“But—”
“I thought you didn’t want to fight?”
He was right. I was exhausted, and not only from the training or staying up a whole night waiting to see if he’d let me leave. I hadn’t even processed what Viljan had told me, or what he’d accused me of—or that my loyal guard was no longer that.
Darcke nodded when I fell into step with him again, and we continued the comfortable silence as we walked the dock and onto his ship.
Twenty-Eight
The next few days, that became our routine: Darcke would drag me up from his bed, which he’d let me sleep in while he slept on the floor, then barely allow me to eat breakfast—it was only his ship refusing to let us leave before I’d eaten at least some dried fish that ensured I got something in my stomach—before we trained all day, ending it with the hot springs.
The warm water was sorely needed because Darcke didn’t let up on kicking my ass, trying to get me to fight back, and while we’d come to some sort of silent agreement to talk as little as possible, he was getting increasingly frustrated by the day. The bruises on my body, blooming black and blue across almost every inch of my skin, were proof of that.
I winced as I stared out over Morkskog, the untamed, lethal forest in the north of Nordoen, where a strange wind whistled through the tallest trees I’d ever seen and shadows moved across the forest bed in ways they shouldn’t, flickering stubbornly against the pale sun shining above.
The air was thick with trembling anticipation, but I attributed that to the nervous heirs and their seconds standingalong the tree line, waiting for Guner and the shaman to allow us to enter.
Darcke and I had been woken before dawn by Torden banging on the ship’s hull, and as we’d dragged our tired bodies to the Hird, the king and Guner had waited there with a small group of warriors and horses.
I’d been avoiding Viljan and the others all week, and I was grateful Darcke had demanded to ride in the front with his men. Since we had to share a horse, I hadn’t even had to deal with their stares burning into my back.
When I’d gotten onto the horse, Darcke had jumped up behind me, and in his usual bastard way, he’d ripped the reins from my hands and forced me to sit within his arms as he guided the horse through the island, choosing whatever speed pleased him at the moment.
I swore he’d chosen to gallop over the rockiest parts because I’d dared try to find a position where the mare’s spine didn’t dig into my bruised behind.
A flicker went through the bond, and I very maturely stuck out my tongue at my second when he approached the king. He wiggled his fingers back, his face betraying nothing of the glee I sensed within him.
“How are you doing?” Rakkel looked exhausted as she came to my side, her eyes sunken, without a trace of the teasing smile she’d worn like a mark of honor the first weeks of the summer trials.
“Did they send you?” I asked quietly.
Viljan and Ivren stood turned our way, their mouths moving as they talked, but the tension in their shoulders was more obvious than if I’d bonded with one of them.
“Yes.” Rakkel shrugged. “But I also wanted to say hi.”
I sighed through my tense jaw. At least she was honest.
“Hi,” I said.
“Guess I deserved that.” She raked a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not been easy for you the past few days.”
The guilt in her words dripped down my back. Up close like this, Rakkel looked even worse. There was an emptiness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, and the way Stefen kept throwing glares our way, I guessed they were having a fight.
“Has it been easy for you?” I asked.
“No,” she replied. “Not the bonding or anything else.” She swallowed. “Did you hear there was another attack yesterday?”
“No?” I hadn’t heard anything, but that wasn’t too surprising, given that I basically was in the glen with Darcke or passed out from exhaustion. “Who?”
When a twinge of worry raised my shoulders, an answering question instantly resounded within me. Without looking, I waved a dismissive hand Darcke’s way.
I hadn’t seen Ilse or Kilia since that day in the training ring. As their iron-bound, I should be getting to know them—should be bonding even before we formally did so at the academy. But I didn’t have it in me—not yet—and Darcke hadn’t pressed me about it.
My stomach turned, thinking of Kilia. I should especially have been keeping an eye on him, even if it had been days now and he hadn’t raised his suspicions.
Another shudder went through me. He was probably saving his reveal for something bigger—sometime when I wouldn’t be able to escape.
“Ottoh’s sister was attacked while walking back from the lake last night.” Rakkel subtly tilted her head to our right, where Ottoh stood next to a gray stallion, keeping a hand on the horse’s neck while talking to Vero, who was slumped over it.
