I hadn’t said anything about the boy who’d killed Ottoh, and as I went to open my mouth now, I hesitated.
What did it matter? Darcke was right. The karls had been after us since we set foot on Nordoen. And that was the king’s fault too.
“I don’t know if we should be speaking of this,” Vero said, her thin fingers gripping the railing.
“We probably shouldn’t,” I said, watching Darcke steer the ship toward the aurora’s bends and curves as it wound across the sky. “But if not us, then who?”
Geord came up as well, and as the wind picked up, he cleared his throat. “If I knew I’d risk my life every fucking day in the Hird, I wouldn’t have put myself forward as heir.”
“It won’t stop at the Hird,” Ivren said. “The king is training us to go out and conquer more land—to continue expanding our borders. We’ll risk our lives every day for the rest of our lives under Gustief and his greed. These attacks are not contained to Nordoen, and it’s not ending with the people we just killed. Not if we don’t do anything.”
I felt my father’s and brother’s eyes on me as I nodded.
Touching the inside of Darcke’s ship, I sensed her purr to life beneath my fingers.
Do youthink they’re proud of me?
Do you think they’re walking with their heads held high in Valhalla?
The ship didn’t answer, but there was comfort in the way she hummed a melody that was so familiar that I had to close my eyes—like we were only going out on a regular scouting tour instead of heading to the gods’ reckoning.
“What are we supposed to do?” Vero asked. “Whatcanwe do?”
There was a sharpness in her tone that hadn’t been there before, one I felt inside me as well. Something happens when one breaks so viciously—a permanent change to the soul that forever chafes beneath your skin.
“The king has ruled long and hard,” Ivren said into the wind. “And he’s trading Viking lives for a crown that’ll never be heavy enough for him.”
Five heartbeats hammered as one when Ivren stopped speaking. I felt each one as if it were my own. There was a silent understanding binding us together, a weight on our shoulders that we, and we alone, had to carry. A responsibility for our five fylkis and each person making them up.
“We need to stop him,” I whispered.
Every pair of eyes drew my way, but I didn’t cower. I stared straight at them, anchoring my words until each chin dipped. Even Geord’s.
“How?” Geord asked.
“In the Great Halls, magic is suppressed,” Ivren continued. “We will be equals.”
Geord’s eyes narrowed. “They have more men.”
Ivren turned to the king’s ship, where more than a dozen of his men strolled about. “For now.”
A chill snaked along my neck at the familiar faces on the king’s ship.
But victory demanded its share of the dead. My father always reminded me that we could not win without bleeding, andsometimes that spilled blood would hurt more than we expected, but we had to do it for our people anyway.
Geord bowed his head while Rakkel and Vero straightened.
There wasn’t a sense of camaraderie.
There never would be amongst heirs and chiefs who would walk on the other’s cold bodies to get ahead—to protect their people. But there was an agreement, one we couldn’t speak out loud but that was heard over the waves all the same.
Darcke’s presence made my skin tingle, and I shot Ivren a look. My brother’s friend’s posture remained relaxed as he angled his head toward the sea, his words nearly lost. “There might come a time today when we must pick a side. I hope we all choose the right one.”
I will not be a coward.
I repeated the words to myself as Darcke reached us, something disapproving weaving on his features—a sense I had no doubt he’d feel a thousandfold if he knew what we were thinking, what we were planning.
“We’re almost there,” Darcke said, his attention on me.
