“That’s not true. I just…” I pushed my hands into the grass.
“Will you stop,” Geord’s cousin snapped when another guy rolled his eyes. “She’s answered about twenty of your questions by now. You can give her some time to breathe.”
She waved for one of the servants—the girl from earlier. When she came over, she looked everywhere but at me, and I kept my gaze down as Geord’s cousin dispersed the drinks. As she pressed one into my hands, I smiled at her, and an ember of warmth fought itself into my gut when she grinned back.
“As for what we’ll do tonight.” She took out a leather pouch and waved it in the air. “I got us some fly agaric.”
I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose. Many Vikings would ingest the mushroom before battle because it was rumored to make us stronger and more focused and to increase bloodlust, but my father didn’t like it. He wanted us to have clear heads so that we would make sound decisions—especially when we were in enemy territory.
“Too good for this too?” the guy who’d rolled his eyes taunted. “The eldest daughter Sweengard can’t possibly eat some blood-fury. What if she lost some of her precious control?”
My fingers curled into the grass, but I didn’t respond. The crowd had thinned out, and while Ottoh stood with his iron-bound only a little ways away, Ivren was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Rakkel. Geord, on the other hand, was making his way over.
“You scared, Sweengard?” the new heir asked as he plopped himself down beside his cousin. “It probably won’t even affect you as much, with all that strength you refuse to show anyone.”
“It’s not that strong,” the girl assured me. “It’s not for battle but for fun.”
“I’m all right,” I said, waving my horn. “I’ll keep to this.”
“Oh, come on,” Geord taunted. “You just decided to bond with the most lethal—and grumpy—warrior there is. You should have some fun tonight because when you bond tomorrow, you’ll be feeling all those emotions.”
My brows snapped together before I could stop them, and I placed my horn on the ground.
“Wait.” Geord’s smile was instant, a look that made my skinprickle. “You realize that it’s not just your weapons that will be attuned after you bond.”
“I know how a second works,” I replied, though a cold weight in my stomach twisted. “We’ll share the rhythm of battle through our magic and skills.”
“And through feeling each other’s emotions.” Geord laughed. “It’s how you learn everything about each other so that nothing can surprise you.”
The need to vomit washed over me, but I forced out a chuckle. “Sure,” I said. “I knew that.”
I hadn’t known that, and I doubted Viljan did either. My father’s second was no longer alive, and he didn’t like to talk about him. He’d been my father’s greatest loss, and we children rarely brought it up because none of us liked the expression that came over him.
The rest of the initiates would bond in a different way during the academy—find their own kind of iron-bound. It was only the heirs and their seconds who would be bound together by the king’s shaman—share that divine tether.
“You’re looking a little pale.” Geord took the bag from his cousin, dipped his fingers into it, and then licked off the brown powder stuck to them. “You sure you don’t want any?”
I shook my head as I took up my horn again. Taking several deep gulps, I tried not to imagine what feeling Darcke’s emotions would be like. Or him feeling mine.
Thankfully the conversation picked up, although I felt Geord’s eyes on me from time to time, but I continued to ignore him as I emptied the horn. When my full bladder made itself known, I got to my feet.
Night had fallen fast. The stars were brighter than I’d seen them in a while, and the aurora remained, although the colors were more muted now, as if the gods were preparing to pull in their bridges and find something else to entertain them.
An owl hooted loudly. I jerked when the blades of grass cut my wrists as my arms swung by my sides. Dizziness came over mewhen I looked down, and another bout of nausea slammed into me when the grass whipped all around me, as if a storm had taken it and forced it back and forth. I blinked hard, but the tree line ahead refused to settle, pulsing in and out of focus like a heartbeat.
A heaviness started in my fingers, and soon I couldn’t feel my arms at all. Then it continued through my legs, making my gut feel leaden and my shoulders so weighed down I should have sunk through the ground.
Laughter exploded somewhere behind me, and my blood froze to ice.
I tried to speak—to demand who was there—but my mouth was dry and uncooperative, refusing to form the words. Panic clamped down on my chest, and I stumbled, my boots tangling in the lashing grass as a heavy rhythm of footsteps echoed my own, closing the distance.
Light flashed, and the stars grew large, coming so close I could smell their strange scent.
Fuck, I cursed in my mind.
My thoughts snapped to the horn I’d set down. I should have fucking known better.
As more footsteps thudded behind me, I continued walking. I was certain I’d fall if I tried to turn to check who was stalking me. Darkness wrapped around me when I reached the forest, and if I could have, I would have jerked at the shadows whipping across the path and the sounds that were too loud—too close.
