I didn’t respond, only turned to glare at him.
“Watch it,” Darcke taunted. “Don’t want to stare too long. You might find something to admire again. And we can’t have that,eldest daughter of the very important chief.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I hissed.
“That was what we werenotgoing to do, remember?”
I wondered what would happen if I killed my own second, because right now that was more of a possibility than me fucking him.
A flicker of something rushed along the bond, but before I could decipher it, the mist went still. It was the only way I coulddescribe it—like it became a wall of white: thick, dense and terrifying.
Screams sounded within the strange, white shadows, and I wasn’t the only one who took a step back at the smell of death that followed. Iron-heavy air surrounded us, choked us, and Ottoh pressed his hand over his mouth when the heavy scent of decay slithered through the air.
“What is that?” Geord asked, his words coming out thick as he covered his nose.
“It’s the trees that died for our ships,” I replied as I pushed back my shoulders. “Show some respect.”
I could feel them—the spirits that the gods had sacrificed so that we could take to the seas. Like me, they didn’t have a choice. They’d been chosen for this without volunteering, because it was their birthright—their honor to uphold in the divine circle of our realm.
Two ships came out, side by side. Both were made of silver oak, their sails shimmering as the mist danced around them. When they left the white air behind, I had to cover my eyes for how they reflected the bright sun, blinding us until they moored beside the king’s ship.
Ivren and Viljan and Geord and his second started walking, almost as if they were in a trance.
“Silver oak, the wood that allows our front lines to hide from our enemies.” The shaman’s voice boomed across Yggdrasil Bay. “Their spirit has given Ivren Solsken and Geord Palsjo the honor of building their ships with this powerful tree.”
Rakkel swallowed loudly, her face somehow becoming even more hollow. Stefen tried to pull her to him, but she shook him off with a violence that made me wince.
“That was her mother’s wood,” Ottoh breathed. “Guess Chief Rafenskol won’t be too happy.”
I chewed my lip. Most chiefs wished their heirs would be blessed by the same trees they had been. The runes we were gifted by the godsonly worked if carved into the wood that had also chosen the heir. Rakkel’s people would have to build new ships if they wanted them to be fueled by the magic she’d soon have coursing through her veins.
A bloodred ship came next, the scarlet oak beautifully contrasting with all the white.
Ottoh smiled as he and Vero left us behind.
“Scarlet oak, the only wood impenetrable to our enemies’ weapons,” the shaman said. “Its spirit has offered Ottoh Briggen its blessing.”
I tapped my fingers against my thighs when Ottoh helped his sister on first, then climbed onto his ship with a pride that made the former giggle.
Silence stretched on again as the heirs inspected and got to know their ships. Rakkel and I shared a look when several long moments passed.
“What’s happening?” she hissed.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I replied.
“Those fingers say differently,” Darcke rasped. “Could you drum them any faster?”
He turned away when I did, and I ignored the single drop of amusement whispering between us. Then something in my gut tugged, and I was moving even before the two ships left the wall of white mist behind.
One white and one golden sailed in, and I held my breath, pleading in my mind for the oak the color of snow that could sail safely in any weather—the wood my father had cherished our whole life.
“The white oak has chosen Rakkel Rafenskol to lead her safely through storm and ice and wind,” the shaman called out over the bay just as the other female heir left my side, turning right, down to where the beautiful white warship slowed to a stop.
My heart stuttered in my chest, but my feet kept moving, forcing me forward toward the gilded ship that sparkled as bright as the sun above us.
The shaman must have spoken, but I didn’t hear it.
Golden oak. The same golden oak that had leaked seers’ sap and showed me my future.
