The final girl was tall with freckles covering not only her entire face, but also her tanned shoulders. Her hair was dark red like mine, but her eyes were gray. When my gaze drifted past her, she smiled, and it felt like the first real smile I’d seen since I came here,apart from Ivren’s.
Guner took his time staring at the crowd facing us.
I remained relaxed—not only because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing my nose still ached, and that beneath the calm I was ready should he try to strike me again, but also because I wouldn’t mind being paired up with any of the girls.
The king’s second turned to me once more, and when tension tightened his features, I smiled. His brows lifted. Only for a second, but enough for me to know that had been a mistake.
Guner’s face betrayed nothing, though, as he ordered, “Havskold, come here.”
I waited for one of the girls to step forward, so when Kilia, one of the silver-haired twins Ivren had warned me about last night, stalked over, his brother grinning menacingly behind him, unease twisted my gut.
If Viljan had been pale before, it was nothing compared to his complexion now. When my guard turned from the twin to me, it was as if the sun’s rays didn’t reach him, as if they danced over a ghost. Ivren’s smile melted off his face, but the man he was tied to stopped him from coming to my side.
Rakkel was also pulled away by her partner, her eyes wide, and the girl with the magenta strands became very interested in the sea creatures carved into the wooden railing of the ship instead of me.
I backed into the railing, feeling it hum beneath my skin. But where I sought support, the wood provided none. It was quiet, a slow thrum like a heartbeat surging through it. As if it wasn’t certain whether to be excited or apprehensive.
Guner dipped his eyes to the hands I’d spread across the carved wood before lifting them to my own. “Darcke, do us the honors?”
Darcke had lingered by Rakkel, and the warrior was the only one on the ship who remained at ease, playing with the rope he’d meant to tie me and the other female heir together.
When Kilia came to stand opposite me, forcing my head back to meet his eyes, the tension in the ocean-tanged air thickeneduntil it became difficult to breathe. His eyes were cold—indifferent—but for a spark of hatred shining through, almost like an amber flame surrounding his irises.
“Hello, Lika’s sister,” he drawled.
I didn’t like that he sounded like a warrior who’d managed to catch the predator stalking his village, or like a proud fisherman coming back with a full ship after a day’s haul. Darcke shoved the twin to my side and started tying our wrists together, ignoring how the karl vibrated from excitement.
I doubted Guner had ever smiled so widely. “I just remembered,” he said. “Your sister was quite close to Lika, wasn’t she, Kilia?”
My skin burned where Kilia’s touched it, the hair all over my body standing at end at the threat that radiated from the muscled karl.
This? What Guner was doing? It wasn’t because I’d been rude, or because he felt snubbed by the Sweengards for sending a different heir.
My skin pebbled when the king’s second laughed, because the way Kilia licked his lips after sharing a glance with his brother…
I had a feeling I was about to be in all kinds of danger.
I didn’t dare look at Viljan when Kilia dragged me closer, until my entire body lined up with his, so instead I focused on the man finishing up the knot that chafed my wrist.
Darcke’s long fingers worked the rope until an intricate binding sealed me and Kilia.
Only when he was finished did his face lift to mine. It was almost reassuring to see his arrogant brows raise. His eyes, which looked black in certain lights but now were a rich, dark brown, blinked with boredom before he walked off.
“Good.” I jerked when Guner clapped his hands. “With these favorable winds, we’ll be at Svartoarna soon. I suggest you spend the time getting to know each other if you don’t already.” He turned to Darcke. The warrior had gone to rest against the railing, his head turned to the wind, the short, light strands blowingaround his angled face. “Darcke, collect the karls’ weapons. The king doesn’t want anyone to rely on steel.”
As initiates began shuffling around the deck, most missed Darcke ignoring the king’s second, his body turned to the sea as if he saw something the rest of us missed.
“Darcke?” Guner echoed.
The man didn’t turn Guner’s way as he replied, “No.”
“No?” Guner’s jaw clenched.
“No,” Darcke said again. “I don’t feel like it.”
It was quiet for a few long moments, and even though some initiates had struck up conversations, it was impossible to miss the strained silence between the two. Murmurs turned into whispers, and several coupled initiates shuffled further into the middle of the ship, avoiding the stray drops of salt splashing up on the sides.
Guner opened and closed his mouth a few times before he grumbled something incoherent. “Torden,” he growled.
