Ragnar tensed, then flung open the wagon door. He leapt outside, and I followed quickly behind him. A tall, handsome fire demon with dark hair that hung to his waist stood with a knife pointed right into Steffon’s frightened face. He wore a long coat and leather trousers and boots caked in mud. The way Ragnar was looking at him sent a spear of dread down my spine.
I pulled the tiny dagger out from my waistband.
“Lars,” he said, his voice hard. “What are you doing here?”
Lars.That name was familiar. I scanned my memories, searching for the source. And that was when I realized who this man was. The owner of Ragnar’s debt. The reason for all his turmoil and the hunt for good coin. But if he was here, then that meant…he’d followed Ragnar.
My blood went cold.
The island was meant to protect those of us who lived in the Isles. It prevented anyone from arriving here if they meant us harm. But Ragnar did not call this place home. He was just a visitor.
And it had not protected him. Was that why?
Lars folded his arms and looked Ragnar up and down. “I didn’t trust you not to run when you got the chance, and it looked like I was right. Instead of earning me my coin, you’re shacking up with this tavern wench.”
Ragnar let out a low growl, fisting his hands. “Say what you want about me, but keep Lilia’s name out of your mouth.”
Lars did not look impressed. “At least your ridiculous reaction tells me my accusations are right.”
“No, Lars. I did come here to earn you your coin.” Ragnar stalked toward him, the tension in his body practicing rolling off his body in waves. “And I don’t appreciate being spied on, least of all by you.”
Lars didn’t so much as blink. He motioned at the meadow and the small stalls being erected along the newly-made path. “As determined as these island folk are to make this festival a success, it’s clearly doomed. You’re wasting your time here.”
“I am not wasting my time,” Ragnar said in a low voice.
The fire demon sighed. “I tried giving you a chance to earn your coin the honest way, like you asked, but it’s time to join the guild, Ragnar. You can earn it the old-fashioned way, like your brother was meant to before he got himself killed with his own damn dagger. Then and only then will you be free to go.”
The old-fashioned way.My heart squeezed. Ragnar hadn’t gone into detail about his brother’s debt, but Lars had said enough for me to read between the lines. Ragnar’s brother must have been in the Mercenaries Guild. The coin they earned came in only one way, and it was not by selling ale or painting old wagons. It wasn’t even by stealing coins out of rich nobles’ pockets. At times, they’d even taken jobs from Isveig himself.
As a former warrior and then a member of the rebels, Ragnar would make an incredible addition to their guild. And this man knew it.
I released a slow, shuddering breath and tightened the grip on my dagger. Lars wore a mask of indifference, but tension tightened every muscle in his body, particularly around his jaw. He’d let Ragnar come here to try to earn some coin, but he’d never wanted him to be successful at it.
He’d wanted Ragnar to fail.
“You,” I whispered.
Ragnar glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. “Do you know this man?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know him, but I feel as if I should. Because he’s the one who set fire to our festival. He tried to sabotage you, so that you’d be forced to return to the mainland and work for him.”
The fire demon tensed, then drew himself up tall. Ragnar swung back around to face him.
“Is this true?” Ragnar asked in a voice that was barely restrained.
“The tavern wench is upset you’re leaving her in this mud-hole of a festival. She’d say anything to get you to stay.”
“I told you.” Ragnar grabbed the front of the demon’s coat and hauled him closer. “You will not say a damn word about her.”
“Or what?” Lars asked in a sneer. “You’ll want to kill me? Go on then. Channel that rage and join our ranks.” His lips twisted into a cruel smile. “And if you don’t, I’ll burn this festival down again and add Lilia to our list of targets.”
I rushed toward him, wielding my weapon, even though I had no idea how to fight.
A bellow sounded from the sky. Plumes of smoke billowed toward us. Reykur twisted through the air, leaving streaks of fire behind him. A square, silver contraption hung from his talons.
“Is that a cage?” asked Ragnar.
Lars saw the opportunity for what it was and twisted out of Ragnar’s grip. He shot me a furious look, then took off across the meadow, his long cloak billowing behind him.
