doesn’t it?”
“We’ll work on it later. I need some space.” He reached the door and shoved it open.
“Rivelin, wait,” I felt compelled to say, though I didn’t know why. The scent of dragon made it clear he was my enemy. I shouldn’t feel so eager to smooth things over, and yet, the words had come of their own accord.
He paused, one hand on the door. “Close the closet and don’t touch anything in there. I’ll know if you do.”
And then he was gone.
13
DAELLA
When Rivelin returned, he reeked of dragon. I’d spent a good twelve hours in his back garden assembling the boat, with rivulets of sweat trailing down the back of my neck. Skoll had sat with me for a time as if observing my work, occasionally growling his approval. It had taken the entirety of the day, but eventually I finished the boat as best I could. My hands looked like they’d gotten into a fight with a cat, and my muscles ached, but I felt damn good. Useful and tired in the best kind of way—like I’d earned the cup of tea that now steamed in my hands. Funny thing about orcs, fresh water burned our skin, but we could drink it easily enough.
And so I’d helped myself to Rivelin’s herbal tea bags, choosing a chamomile and lavender mix, and then settled into the armchair in the living room while Skoll curled up on the rug beside me. The second I’d tucked my feet beneath me, the front door flung wide open and the elf charged in like he was itching for a fight.
