“Thurs?” Asta reached out and ran a hand over the golden bridle containing the conch crest.
Soren swam forward, a wicked grin on his face. “You didn’t know?”
Thurs nudged Asta with her nose. “Know what?”
“‘Thurs,’ as you call her, is the alpha of the northern kelpies,” the scarred siren gestured to the horse. “Her entire herd has been at your command since you captured her. We even heard about it here in Naltania. The kelpies allegiance is to you. They haven’t been tamed in centuries.”
A mass of emerald green emerged from the clouded waters around them, nearly one hundred kelpies, from Asta’s quick count, and they all answered to her.
Asta grabbed Thurs’s bridle and ran her thumb over the crest on the golden coin. She grinned as she announced, “Then I guess we know how we’re traveling to Ryktarva.”
Annika swam in circles around the group, clearly eager to get moving. Revna pulled her light blue hair back into a tight knot, the strands of hair matching the color of her fin. But her nearly white eyes bore into Asta, which made her heart skip a beat.
No, Asta wasn’t a trained soldier. She couldn’t make someone’s stomach turn with one glare like this siren warrior could. But Asta could fight, and she was damn good at it. She already held off Maren and Svanhild by herself. Surely, with this group, she could free Kaid.
“Let’s bring the lost prince home.”
Part 2
Chapter 27
Linnea felt the air completely depart her lungs as she watched Asta crumple into the ocean, landing in the arms of a finned female with flaming red hair. She sprinted—something Linnea hadn’t done in years—toward her cousin who was being pulled under the currents, but she was too far.
Linnea’s perpetually frail body was no match for the storm winds. She had wasted precious moments frozen in fear on the terrace and it had cost her the minutes she needed to reach the shoreline in time.
Why did her cousin always have to play the hero? Asta insisted on saving everyone, even if they didn’t deserve it. ButLinnea knew that the sacrifice her cousin had made was not for one person. No, Asta had done this for their nation; for her kingdom. And though Linnea could not fault her for that, she still felt a pang of betrayal at the sacrifice.
Linnea’s weak body only ran so far until she was exhausted and had to slow to a brisk walk. She heard heavy steps behind her and turned to see Halsten trudging through the wet sand at a jog. His long, charcoal hair was plastered to his high cheekbones and if Linnea wasn’t so enraged, her legs may have turned weak at the sight of him.
Linnea turned back to the sea to find that her cousin was gone, completely swallowed by the deep water, and she fell to her knees.
“No!” she bellowed. Her breaths came quickly and she felt like there wasn’t enough air in the world. Not without Asta.
Year after year, her cousin had breathed life back into her slowly and that was something she could never manage to repay. Now, she may never get the chance to try.
The warmth of a hand pressed itself to Linnea’s back, seeping through the soaked fabric of her dress. “Breathe, Linnea. You have to breathe,” Halsten begged, his voice straining to be heard over the deafening downpour. “In… and out,slowly.” Linnea sucked in a deep breath and let it out steadily. “That’s it. Again,” he pressed.
After a few more breaths, the tightness in Linnea’s chest began to ease. Halsten kneeled in the sand in front of her, grabbing her wrists to pull her hands away from her face. She stared into his soft brown eyes and blinked away her tears that camouflaged into the rain. But Halsten knew the tears were there.
“Asta wouldn’t want to see you like this, right?” Halsten asked.
Linnea shook her head.
He gave her a gentle smile and ran his thumbs over her stark white scars on her wrists. “What would Asta want you to do?”
She looked around, taking in her surroundings. To one side, the crashing sea. To the other, the castle—a beacon in the storm. Her voice shook as she murmured, “Stand up.”
Halsten leaned in closer to Linnea, his face hardly a few inches from hers. “You’re going to have to say that louder, Little Flame. I couldn’t quite hear you.”
Little Flame. The strange name Halsten had been calling her since his first few days arriving in Orntali. Though she never understood the meaning, she presumed it was due to her light auburn hair. Linnea was thankful for the horrid weather because it hid her now hot, rosy cheeks. She sucked in a deep breath and repeated herself a little louder. “Stand up.”
Halsten let go of her wrists and stood to his full height, extending a hand toward her in support. “One more time, for me. What would Asta want you to do?” he shouted.
Normally shouting made Linnea flinch and revert to her old self. Obedient. Quiet. Unremarkable in every way. But something about Halsten’s encouragement sparked a light in her. A little flame.
Linnea reached out and firmly gripped Halsten’s hand. Through the rain, the worry, and the defeat, she shouted, “Stand up!”
As the words escaped her mouth, Halsten heaved her up to her feet with one swift tug of his arm and caught her hip to stabilize her. He pointed at her with a stern finger. “You always stand up, Linnea. From here on out. It’s okay to fall, but you need to get back up. We’re in some serious shit and Asta is going to need you.”
