Ottoh came strolling into the hearth, a black eye painting his face. “Is that why my mother’s ship is calling to me from the harbor? Please tell me we’re not traveling to some other gods-damned island.”
“What?” Rakkel asked weakly from where she pushed up to sit on the cot, throwing her legs over the side. “No! Can’t we get a few days’ rest? Everyone isn’t even back yet.”
“Everyone who made it is,” Guner snarled as he stormed through the doors.
My shoulders tensed, and I averted my eyes from Darcke when Ivren whispered, “We must have lost over a third of the initiates.”
“The heir can count,” Darcke drawled. “I thought you had someone to do it for you.”
Torden smacked his shoulder. “Easy.” He nodded to Guner before continuing. “The ones who survived but didn’t make it back in time are being shipped off to their fylkis again as they do not have what it takes to become warriors, iron-bound, or heirs. The king doesn’t want to waste any time this year.”
“What’s the rush?” Ottoh asked.
It was silent for a long, awkward beat. A restless energy rippled through the hearth, and Torden wrung his hands, while Guner’s gaze remained buried in the soot-stained floor. Only Darcke kept his eyes level, his features carved into his usual dark, mocking mask of amusement and spite. It was quite an unnerving sight.
“The enemies,” I said slowly when the king’s second shared a long look with his warriors. “That’s the rush? This… the attack on Rakkel wasn’t the first time, was it?”
Viljan coughed, and when I looked athim, he gave a violent shake of his head. But they wouldn’t know what had happened back at Oenskan—not from only a question. Still, the way Guner’s jaw tensed made my chest constrict.
“The king wants the choosing over with,” Guner snapped. “He wants to know who he’ll be dealing with in the future. The heir replacing Adrion has been selected, and he needs to see him interacting with others.”
“Wait,” Rakkel’s partner said from where she’d taken a seat on a cot opposite me. “Is she right? Are our enemies here? Have they come all the way to Nordoen?”
Guner ignored her. Despite Darcke’s murderous expression, Viljan sidled up beside him, and my guard captured my eyes. Only the vein at his temple revealed the turmoil inside him.
I pretended to wipe my nose, turning away from the king’s second and the others.
“They’re hiding something,” I mouthed so only my guard could see.
Viljan only inclined his head an inch, but Darcke still stiffened.
They were definitely hiding something.
“Why are you not answering us?Arethey here?” I asked again, pretending not to notice Viljan’s teeth grinding together so loudly that Ivren and Fedic frowned.
“If I were you, I’d focus more on the training and less on stupid fucking questions,” Guner growled. “You barely survived the wolves.”
“She doesn’t know any better,” Darcke drawled. “These silver-spoon heirs… they expect everything to be served to them like a fine meal, carved and deboned.”
“I—”
“I said enough,” Guner screamed as his face reddened. “A’lian is right. You are expected to do the work,heir.”
“I’ll do the work,” I snapped. “But I’m just asking?—”
Ivren pulled me back against his chest when the king’s second and the warrior made a sudden movement toward us.
“I doubt they have managed to get all the way here. There is no way they could get past Darcke’s men at the borders. They’re too skilled.” He leaned in until he could hide his face in my hair, lowering his voice into the quietest of whispers. “Careful, darling. We’ve already lost one heir today.”
The expressions on the people standing around the hearth were baffling.
Guner and Darcke looked about ready to snap my neck. Torden seemed almost as if he was in pain. Rakkel and her guard were pale, and so was Viljan as he whipped his head back and forth, trying to understand what was going on. Ottoh seemed equal parts confused and bored.
I clenched my jaw.
The way they reacted only made me more anxious to understand what was going on.
If our enemies were going around attacking initiates here at the Hird, shouldn’t we know?
