Haldor nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.
“Riv, you know we love you, but you aren’t the friendliest chap around,” Odel said gently. “Can you think of anyone else who might want to sabotage you?”
I wanted to say no, of course there wasn’t. Viggo’s fireworks had made me suspicious at first, but Haldor had made it clear they were a fire demon thing. Besides, he’d easily won two trials back to back. Why would he bother trying to sabotage me? Until today, I hadn’t been much of a threat.
And why would anyone else in Wyndale be against me? It was a peaceful island village where nothing terrible happened. I’d spent so many years ensuring that was true, by doing whatever it took to keep the dangerout. None of Isveig’s murks or warriors had ever found us.
Until a few weeks ago.
Daella knew about the swords. She was the only person on this island who had ever laid eyes on them. She’d been rifling around in my desk drawers. I’d trusted her enough to show her the dragons, and I’d told her what I planned to ask the island if I won. Had she been pretending to soften toward me this entire time? Was this her move?
If she wanted to set me up to fail, she’d make it look like I was trying to take out my competition. And my biggest competition right now was…Viggo.
I closed my eyes, hating the words I couldn’t hold back. “I think I know where the swords are. We should check Viggo’s house.”
30
DAELLA
I’d lost sight of Rivelin in the chaos. The rough bark of the chair scraped my skin every time the villagers of Wyndale hoisted me higher in the air. A part of me wanted to relax and enjoy this unexpected celebration—were they that impressed by my mother’s cupcake recipe? But my focus was on Rivelin and our interrupted conversation.
Where was he? Had he gone after Gregor? And why did I have a sick feeling in the back of my throat?
The chair jolted as the procession finally returned to the stage, and the villagers lowered me to the ground. I smiled my best fake smile at all of them and thanked them for the honor. Elma was there, and so was Tilda in a bright sunny dress that matched her beaming smile, and Milka the dwarf baker, too. I still didn’t see Rivelin, or Odel, or Haldor anywhere.
I wandered through the crowd, searching for his silver hair. When I walked down the row of merchant stalls, I found Lilia leaning across her bar top and waving me over, her kind smile as bright as ever. But when she got a look at my face, the brightness dimmed.
“Everything all right, Daella?” She dragged a rag across the bar top, keeping an eye on me.
“I can’t find your brother anywhere. Have you seen him?”
“Sure have. He left with Odel and Haldor a few moments ago. Looked like they were heading toward the east side of the village.” Her hand slowed. “Has something happened?”
“No,” I said, then shook my head. “I don’t know.”
As I turned to go, she reached out and gently touched my arm. “Don’t let him push you away. He’s been better these days, with you around.”
“Better?”
“You know, with how closed off he is. He really struggles with the past—what the emperor’s mercenaries did, what he did in response. I think he’s been punishing himself for it all these years by hiding away from the world. But you’ve gotten him out of that damn house.” She smiled gently. “If he’s somehow messed things up between you two, just try and give him a chance to fix it, eh? I like you a lot. It’d be nice if you stayed.”
I smiled, but it felt strained. “Thanks, Lilia. I mean that. I just need to talk to him, that’s all.”
I accepted one of her offered tankards of sweet ale and then wound through the crowd to the other side of the meadow. It was quieter on the dirt path that cut into the village, and it would likely stay that way for a good long while. Today’s celebration seemed like it was only getting started.
Lilia had seen Rivelin and the others heading east, so I took the fork in the path that led to the cluster of homes on that side of the village. From up ahead came familiar voices. Rivelin was speaking urgently, though I couldn’t make out his words from this distance. I picked up my pace and turned to the corner to find him standing in the middle of the road with his missing swords scattered on the ground all around him.
I slowed to a stop. Odel caught sight of my movement and looked up with a fierce scowl, her pink wings twitching wildly. I’d never seen her look so angry. Haldor stood on Rivelin’s other side. He rubbed his chin, sighing with closed eyes.
“You.” Odel pointed a shaky finger at me. “You did this to Rivelin, didn’t you?”
All the blood drained from my face. “What?”
“That’s right.” Viggo emerged from the open door of a small timber home, where boxes of red roses decorated the two ground-floor windows. He glared in my direction. “I didn’t even know Rivelin had swords. There’s no logical reason to suspect me of stealing from him. It washer.”
For a moment, all I could do was stare at the four of them, trying to piece this together. The house must be Viggo’s. Odel and Haldor had found Rivelin’s swords inside. But instead of suspectinghe’dstolen them, they blamed…me?
“You think I stole Rivelin’s swords and planted them in Viggo’s house? But why would I do that? I’m on Rivelin’s side. I’m his assistant in the Games,” I told them, furrowing my brow. “I didn’t even know where Viggo lived until just now.”
