Chapter 10

DAELLA

Once the ceremony was over, the crowd’s exuberance only surged more. Music piped through the small market square, and the dancing began. Everyone split into groups, chattering and laughing the morning away. Rivelin, on the other hand, led me to the side of a building where he leaned against the rough timber wall and just stood there staring off into the distance.

I propped my hands on my hips, careful to avoid touching the ice shard, and cocked my head. “Is there a reason we’re lurking in the shadows instead of mingling with everyone else?”

“I’m waiting for my sister. She’ll be here soon, and then we’ll get started on making our boat.” His voice was dull—bored.

“For someone who just got chosen to participate in the Games, you seem pretty underwhelmed. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were annoyed.”

“I don’t like these ceremonies or big groups of people.”

“I see. Is there anything you do like?”

“What?”

I sighed. “A lot of things annoy you. So what do you like?”

He reached down to his side, where Skoll eagerly accepted his pat on the head. “I like Skoll, and I like forging steel. And I like my sister. That’s about it.”

“That’s really it?” I almost felt sorry for him. “This world is full of beautiful things.”

“I’m not entirely sure I agree, so I’ll stick with my three.”

“You can like whatever you want. It’s just a shame.” I shrugged. “But the scents of this place…the baking bread that curls around you like a hug. The blooming flowers and the fresh grass. The birdsong and the laughter of children that fills the air. The soothing warmth of the sun on your face. All of it just reminds me I’m alive. And I will relish that. We’re lucky to experience any of this. Life is a gift far greater than anything your island could give us.”

I felt his eyes on me, and a moment passed.

“You’re pretty poetic, for a murk,” he said.

I sighed. “I told you, I’m not a—”

“Rivelin!” a woman called out.

A bright-eyed, silver-haired elf bustled toward us, dragging a massive wagon behind her, its tires churning through the soft dirt. She looked so much like her brother, tall and clear skinned and achingly beautiful. But where he wore a frown like it was permanently carved into his face, her smile was like a new summer’s day.

A pair of brown trousers hugged her curvy frame, and she wore a pair of sturdy leather boots. She’d have to, dragging that wagon behind her. It was as large as a cottage. I had to admit, I was impressed by her strength.

At the sight of her, Rivelin visibly brightened for the first time since I’d met him. Smiling, he opened his arms as the elven woman dropped the wagon yoke and rushed toward him. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in for a hug, but when her eyes caught sight of me, she stopped and swatted at his arm.

I braced myself for her reaction. Just like everyone else in this village, she’d know who I was and where I came from. Even without Isveig’s sigil, I stood out in a world where half-orcs were a rarity. Her eyes flicked up and down, but then she held out a hand and smiled.

“Hello. I’m Rivelin’s sister, Lilia. Are you…” She slid her gaze sideways at her brother with merriment dancing in her eyes. “Well, I don’t know how else to put this. Are you his lady friend?”

“No,” he cut in with a frown. “This is Daella Sigursdottir.”

I braced myself. If she hadn’t known who I was before, she did now.

“Lovely name,” she said in a singsong voice. “For a lovely orc. I’d say it’s a shame my brother isn’t courting you, but it’s probably for the best. He can be a bit of a grump.”

The corners of my lips twitched. “Only a bit?”

She laughed and elbowed Rivelin’s side. “I keep thinking he’ll cheer up if he meets someone. You sure you aren’t interested? He—”

“Lilia,” Rivelin said.

“Oh, come on. Don’t frown at me like that. I’m just trying to look out for you.” She glanced up at the ash on his forehead, her eyes widening. “You finally got chosen for the Games.”

“And it’s about fucking time.”

“Gregor?”

His eyes darkened. “You were right. He’s in it again.”

“He has to be cheating. No one else has ever been chosen more than once.”

“How? He has no Fildur sand to fake the flames. I checked.”

Lilia shook her head, her brows pinched. “I refuse to believe Freya legitimately blessed him a third time in a row, especially after what he asked for last time.”

“You mean the lover thing, don’t you?” I asked.

“Rivelin told you about that? Good.” She nodded. “He’ll probably try to go after you next, and he’s persistent. Anyway, enough about bastards. Riv, where can I set up shop?”

“I’ll go clear some space in the square for you.” Just before he turned to go, he clasped her shoulder, and that rare smile returned to his face. “I’m glad you’re here. Don’t make it so long next time, eh?”

She beamed at him. “I make no promises. The Traveling Tavern goes where it’s needed.”

Rivelin moved off to find somewhere for her wagon, his broad frame pushing through the crowd. I couldn’t help but watch him. Even though there were a variety of demons and other elves, he somehow managed to tower over everyone else, and the bright morning sun illuminated the silver in his hair.

Lilia cleared her throat. “So how long have you known my brother?”

I dragged my gaze away from him. Lilia was pulling her long hair back from her face and fanning her neck. It was a hot day already. I felt it deep in my bones, but it didn’t bother me quite the same way, as long as I was wearing the right clothes.

“About twelve hours,” I said.

“Twelve hours? That certainly explains why he’s never mentioned you before.”

“I was in a shipwreck, and I washed up on shore last night. Rivelin…found me.”

Her eyes widened. “Fate be damned, are you all right?”

I rubbed at my arms, still sore from all the rain. “I survived.”

“Freya must have been smiling down on you for you to have survived the Elding. Listen, you deserve a fun evening after what you’ve been through, and my brother probably isn’t going to give you one. Stop by my tavern tonight when the sun goes down, and I’ll give you a drink on the—”

“Lilia.”

The elf’s face went bone white as Gregor sauntered out from behind the rear of the wagon. His eyes zeroed in on her, sweeping across her curves and the cleavage highlighted by her low-cut tunic. Lilia’s entire demeanor seemed to change in a breath. Her body went taut. Her eyes went hard. Tense lines bracketed her lips.

I shifted a little closer to her, my hand instinctively going to my belt. But there was no dagger there, of course. That damned Rivelin.

Gregor slowed to a stop only an inch from Lilia. With a wicked smile, he propped one hand against the wagon and leaned in to whisper into her ear. I didn’t hear his words, but I had a pretty good idea of what was said. Lilia hissed through clenched teeth and then slapped his cheek.

He flinched and reached for her wrist, but before he could touch her, I was there. I slid between the two of them, palmed his chest, and then shoved him up against the wagon with the lethal speed and dexterity I’d honed over the years.

“You can’t do this,” he growled. “This kind of assault is against the law here.”

I smiled as he tried to shove against me. “I know violence is frowned upon in this village, but the thing is, I’m not from here. Now leave the girl alone, eh? I’d hate to cause a scene in your idyllic utopia.”

“You heard her. Get out of here Gregor,” a gruff voice said from behind me. My chest tightened. Rivelin was back. No doubt I would get reprimanded thoroughly for this. I just hoped he wouldn’t decide to kick me off his Midsummer Games team because of it.

I dropped my hand to my side and stepped back, flashing Gregor a tight smile as he snarled and stalked away. And then I braced myself as I turned to face Rivelin’s wrath.

His hard gaze met mine. I held myself still as he took a step toward me. He looked as if he were ready to rip the world apart. But then he lifted a gloved hand to his forehead, rubbed the soot with his thumb, and then reached out to me. His thumb swept across my forehead, the leather soft against my skin, and everything within me went painfully tight. I held my breath, heart thundering, until his hand dropped back to his side.

“Thank you for that.” He turned to his sister. “I take it you’re all right?”

She nodded, though her face was still pale. “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks, Daella, though I’m sorry you had to do that. He’ll have his eye on you now, and he doesn’t forget things easily. He hasn’t left me alone since I turned down his advances last Midsummer.”

“It’s fine. I have a lot of experience dealing with bastards like him.”

Rivelin gave me another considering look, the kind that felt like he could see straight through me. Based on everything he’d said to me so far, he probably thought I’d only stood up for Lilia to gain his trust, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. My instincts had taken over the second Gregor had wandered out from behind the wagon.

“Let’s go get you set up, Lilia,” Rivelin said, reaching for the wooden yoke that jutted out of the front of the wagon. “Everyone’s excited the Traveling Tavern is here. They can’t wait to have some of your signature brew.”

Together, the elven brother and sister pulled the wagon to a corner of the square, where a crowd was already gathering. I started toward them to help when the intoxicating scent of dragon washed over me. My heart jerked into my throat as I whirled in the direction of the breeze, trying to pinpoint the source of it. But then it was gone, almost like a dream.

Pressing my lips together, I fought to remain calm, even as that old familiar fear burned through my veins, flushing my cheeks. In the excitement of the ceremony and from the magic of the morning air, I’d loosened the grip on my priorities. I’d forgotten why I was here. The people of this village might seem decent, but they were hiding a secret that could burn the whole world down.

* * *

An hour later, Rivelin took me down a winding dirt path that led out of the village. He went back to his gruff silence, and I went back to covertly searching for any sign of dragon magic. If he was a Draugr, there should be signs. There always was. His eyes could show a hint of it—a flash of orange when he got angry. His skin might feel hotter than expected, even on a summer day. The smell was an obvious indicator, but except for that earlier whiff, the pungent odor was nowhere to be found now.

I thought about reaching out to brush my fingers across his arm, but…my chest tightened at the idea. No, I would not be doing that, thank you.

“So,” I said, our boots crunching on some fallen leaves as we passed beneath the lush canopy of the woods near the village. “You’re a blacksmith.”

“Very clever observation.”

“Curious profession, what with all the heat and fire. Elves have an affinity with water. Don’t you have some strands of Vatnor magic in your blood?”

“A little. But I like the way heat feels against my hands.”

A strangled cough scraped from my throat, and I tried to hide it by stumbling on a tree root and falling flat on my face. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the best idea. Pain radiated through my cheek, where it had hit the ground hard. Rivelin wrapped a gloved hand around my arm and hauled me to my feet, our chests brushing because of the closeness. His fingers pressed into me. Even through the gloves, I could tell they were warm and strong but not blazing hot like a Draugr’s.

And he held on, still, even though I was back on my feet.

I swallowed.

He shifted closer. I tipped back my head to keep his eyes in my field of vision, taking note of the ripple in his jaw and the slight flare of his nostril.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” His breath whispered across my skin, nearly making me shudder.

I tried to take a step away from him, but my back hit a tree. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play coy. You’re trying to root out information to take back to your emperor. You are a mercenary, Daella. You even admitted you signed his contract.”

“And I told you. It wasn’t by choice.”

“It’s always by choice.”

“Not when you’re me,” I insisted, fisting my hands. “His army destroyed the last of the orcs, and there weren’t that many of us in the first place. Do you really think I would want to work for a monster like that?”

“They say you live in his castle—that you’re his protected little pet.”

I flinched. His attention zeroed in on me, like he’d noticed the reaction.

“I’ve lived in the castle most of my life. Before he came along, I was a serving girl for the king; a very kind, very generous orc. My parents were killed when I was young, and he took me in. Isveig used to visit the castle with his family. We were…friends. And so when he took Fafnir as his, he spared my life—but not my freedom. He keeps me hidden away in a tower when I’m not out on a quest for him. The doors are always locked. None of this was my choice.”

The words spilled out of me and left me breathless. With the rough bark scraping against my exposed skin, I lifted my chin and silently dared Rivelin to make another snide remark about my willingness to become one of Isveig’s murks. I didn’t know why I even cared. I didn’t need his approval.

I did need his trust, though.

Still, the idea he might laugh in my face made my heart twist into shredded ribbons. I was not the person he believed me to be, and I desperately wanted him to see it. If he trusted me, maybe he’d lower his defenses a bit, and I could find out where the Draugr were hiding—and if he was one, too.

He exhaled and stepped back, his eyes hooded. “Isveig kept you in captivity?”

“Look at me. I’m half-orc. The only reason he didn’t have me killed was because we were friends once.”

“And all those quests you do for him…?”

The ice shard throbbed in my hip. “If I don’t follow his orders, he’ll make sure I never take another breath.”

He ground his teeth and moved away, running his fingers through his silken silver strands. “I shouldn’t believe you. This could be some story you’ve made up to gain my trust.”

“You’re right. It could be.”

“He sent you here.”

“No, he sent me to the Glass Peaks.”

“Why?”

I folded my arms. “Why do you think?”

“To track down Draugr. That’s what you do. It’s what you’re good at. Don’t try to pretend it’s not.”

“Oh, I am excellent at it. Is that a problem?”

“It is when it gets innocents killed.”

“Innocents?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Please. I’ve seen what Draugr can do. The magic burns them up, along with everyone else who made the mistake of being near them.”

His eyes swept across my face, and I took the opportunity to search the yellow for any sign of that fire. The kind that consumed someone until there was nothing left of them but ash. Those who used the magic—even just once—became corrupted by it. It was impossible to turn away once you had a taste of it. I understood why. The power of it was intoxicating, far greater than even the four elements combined.

Rivelin towered over me. He pulled a dagger from his belt and pressed the tip against my chin. The sharp point dug into my skin, but I did not flinch away. I just kept my hard, steady gaze on his face.

“Do you know why I’m here?” he asked with lethal quiet.

I swallowed, my throat bobbing against the blade. “To win the Midsummer Games.”

“No.” He leaned in closer. “I’m here to protect the Isles. That includes the Glass Peaks. And I’ll protect them from anyone Emperor Isveig sends our way.”

“So then he’s right. There are Draugr in those mountains. Why would you ever want to defend them? Don’t you know what they can do?”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t let you walk away from this.”

“And yet you still haven’t shoved the tip of that dagger into my neck.”

With a growl, he dropped the blade and slammed it into the sheath. “Only because I vowed never to spill blood here unless mortally provoked.”

“So you didn’t bring me into the secluded woods to stab me? That’s a relief, though I think you’ll find I’m not that easy to kill.”

“We need to collect some wood for the boat.”

“Ah yes, for the competition you want me to help you win, just after you threatened me with your dagger.”

“I don’t trust you,” he grunted.

“I don’t trust you, either, especially after that.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

He narrowed his gaze. “You say you’ve spent your entire life in captivity, except when you’re out on quests?”

“Yes. Lucky me.”

“On these quests of yours, did you ever spend an evening at a tavern?”

I blinked at him. “Pardon?”

“Have you ever gone out for the night, drinking and dancing at a tavern?”

“Only a moment ago, you were poking my chin with your dagger, and now you want to know if I’ve ever been out drinking?”

“Well?” He arched a brow. “What’s the answer?”

“The answer is no, Rivelin. Isveig always sent guards with me. Or mercenaries, depending on what he was after. They never let me out of their sight.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Best get moving, then. We have a lot of wood to gather, if we want to make it back on time.”

“Time for what?” I asked, but he moved down the path without answering.