I’d never done anything to deserve my curse. It was high time I broke free.
But all those thoughts quickly deflated. I had the worst odds of anyone out here. Astrid Balstad would not be winning any trials, let alone enough of them to get the Everstone. I’d have to watch someone else take it, along with any hope I ever had of seeing the glorious sunrise over the mountain peaks.
6
ASTRID
Jostein held up his hands, quieting the roaring crowd. The hush that followed was pregnant, heavy, and somehow louder than the cheers.
“Now that you know what’s at stake, we shall begin,” Jostein intoned, looking at each contestant in turn, his eyes alight with excitement, “I hope to see some good efforts today. Stand beside your stones and prepare yourselves. When the dwarven bell tolls, race your bloody hearts out.”
Pulling a deep breath into my lungs, I bent my knees and placed my trembling hands on my stone. All around me, the other contestants did the same. A long stretch of silence followed, tension building like a powerful drumbeat. And then the bell tolled.
An explosion of grunts followed as the contestants heaved the rocks into their arms and began stumbling forward across the sandy ground. I, on the other hand, took a different approach. I’d already determined there was no way in fate’s name I could carry the damn thing. Instead, I clenched my teethand shoved it a little. Might as well appear as if I were trying, at least until the others crossed the finish line.
The rock inched forward in a slight roll.
My breath puffed from my lungs, and I shoved again. Once more, the rock rolled a little closer toward the finish line. Not thatclosewas a good descriptor. I was still yards away.
I pushed again. And again. My arms ached from the effort, though I was using the strength in my legs to do most of the work. After a good ten rolls, sweat glistened on my brow, and I glanced up to see I’d made it a quarter of the way across the arena.
Huh.
Many of the other contestants were already halfway by now, but a few were behind me, surprisingly enough. Galinn and Tormund were only steps from the finish line, neck and neck. The crowd’s cheers were thunderous. Everyone was on their feet, stomping and screaming and waving banners in the air, the colors signifying who they supported. I was green and gold. To my surprise, I spotted a few here and there.
I shoved the stone again with a bit more effort than before. It rolled forward, tumbling at least five feet ahead of me. Eyes widening, I glanced down at the floor, noticing the almost imperceptible slope toward the finish line. My heart pounded, but I forced my face to remain as defeated as before. Hopefully, no one behind me had noticed the slope. So far, I was the only one rolling the stone. Pride kept the others from doing anything other than hauling the damn thing around and straining beneath all that weight.
As nonchalantly as possible, I palmed the rock and shoved it again, releasing a loud groan to make it seem like I was struggling.
The stone tumbled forward. Smiling, I shoved it again, and it kept rolling forward, gaining momentum with every push.
I passed Knut on my left. He whooped and hollered, urging me on.
The crowd roared with thunderous approval. I glanced around the stone, expecting to see Tormund or Galinn rushing to victory, but…no, they’d already finished. They stood behind the black line and lounged against their rocks, and they were watching—me.
Tormund locked eyes with me and smiled.
My gut twisted. Cheeks heating, I shoved the rock again, catching up to one of Tormund’s shadow demon friends. The crowd’s cheers had grown deafening. I couldn’t even hear myself breathe, let alone think. Sweat drenching the back of my neck and hands aching from scraping the rock, I ground my teeth and gave the stone one last push.
It tipped over, and over, and over again, shuddering to a stop just behind the finish line. I jogged after it. My feet passed over the line. The crowd went wild.
I bit back a smile, but then I couldn’t help my damn self. My lips widened, a strange surge of pride lifting my chest. Grinning, I looked up and scanned the arena stands. Everyone was on their feet. Green and gold banners whipped through the air. And even though there were nine other contestants, and even though I hadn’t won—five others had finished before me—I knew deep in my gut that all this screaming…it was for me.
Little old me.
Tormund sauntered over and stuck out his hand. “Well done, Astrid.”
The light in my heart suddenly died. I ignored his offered hand. “Don’t patronize me, Tormund. I’m assuming you won?”
“I did.” A pause. “But I mean what I said. Well done on your finish. Lots of the dwarves bet you’d come last. Looks like I was right, and they were wrong.”
“You were right—wait what?” I asked, stumbling over my words.
“I bet you’d come middle of the pack,” he said, smiling now. “You just made me a lot of gold coin.”
He looked at me like he expected some kind of thanks, like I should be grateful he’d believed in me—as half-hearted as it was. He’d bet on me? For middle of the pack? Who did he think he was? My scowl deepened. He thought he was the bloomin’ winner of the first trial, that was who. And to make matters more annoying, he’d succeeded in his egotistical mission.
At least he didn’t think I’d fail miserably, like everyone else.
