Even from here, it was clear that she was injured. Her arm was in a sling tied tight to her body, and the side of her face wasn’t darkened from the sun or with bruises from training, like mine. The blue and green spots ran from her temple down her neck, and I winced, imagining how much that must hurt.
“Do we know who did it?” I asked.
“Yes. Your guard was the one who found her. Viljan, is that his name?”
“He’s notmyguard anymore,” I said, but my response was too fast, and from the look Rakkel shot my way, she didn’t believe me.
“Anyway. He was coming from training with Ivren when he found two men who’d attacked her close to the harbor. He killed one and captured the other. They hail from some nation Ivren’s family invaded years ago—a small southern island.”
“Are they related to the ones that came after me and Ilse?”
“We don’t know.” Rakkel stared off into the woods as a sound from some animal I hoped we could avoid wove between the trees. “The man refuses to talk. Apparently Darcke’s men are doing everything they can, but so far no luck.”
I guessed the attacks were another reason I should be grateful to Darcke’s training. By staying far into the woods, where not even the king or his men were likely to find us, we were also staying safe from the foreigners who were braving our lands.
I turned toward my second when a short woman with golden hair caught my eye.
“What?” I breathed.
“What is it?” Rakkel whirled in the same direction. “Who is that?”
“My mother,” I said slowly.
“That’s nice,” Rakkel said. “My mother just left to go home. She wanted to ensure the bonding went well, but now I’m on my own.”
I wasn’t sure aboutnice. I didn’t reply as I made my way over to where my mother bowed to the king. She spoke a few words before turning toward Ivren and Viljan. The crack that had opened in my chest when I left my home widened as my mother walked up to embrace Ivren, then bowed her head to Viljan, settling with her back toward me.
She wasn’t even looking my way.
Of course she isn’t. Think about what you’ve done so far. You’rean embarrassment to the Sweengard name. No one would be proud to be the mother of someone so dishonorable. Your father must be so ashamed at his table in Valhalla.
I blinked away the tears fighting to spill from my eyes, forcing a smile on my face as I joined the trio.
“Mother,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
Her eyes started at my feet, then moved up my legs and over my chest, and finally met my gaze. “You look starved.” Her fingers tapped my temple. “But your head is somehow intact.”
“What?” I asked, sensing Darcke stiffen somewhere behind me, his searing gaze shooting my way.
“I had to wonder if your mind had gone.” My mother dragged me closer by the arm of the jacket Darcke had forced me to wear because we didn’t know what we’d face in Morkskog. “Bonding with Darcke A’lian?One of the king’s warriors, and a foreigner at that? What if you die during the trials or the Hird? Will he lead our people? Will he sit on your father’s throne? What were you thinking?”
Ivren grimaced. “She tried to make the best she could of a s?—”
“Ivren, I’m speaking to my daughter,” my mother interrupted. “Lika wouldneverhave done this to us.” Her bottom lip trembled, not with sorrow but rage. “Why did the gods have to take your brother instead of you? Why didyouhave to be the one that lived?”
“Seindra!” Viljan looked horrified.
“Don’t even get me started with you,” my mother snapped. “You were supposed to lead her right. You were supposed to be reasonable! How could you have allowed this?”
“Mother.” I tried to signal to Darcke not to come over, but obviously he fucking didn’t listen. “If you think for only a second, you’ll understand why I had to do it. It was foryou. For our people.”
My mother’s words hurt, but it was a dull pain—softenedafter years of hearing a different version of the same. I’d always been a disappointment to her. I was too weak, too soft hearted, too slow, not enough Viking, and not enough bride.
“Elvara, it’s like you don’t understand the stakes. We are relying on you now. We need you to survive for all of us to.” My mother thankfully lowered her voice, but there was still something harsh and accusatory in it. “I hope Viljan has informed you that your father’s men think it was someone we know who killed your brother and father. If their suspicions are true, we have atraitorin our fylki.”
“He did, but?—”
“You’ve only made enemies here. Not a single ally apart from that vicious, strange, witless beast of a warrior,” my mother continued, spit flying from her mouth at the urgency she tried to get the words out.
