“And Kari?”
“She’s got a broken nose, but she’ll be all right.”
“Good.” I started to move away.
Lilia called after me, “Don’t do anything foolish, Rivelin.”
I just grunted and kept walking through the square. The cheerful paper streamers and flowers only dampened my mood even further, particularly when I found Odel and Haldor covertly perched on some crates in an alley just beyond the square, whispering excitedly like the day had borne some drama-filled gossip.
I scowled as I approached them. “Enjoying this, are we? Maybe we should change the rules and allow assault during every Midsummer Games.”
Odel fell silent and gave me a frank look. “Kari has a busted nose, but she’s fine.”
“Gregor attacked her. He needs to be disqualified from the Games, and then kicked off Hearthaven.”
“Well.” Haldor sucked on his teeth for a moment, squinting up at the sky. “Problem is, Kari went for him first, and you know the rules. Technically, she’s in the wrong here. She’s withdrawn from the competition.”
“You must be joking,” I said flatly.
“Rules are rules, Riv,” Odel sighed. “If we bend them for this, you know that’ll mean others start pushing the boundaries of what they can and can’t do.”
“Someone is already pushing the boundaries. And if we let him get away with it, he’ll do something else. Something that could get someone actually killed. And next time, we might not have an orc willing to jump into a literal lake of fire—as far as she’s concerned—in order to stop it.”
“How is Daella, anyway?” she asked, her voice going soft.
“In a lot of fucking pain.”
“Thank her for us, will you?” Haldor cut in. “That took a lot of moxie.”
“And compassion,” Odel added. “Think we might have been wrong about her?”
I thought back to what she’d told me about her captivity and what Isveig had put in her hip. But I also remembered the hatred in her voice when she’d spoken of dragons. “Perhaps.”
“I suppose this won’t have endeared her to us much,” she said, furrowing her brow. “Can you manage to turn it around? You two looked pretty cozy on that raft. The plan to charm her must be coming along well.”
“I’m not having this conversation. I came here to ask you about Gregor. Where is he?”
They exchanged a glance. Haldor rubbed the base of his horns. “He vanished after the challenge. No one knows where he’s gone, not even his mother. At least, that’s what she says. Could be lying.”
“You tell her I’m looking for him. Tell everyone you see.”
“Don’t do anything foolish, Rivelin,” Odel said, edging closer with a frown. “I know you’re angry, but he technically hasn’t done anything wrong. You can’t touch him.”
I narrowed my gaze at her. “Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”
“Your anger has a short fuse and you have a violent past. We all know that.”
“I’ve never lifted a finger against anyone on this island.”
“And let’s keep it that way, eh?” Haldor clapped my back.
I shook my head at the both of them, shrugged his hand off my shoulder, and left them to their gossip. I shouldn’t get so irritated. They only wanted to keep the peace, like all of us did. That was why we had our rules in the first place, and no need for a prison. Everyone yearned to keep our safe haven the way it was: a calm oasis tucked away from the brutal realities of the Grundstoff Empire. A place where there was no fighting, no bloodshed, no crime and punishment and all the dirty work that went with it. And most of the time, it was exactly that.
On my way back home, I stopped by the apothecary to pick up some more salt, noting the evening chill now that the sun had crept behind Mount Forge in the distance. The sky was streaked with periwinkle blues and crimson reds, and most of the village would be watching from the square.
Back home, Daella was curled up in the armchair with Skoll pacing beside her. Her face was still red, but her eyes were a little brighter now. As I approached, she pushed up from the chair, grimacing.
I held up the bag of salt. “Got your medicine.”
