I let out a grunt and threw the axe with as much force as I could muster. It did spin once, but it didn’t reach the trunk. The axe thudded on the dirt near the foot of the tree.
Aegir picked up the other axe and handed it to me. “You let go too late. Spread your legs a bit more.” I tried not to blush at that request. “Go.”
I replayed the instructions in my mind—axe behind head, grip tight, legs spread, let go—and took one deep breath beforethrowing with a sharp exhale. I hit the tree, just below the intended mark. Aegir fetched both axes and handed me one.
“Again,” he ordered. I gasped at the hit, receiving a nod of approval from Aegir.
“Again.” It landed just above the other.
“Again.”
“Again.”
“Again.”
I wasn’t sure of how many throws I made, but I was fairly certain that each was a decent strike. Aegir took out his dagger and carved the rotting tree trunk with an X. “Last one for today,” he said, handing me the axe.
I put all of my focus into that one throw, aiming at the mark, carved higher than any of my earlier landings. I imagined it to be my worst enemy, just as Aegir suggested. Mounir stood in front of my mark. I brought my clenched hands behind my head. But then, almost to my surprise, it was the immortal Fire King who stood there. I had never seen the monster, only heard stories about him and his ruthless attacks. Yet my mind pictured a clear image of an evil king clad in fiery-red armour. The man who’d turned my land parched. The same man who somehow nullified the powers of the Ilmans, leaving me short of healing the damage that had made me forget who Cordelia Wildheart truly was. My blood boiled, urging me to let go with a roar.
“Yes,” I grunted, satisfied by the sweet thump as the axe lodged just where the Fire King’s head would have been. My gaze slid to Aegir’s.
He smacked his lips. “Not bad, Cordelia…not bad at all.”
I was startled when Joel let out one of his wild howls from somewhere behind me. I spun around and realised that I had been so focused on throwing, I hadn’t even noticed the little Ice Fae gathering at my back. Before I could blink, Joel wrapped an arm around my hips and lifted me off the floor. I yelped.
“Try to do us harm, and we’ll unleash her upon you, if you dare face her wrath!” Joel bellowed. Darius and Torvin howled at the sky and I found myself smiling bashfully at Aegir’s barked laugh.
Our journey towards dusk was silent; even Joel was wordless for most of it. They reminded me of restless children who were finally exhausted after playing all day in the sun.
I lay inside my tent, my arms sore and tired. I closed my eyes, striving to fight off my sleeplessness, but my mind wouldn’t rest—thoughts came uninvited and I couldn’t resist them.
I hoped that Cinnamon was all right, fed. The thought alone gave me the need to let out an exasperated sigh. Then I thought about that victorious moment when I struck the X, and the howling that came after it. I thought about Aegir’s laugh, and moments before that, his arms at my waist, sliding down to my thighs.
Spread your legs a bit more.
Are you hot?
I should have fought harder to keep my sensible thoughts intact—hewas a prince, Lord of the Vanguard of Ice. The son of a Fae and a Strongman. Immortal. Powerful. Dangerous. I was a servant. Unknown. Human. Mortal. Weak. But I didn’t. Instead, I envisioned him guiding me inside the stable stall. I imagined that it was him pinning me against the wooden wall. Would he have hurt me, or would he have been gentle and attentive?
Ismail’s offer had been tugging at my thoughts for the past weeks. So after the sun came down, I mustered enough courage and went to the main stables.
“I hope it’s not a bad time,” I said, making my way in.
“Delia! You came. I—I didn’t think you’d come,” he replied, making his way out from one of the stalls. “Let me take your bag.”
Ismail showed me the horses as promised, giving me a short backstory on each. My belly grazed the half door and I watched Samina, a beautiful pregnant mare, while learning about her unfortunate past and mistreatment. It broke my heart.
“She’s lucky you found her just in time,” I told him, my eyes still glued to the mare. Then to my surprise, I felt Ismail’s little finger grazing my own. We exchanged smiles and shy glances.
Before I left, he told me, “I’m going to have to ask you not to come tomorrow. The stables will be closed for camp night.”
“Camp night?” I asked.
“Yes, we set up camp in the paddock and light campfires. We drink ale and tell tales by the fire. It’s better than it sounds in person. But you cannot come as it is for stablemen only. Because if it wasn’t, I would tell you to come.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be coming tomorrow. I will probably not be here until next month. Until my next day off.”
“Oh, that far away?” he asked, disappointment rolling off his tongue.
