“What do you mean?” Ilse asked.
I shook my head, swallowing the rest of my words at Viljan’s frantic shake of the head. A strain wove across the glen, all of us staring suspiciously at each other.
I guessed it made sense. Someone on this island was helping them. That much was clear.
“Stay together,” Torden said as Ivren first, then Ilse, then Viljan and I spun to the Hird. “Our men will be patrolling the longhouse, but we don’t know if there are more of them out here.”
“Stay out of the woods tonight,” Darcke barked, his eyes on me.
I pressed my lips together as I avoided both his and Torden’s gazes.
There was no way I’d sleep in the longhouse.
There might be a few enemies stalking the dark.
But in the light I had so many more.
Twenty
Iheld my chin high as I followed Ottoh through the woods to the lake we’d dived into last night. Ivren walked behind me, with Rakkel and Geord not far behind. I wrenched a breath past my clenched teeth when my brother’s friend placed a hand on my shoulder, trying to offer me whatever comfort he could.
Even though it was dusk, the sky was bright. I blinked when the soft stars did, hoping that whoever looked down upon me would forgive me for everything I’d done so far in the name of guarding my father’s legacy.
The smell of grass was accompanied with that of burning wood, and as we broke through the tree line, smoke twirled up toward the sky from the five pyres burning before the dock where the crown’s ship rested. The king stood in the bow, and we bent our necks before coming to a halt before the crowd that was spread out across the dock and beneath the ship. Every face was dark with war paint, and in every throat a muted song vibrated, seeping through the night.
My hands shook when the Vikings began stomping one foot, then another, emphasizing the sound resounding in their chests. I stiffened for a second when a horn was blown, the battle cry settling itself somewhere deep in my bones.
“Welcome,” the king called as the glen fell silent. “Welcome to the choosing.”
I shared a look with Ivren as Darcke and the other warriors came up behind the king and stood like a lethal five-man army, guarding his kingdom with their deadly gazes.
“You’ll be all right,” Ivren whispered.
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” I joked quietly.
He turned his head, and for a second something twisted my insides.
But I would be all right. I’d survived so far, and even though Viljan didn’t agree with my decision to include Kilia in my iron-bound, he would forgive me. He always forgave me.
Viljan was standing to the right, almost at the end of the watching crowd, and while he didn’t look my way, he was tracking my every movement. His body moved when mine did, a silent consequence of the training that neither his anger nor his pride could break.
Ottoh strolled up to my side, his usual smirk causing deep lines in his sun-kissed face. “What did you do now?” He tsked. “Not good, Sweengard. Not good.”
“Shut up,” I whispered as the king once again threw out his arms.
Ottoh’s brows lifted. “So rude. You’ve already made so many enemies. I would think you’d try to beniceto those of us who can still stand to talk to you.”
“Even in death, I wouldn’t dream of being nice to you,” I mumbled.
“We’ll see about that.” He smiled. “With the pace you’ve made enemies, I’d venture we’ll actually see about that very soon.”
Ivren’s fingers ran down my side until I was forced to soften my stiff posture. “He’s just scared of you, Sweengard. Don’t let him get to you.”
“I wonder who is actually the one scared of her,” Ottoh taunted. “The way you follow her like a starving hound?—”
When the king began speaking, I turned as if I needed tocough and drove a fist into Ottoh’s face. His choked sound of pain was drowned by the slow thudding of feet against grass as the king explained the choosing. I whirled forward again, hiding my smile when Darcke glared at me while Torden, beside him, covered his laugh with his hand.
“Blood.”
