“Nothing you haven’t done already with Svend, Balder, Hammond, or Geir!”
She laughs soundlessly again, shoulders quaking. Then, she takes my hand. The rain has stopped, and a breeze twists through her hair, drying it in pretty waves around her shoulders.
Another sign.
I’m sorry.
“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled. I just—it’s been so difficult.”
She smiles softly and tugs me along. We start again in the direction of Katrine’s home, and I don’t protest, traveling to the south and west. The grass is soft beneath our feet, and though the trees are few and far between, it’s easyto believe it’s simply us, the summer-ruined grass, and the stars.
When she looks to me again, it’s to mouth something else.
I do feel better.
“Really?”
She nods.
Alia plants a kiss on my cheek.I think it worked.
“Really?” I ask again. There wasn’t anything I could feel on my end. I don’t know what I expected—maybe a shock like a lamp taking flame or lightning coursing through the sky.
But I’m a vessel for the love. Maybe it only matters whatshefeels. My uncertainty is most certainly annoying to her.
YES, she scream-mouths, arms wide to the sky.
“Okay then, it’s just so—”
A pistol shot cracks through the calming night around us.
We both dive for the ground, unsure where the bullet came from or where it’s going, knowing only that it’s meant for us. Rainwater clings to each blade of grass, and when my face hits, it’s like a spray of cold water to my temples. The back of my head throbs accordingly.
I lift up enough to see a flash of fire just before the report of another shot. They’re close. Much closer than expected. And coming fast. We can’t stay on the ground.
Our hands find each other at the same time, and we get to our feet, running perpendicular to the shot. They’ll have to change course and aim to get us now. There’s a stand of trees in the distance—clearly a marking for where one farmer’s land meets its neighbor.
Another bullet rings through the air. This one is so close, its white-hot heat burns past me. I brace for its companion, the other guard lining up his shot, but I have to keep moving. The trees don’t seem to be getting any closer.
The guards are too far for me to spell them asleep like the ones at the courtiers’ garden. What can I—
The second shot finally cracks through the air.
I turn, and again, it’s like time slows, the image of the bullet and its trajectory clear in my mind—the last one came for me, so this one will come for Alia.
I throw a hand out over her back and scream the only spell I can think of that might be of any help at all.“Skjoldr!”
Invisible, yet solid, a shield spreads out from my hand, despite the distance I’ve felt from my magic. The bullet hits, just above my hand. Right between Alia’s shoulder blades. And then it falls to the ground.
I stop running and turn to these faceless men in the dark, both hands out now.
“Skjoldr! Skjoldr! Skjoldr!”
The men are moving in fast, but the shield does its job, standing warm and strong the whole length and width ofmy body. It’s not perfect cover, only working on one side, but it’ll do.
Behind me, Alia has stopped running and circled back, crouching within my wingspan.
Several shots ping off me, falling dead on the grass. The men are close enough now that they appear blue instead of black in the dark, their uniforms meant to look sharp and intimidating in a castle setting, but imperfect for tracking prey in the countryside.
