“I…” I covered my face with my hands as more tiredness swept through me. “I didn’t mean to.”
Rakkel nodded as she slipped out from the tree. “Still, I’d find a better hiding spot than that tree tonight. We’re not the only ones who know where you’re sleeping.” With a wag of her fingers she disappeared into the shadows, leaving me cold and exhausted, and with a tremor in my bones that remained all night.
Eleven
Iused my hand to block the sun from hurting my eyes when it reflected in the lake.
Around me hundreds of karls did the same as we waited for the king’s men to give us instructions. A yawn crept up on me, but for once I was grateful for the tiredness. I’d been up all night after Rakkel’s warning, and if I hadn’t, I would have missed the initiates spilling out of the longhouse, ready in their fighting gear at the sun’s first rays.
“You look about as excited as I feel.” Rakkel sidled up to me, her long brown hair fastened into a thick braid with a leather band holding it all together, a bone-white bow secured across her chest.
I gave her a look from under my lashes that made her laugh.
“Glad you took my warning seriously,” she said. “There were groups out searching for you all night.”
I know.I’d been forced to sneak from tree to tree to avoid them.
But I didn’t say that as Viljan came to my side, quietly facing the forest surrounding the western part of the lake. We hadn’t spoken since I ordered him away yesterday, and the strain between us chafed like new leathers.
I twisted a strand of my hair when Rakkel turned from Viljan to me, her brows raised. To stay awake in the early hours before dawn, I’d taken time to secure my crimson mane, keeping it from my face with several small braids fastened at the back with a bone comb while letting the rest flow free in the breeze.
My tired eyes were lined with kohl, and I’d even debated whether to use the battle paint representing my people but had ended up opting not to. I didn’t want to give anyone the idea I was looking for more trouble.
“There they are,” Rakkel mumbled before turning to me, lowering her voice. “Looking as frightening as usual.”
Caution pulled at my shoulders, and I straightened when Darcke and his men emerged from the tree line, their coal-smeared features, equally dark leathers, and fur-lined shoulders stark against the sun rising behind them.
“Would it kill them to smile?” I whispered.
“Probably,” Rakkel replied through her teeth. “Or perhaps it would be our lives that hung in the balance. I have a feeling Darcke’s smile is even more dangerous than his scowl.”
I nodded to Ottoh standing to the side with Adrion. “Maybe we can trick him into trying it out?”
Rakkel snorted, and even her guard posted behind her turned his head down.
“Does Fritiof Sweengard know his legacy rests in the hands of a witless gossip?”
My chin flew up at the raspy voice filled with equal parts warning and disdain.
Rakkel gave me a wide-eyed stare, and I swallowed hard before facing the man who’d spoken, nausea building in my gut at the look of outright disgust in his eyes.
Silver braids fell down a chest that wasn’t broad from battle and training anymore but from overindulgence and a life gorging on boar and ale, and the male’s pale eyes held nothing but viciousness. Guner Krigstad, the king’s second, towered over me, hatred marring his features.
Guner had been a karl when our king was growing up, but they’d been best friends, and when King Gustief’s father died, Guner was declared the royal second, brought home from years of battle and conquest on the front lines.
The position of royal second didn’t exist before Gustief invented it, and Guner had done everything in his power to solidify his place. It was rumored he’d killed men and women before—even jarls—to ensure they wouldn’t risk his seat by the king’s side.
He ran the summer trials and the Hird, and Guner was as ruthless as he was shrewd. Because he was one of the king’s men, he had access to all five runes, but he used them to gain favors instead of bettering our nation. The king didn’t seem to mind, though.
The power radiating off Guner wasn’t as intense as the king’s, but it was impossible to miss. I rolled my shoulder when the magic flitted over my skin in both a warning and a show.
“I guess I should have known after your theatrics all week,” Guner continued, and some of the warriors behind him snickered. “Walking into the Hird in the dress of our enemies? Refusing to fight your karls? Drawing such immense attention to yourself? Poor Fritiof. I thought he’d been unlucky with Lika, but you’re equally useless, aren’t you? Lika at least had the decency not to show up to training yawning, even if he was a disappointment all the same.”
His words hurt exactly where he’d intended, and I bit my cheek not to let it show.
Guner was known for his ruthless methods of tempering men and women. He didn’t teach; he hammered. Especially the heirs. He hated every legacy he was forced to train because he’d always wanted to become one. Instead, he’d always be the king’s hand but never his equal.
“I guess Lika didn’t show up at all in the end,” Guner continued. “Was it too much for the pampered boy? Your father always went too easy on him. Fooling around with women and blindlyfollowing his peers… Lika was never a leader.” He looked me up and down. “And neither are you.”
