The heir was in his arms, and her eyes were closed as Stefen placed her on the cot beside us. Her chest moved rapidly up and down, and blood trickled out of her mouth, weaving down her long neck.
“What happened?” Ivren demanded. “When I saw her, she was fine.”
Viljan’s face darkened, but a low voice interrupted whatever he’d been about to say.
“We were attacked when we swam the final stretch.” It was the girl with the purple-tinted hair and the eyes as dark as the ocean she was referring to. “It was like they knew who we were. They went straight for Rakkel.” She nodded toward Viljan and Stefen. “Even these two brutes couldn’t stop them.”
“Of course they knew her,” Ivren said. “She’s an heir.”
“But they weren’t initiates.” The girl shook her head. “They weren’t dressed as Vikings. I don’t know. We were far from Svartoarna by the time they came for us.”
“I don’t think they were from there,” Stefen said. “They could not have escaped the ships. Only initiates were allowed to leave.”
The fire sparked in the silence. Kilia and I had also had to pass the ships where the king’s men had stood with their spears, watching every stroke and every line of our faces to ensure we weren’t the prisoners Gustief wished to keep on that cursed island.
“Who were they, then?” I asked.
“Enemies.” Darcke came walking into the hearth. “Who saw their faces?”
Stefen and Rakkel’s partner raised their hands.
“What about you?” Darcke asked Viljan.
My guard made a noncommittal sound.
“Answer me,” Darcke demanded.
“Yes,” Viljan grumbled. “I saw their faces.”
My laughter didn’t shock only me but quieted our entire side of the longhouse.
“What’s funny?” the warrior asked quietly. There wasn’t asingle sign that he’d broken the rules for me a few days ago—not an ounce of the respect I thought I’d read in the way his fingers had moved so assuredly when he tied me and Kilia together.
I could have answered several ways. Watching him and Viljan glare at each other, and not knowing which one of them could brood the hardest. Seeing the still-reddened skin around Darcke’s straight nose and knowing it was the result of my well-placed boot. Reading the confusion in both men’s eyes as they tried to understand what went on in my mind.
But I voiced none of them. I wished to sleep before my life was threatened again.
“Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing at all.”
Darcke came closer, and Fedic held his breath while Ivren’s hand moved to my thigh—as if that grip would somehow protect me from the warrior’s wrath.
“Watch it,” Viljan warned.
The dark chuckle quelled even the crackling from the fire. “Or what? You can’t even keep track of her for five minutes.” Darcke shook his head. “I could kill her right here and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”
I raised a hand when Viljan took a step toward the warrior. “I’ve got it.”
“Do you now?” One side of Darcke’s mouth lifted, and his eyes dipped to Ivren’s hand for a second before colliding with mine. “I’ve been patient with you.”
“Have you now?” I couldn’t help responding, echoing his tone. “I wouldn’t want to find out what you being impatient meant, then.”
There was a storm in Darcke’s eyes, and I leaned into Ivren when his nostrils flared. Darcke’s face went impossibly harder, his knuckles whitening where his hands hung by his sides.
“Unfortunately no one has lived to see that side of Darcke.” Darcke’s smiling friend came up behind him and placed a hand on the warrior’s shoulder. “Well met, initiates. I’m Torden.”
It remained quiet. Ivren shuffled evencloser to me as a low sound resounded in Darcke’s chest, and Fedic subtly moved so his hands were free. Viljan also inched forward, his eyes on the neck of the warrior as if he couldn’t wait to strangle him.
Torden grimaced. “Well, this is cozy and all, but the king has ordered that the training continues, so I suggest you all sleep.”
