Yellowed grass crackled beneath my boots. The tension in the air grew as the crowd spread out before the shaman, and the king and queen and their court, turned to watch me approach.
“Keep your chin up,” I muttered to myself as I plastered a blank expression across my face and strode through the gathering of initiates, pretending I didn’t mind having to shove several people out of the way as they tried to block me from reaching the front.
When I used my elbow to nudge a final person out of the way, someone stuck their foot out, and I stumbled into the space left open before the royals, biting my tongue so hard tears sprung to my eyes.
Thankfully Ilse got hold of my jacket before I fell entirely, and I grimaced gratefully at her before taking the spot between her and Darcke.
“You may proceed,” I said as I faced the shaman, pretending not to see when the old wrinkled man gave me a look of loathing.
He scoffed, but when he turned to the king and the only thing Gustief did was to raise his brows, the shaman shook his head and started speaking again in his low, hollow voice.
I felt the king’s eyes on me, but when I pushed back my shoulders and rolled my neck, they moved on to someone else.
“As I said, the bonding is a sacred ritual between warriors.” The shaman threw out his thin arms, which were covered in intricate tattoos, as dark as his hair and the long beard weaving its way down his chest, telling the stories of every conquest King Gustief had ordered us out on. “Tonight we are gathered to bind the heirs of our five fylkis to their seconds—the men and women who will protect their backs in our lands.”
“Where have you been?” Ilse whispered under her breath when he paused.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled as quietly as possible. “I lost track of time.”
Kilia leaned behind Darcke and took something out of my hair. “Did you sleep in the woods again?” He laughed in a waythat made me shuffle to the side so he couldn’t reach me anymore. “I heard the others plotting to go after you, so not returning to the longhouse was probably wise.”
“Shut up,” Darcke hissed. “I don’t need this to take longer than necessary.”
I caught Darcke’s eyes as I turned forward again, and my cheeks grew warm at the tight expression on his face.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled.
“I didn’t ask,” the warrior replied sharply.
When I expelled a sigh, the shaman gave us a stern look before sweeping another arm out across the initiates. “By the end of the Hird, when you’ve all graduated, you will each have formed your own iron-bound. We allow only the heirs to bond with their seconds before the formal training because the trials they need to pass to be considered by the gods are too dangerous to face alone.”
I winced when Darcke growled softly.
“Heirs, please step forward together with your chosen second.”
When I took a step away from my group of very reluctant iron-bound, Darcke followed, although it clearly was a struggle for him to get his feet to move. He didn’t look my way at all. His head was turned forward, toward the king, Torden, and the other warriors who’d come up to stand guard around him.
On my other side Viljan took a spot, and something within me that I didn’t know was tense relaxed at the familiarity of his sharp features, the straight back no king could fault, and the eyes that didn’t betray anything that might storm within him.
“You okay?” Viljan whispered.
“Yes.”
It was not worth telling him what had happened last night. It wasn’t like he could change it, and regardless, nothing had truly happened anyway.
“We need to talk,” he continued.
“I know.” Despite what I knew would happen, I reached outto tap the back of my hand against his, but as always, it found only air.
Darcke clicked his tongue, and when I shot him a questioning look, his dark eyes went from Viljan to me and back to Viljan, the corners tightening.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” The warrior turned forward again.
“Vara.” Ivren leaned over Viljan, and despite how furious I was with him, I had to applaud his bravery, because the rage rolling off my guard mademewant to retreat. “I’m sorry again. I… I need to explain. And I will.”
“I think you lost your shot, Solsken,” Ottoh said. “I doubt she’ll consider you in marriage after what you pulled.”
