I didn’t hesitate as I sprinted back to my second.
Darcke groaned as I slipped my hands under his shoulders and started dragging him toward the beach. “Stop complaining,” I hissed, hiding my worry. “I’m the one who’ll have sore muscles tomorrow.”
“Don’t… don’t pretend you haven’t admired my muscles,” he replied.
I couldn’t stop the grimace weaving over my features at how weak his voice was.
“That was not the intended response,” Darcke said.
“Shut up. I need to focus if I’m going to get you out alive.”
Darcke felt the worry coiling inside me, but thankfully he didn’t say anything as I pulled him through bushes and dirt andweeds. It wasn’t until we were almost where the tree line met the beach that he spoke again.
“I thought the bond was supposed to make us stronger, but…” More blood bubbled out of his mouth, something I wasn’t sure I should try to understand flashing across his features. “I think being close to you is making me worse.”
“Thanks,” I muttered as I finally got him onto the sand and allowed myself to slump down beside him.
“No.” Darcke turned his head so he could find my eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean, then?”
But Darcke’s eyes had closed, and my heart stuttered when I felt his breathing slow.
“Help!” I called. “Help us!”
Thirty-Three
“The ships should sail as soon as the warden of the forest allows it.” Guner stood above the bay, where the blackest of water mirrored the thick mist twirling above it.
The cliffs skirting the steep drop were tall, as dark as the water and glistening in the midday sun, and an otherworldly song echoed in the air—one that spoke of times long lost, of battle and glory and bravery and survival.
“We’ve got this,” Ottoh said under his breath when I twisted my hands. “We already passed.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” I shot back.
My words betrayed my nerves—my unease—as Torden and the others still worked on Darcke, Vero, and Geord’s second, who’d all been injured during the trial.
I also couldn’t not worry that there would be no ship for me. If Njord was the only one who’d chosen me out of the gods, then this forest might not even recognize me as an heir.
“Don’t worry.” Ivren came to my side, his lip split but otherwise unharmed. “You got out third, and you fought for your life to save you second. You’ll be rewarded for your honor.”
“Thanks for the help back there,” I replied quietly.
My brother’s friend touched the back of my hand, a small smile setting his features alight. “I’m sorry we didn’t arrive earlier. I’m sorry he got hurt.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said as some of the anger that had clung to me since Ivren took my intended second faded. “It could have gone a lot worse if you and Viljan hadn’t come when you did.”
Ivren’s smile spread, and when I returned it, something within him relaxed enough that Viljan became visible beside his tall frame.
“Those fuckers,” Viljan snarled as he leaned forward. “I can’t believe they’ve become so brave as to come here—onto our sacred lands. It’s bad enough they’re at the Hird, but Morkskog is divine territory.”
Ivren twisted his lips, his mouth opening, then closing again.
“What is it?” I asked.
The raven-haired heir touched his lip, then turned to where the king, Guner, and part of the court stood. My mother and Ivren’s mother were a few feet farther behind, talking quietly as they waited for the warden of the woods to bless us with her gifts.
When Ivren beckoned me away from Ottoh, I cautiously shuffled closer.
