A loud cheer went through the crowd.
I kept my chin up as I walked through the initiates, heading out of the tent. While they parted for me, their contemptuous glares burned, and I pretended not to notice the spit landing on my cheek and dripping down my collarbone.
Tears blurred my eyes when I finally reached the flaps leading out into the night, and as soon as I escaped the tent, I started running.
Six
Asummer gale whistled through the sails of the ships when I reached the harbor, and it was as if the ships had heard the venom I’d spilled back there, because the creaking of the hulls shifting in the water carried a malicious edge.
The shadows falling from tall vessels and towering sails seemed darker, more volatile, and I whipped around when the sense of being followed brushed over my neck. The hushed songs of water and wind and battle had shifted into a slow beat of honor—one that quieted every time I passed one of their ports.
They didn’t want me here.
My boots struck the damp wood as I walked across the dock, using my hand to shield my neck and with my eyes down. When the shadows continued to dance threateningly in my path, I wanted nothing more than to hiss that I didn’t want to be here either. But while our ships didn’t have eyes, they did listen. The wood heard everything. I couldn’t be sure who they’d tell if I unloaded any of my worries.
When I closed my eyes, breathing in the smell of snow in the distance and the salt of the waves, I could pretend I was walking toward my father’s ships, toward the silver oak that grew on our lands after the tree had blessed him. I couldpretend it would sing to me to calm my racing heart, and that it would bring me out, away from the mess I’d left behind in the tent, and let the waves wash away the lingering stickiness coating my skin.
As I walked blindly, balancing on the narrow dock, my heart leaped into my throat when a loud slam of wood splintered through the night. With my hand against my heaving chest, I reeled backward.
The brow had slammed down from the onyx ship I’d admired what felt like a lifetime ago, but which was only a few short hours. The ship’s sleek hull gleamed like a night sky without stars. I traced my fingers over the beautifully carved planks, and it pulsed with life. Unlike with my father’s ships, no blood memory of battle or travels trickled through my veins, but a familiar aching for freedom and wide seas wound around my heart, and I pressed my palm against the side.
Boarding ships that weren’t your own was not only frowned upon but an invitation to a duel. But when I glanced over my shoulder, the harbor was quiet. And while the other ships still shrouded the dock in cold shadows, this one purred beneath my touch, as if she hadn’t taken to the seas in a long time.
I cast another look up the winding path to the Hird. Music and laughter and shouts still poured out from the tent, warm light from the fires spilling onto the ground, dancing far across the trampled grass.
I only wanted some company. It wasn’t like I would actually sail her out.
No one needed to find out.
“Can I come up?” I whispered.
The ship swayed as if taking a phantom wave. I took that as a yes.
Trying to make my steps as silent as Rakkel’s when she pulled energy from her rune, I sneaked up the brow. The deck was empty, not a single item betraying whose ship this was, nor where it had come from. It must have belonged to one of the king’swarriors, though. Or perhaps someone in his court. Only a high-standing Viking could claim such a beautifully powerful vessel.
As if she heard my thoughts, the ship trimmed her sails, and I yelped when the brow flew up with a crack that made every muscle in my body tense, although that was nothing compared to when the vessel started moving, expertly navigating the crowded harbor.
“No, no, no,” I rushed out. “Stop!”
The ship listened about as well as I had when Viljan hissed my name as I left the tent.
Wind bit into my cheeks, but I couldn’t enjoy it. The breeze was also filled with the scorn of the other ships, their bows twisted toward us as if contemplating whether it was worth the collision to hinder our exit. A tremor began in my hands when the vessel I stood upon braced instead of slowed, racing us out toward the open waters.
My face strained in the harsh wind when she picked up speed, and there was no hope of keeping down my grin as she banked, the hull brushing the mirror-like surface, and my stomach turned, not with fear but excitement. I couldn’t do much else but hold on as the ship flew across the water, breaking the moon’s reflection as she fought to play and whirl and dance.
Some of the pain that had kept my chest constricted since that evening when our own ships’ souls died with my father softened, and I took my first full breath in ten sundowns.
I’d forgotten what it was like to lose yourself in the wind and water, thinking only about where to turn next—what world to explore first.
Leaning over the railing, I giggled as water splashed across my face and chest and the wind whipped my dress and hair wherever it wished. My body softened, easily taking every swerve and bank, and it was as if I became one with the vessel. My giggle turned into laughter, and I grinned into the harsh wind, the sound that left me growing louder and louder until it stuck in my throat.
When the first tear came, the ship slowed, winding gently between stone islands that peeked through the brackish water.
I slapped my hand over my mouth, but it was useless. The whispers and looks and the disdain filling not only the karls’ faces but the other heirs’ haunted me. A vicious sob wrangled out of my mouth. When I remembered Viljan’s terror and despair next, so tangible I could feel it in my marrow, there was no stopping the rest. I sobbed so hard I gagged, and my fingers went numb from gripping the railing to keep my body upright.
I wasn’t sure if I was crying for Lika and my father. Or for my people, who had such little hope but kept it all the same. Or for Viljan, who’d sworn to protect me and who stood helpless by my side. Or for the karls, who’d expected a strong heir but who got me—a girl they believed thought nothing of them, who didn’t even deem them worthy of fighting.
Perhaps all of them.
