"Egil—” Gunnar broke for a moment, revealing that he knew the king far more personally than most did.
King Egil's eyes narrowed, and she could feel his anger in the air. Crackling around them with a power that could not be denied. "That wasn't a question, Gunnar. It was an order. You will follow me. Now."
Gunnar cast one last glance back at her before huffing out an angry sound and continuing forward with his king. "Find your sister!" Gunnar shouted back at her. "Don't go wandering."
Little did he know, Rose wasn't sure she'd ever get to do that again.
Fifteen
Gunnar
She had to participate.
He was going to lose his mind.
Gunnar wasn't sure if he should be ridiculously angry, or if he should just give up. He'd been trying to protect this woman for almost a year now, and it seemed she tried to negate all his hard work. She didn't want to be protected. She didn't want to be safe. Ach, most of the time he thought she'd rather be dead, and that made something in his chest feel like it could shatter.
No, he wouldn't let her die. He wouldn't let her do something that she regretted. That was why he was here. Gunnar had promised to take care of her, and that was exactly what he was going to do.
"My king," he tried again, uncertain that he could get through to Egil, but at least trying one more time. "She really shouldn't participate in the games. I know you have been removed from much these days, but she cannot handle this. The slightest wind can set her off. Smells. Sounds. She's fragile."
"She has been in that state for a very long time," Egil replied. "And I do not see her breaking yet. Perhaps you should consider that you do not know what it means to be fragile."
Riddles. It was always riddles with this man.
They walked through the clearing, heading into the woods to a secret place Gunnar knew very well. Egil worshipped the old gods, ones who didn't have names. Some believed they were spirits, the ancestors, others believed the gods were the parts that made up the mountain.
A small altar was hidden beneath bright blue leaves that fell upon the top of the stone surface. Countless scratch marks marred the smooth top, years of many trolls having worshipped right here. A small stone slab had been placed on the ground before it, and even that was worn with two divots where knees had rested many times over the centuries.
Twin trees arched over their heads, blue leaves vibrant and glowing in reaction to the king. All of Trollveggen did that. As though the mountain herself recognized the man who led them all, and even she bowed her head to the greatest king of the trolls.
He knelt, and his attendants draped his wings behind him. Limp, as always. But now they looked like a massive cloak that stretched far beyond his clawed feet.
"Kneel with me," Egil said, gesturing to the other side of the altar. "Perhaps the mountain goddess can answer your questions better than I can."
No goddess would speak to him. He'd tried. After he had lost... her. Gunnar remembered coming to this particular spot, kneeling before the goddess, hoping and praying that she would speak to him. That she would allow him to speak with Tindra just one more time. He needed to apologize. To tell her that there had been no excuse for him not fighting to get to her, and that no matter what he had tried, there was no way he could have savedher life, but maybe... Maybe she knew of a way. Maybe she'd forgive him for not thinking of it.
But none of it had worked. The goddess had remained quiet. He did not see the spirit of his dearest friend, and he would never see her again. That was how death went.
Egil believed differently. He came here to pray to his wife. He came to beg for forgiveness on behalf of a nearly fully elven mother, who had cried at the sight of her son. Egil had loved his wife desperately. At least, that was how the story was always told.
The king leaned forward, his elbow notching into the slots that had been worn into the stone, and then he glared at Gunnar until he did the same.
Sighing, Gunnar tried to remain quiet. He really did. He understood that worship was different for everyone and that this still was a holy place. But that didn't stop the argument from falling from his lips.
Under his breath, as though he was afraid the mountain would hear him, he murmured, "Rose is still in a delicate state. Everyone knows she wanders, but it is more than that, my king. I have watched her soul leave her body more times than I can count. We must keep her in one place until I can figure out a way to keep her spirit where it needs to be."
"Her spirit seemed firmly attached to me."
"It is sometimes attached and sometimes not." This argument was frustrating and going nowhere already. "I am asking you to do this one thing for me."
"And I am asking you to drop it. If she had wanted to leave the games, she would have told me so." Egil looked at Gunnar over his clasped hands, his brows furrowed in anger. "You are stopping her from fulfilling her destiny. Perhaps you have done that for a very long time."
Gunnar's mouth dropped open, his jaw working before he blurted out, "I've kept her safe since I found her!"
The branches above their heads rattled in warning at his tone. Even the mountain didn't like what he was implying.
"You know as well as I do that there is strength in that woman. It's why you didn't leave her behind. It's why you haven't been able to leave her behind since the very first moment you saw her." Egil tilted his head to the side. "The mountain sees it. The energy that runs beneath our feet recognizes there is good in her. There is a purpose that hasn't been snuffed out by countless hands who pawed and bruised. She has endured, Gunnar. There is power in that."
