Chapter 11

RIVELIN

Ifollowed Daella out of the woods, my arms loaded up with logs. Her hips swayed as she walked, the curves of her lower back tantalizing where they dipped into her well-fitting trousers. I tried not to look but fates be damned. She might be working for the enemy, but she looked delicious doing it.

Her story today had surprised me, and even though I knew it all might be a lie, I leaned toward belief. Isveig had always been a murderous bastard who had tried to paint his war crimes as noble and just. When he’d invaded Fafnir, he’d been “saving” the world from the dragons and their terrible magic.

He hated orcs. I’d always assumed he’d conquered Fafnir so easily because he had a spy in the court, someone who helped him learn their defenses and how to best them. That person had been Daella, or so I’d thought. Now I wasn’t so sure. The look in her eye…that flicker of pain and defiance. The haunted ghost of her fake smile.

It was impossible to feign that kind of pain. I would know.

When we reached the edge of the village, music and laughter already drifted through the air from the market square, where everyone had gathered to celebrate the evening away. Daella and I had been in the woods for hours, gathering branches and sawing logs. She’d spent the time helping me without complaint. In fact, she’d been uncharacteristically silent. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d taken it a bit too far with the dagger. I’d only been trying to get the truth out of her—see if a little extra intensity would get her mask to crack. She was an infamous murk, that kind of thing wouldn’t be new to her. I’d assumed she’d take it in stride.

And she had. Until the silence.

A strange sensation clenched my heart, and I frowned. There was no reason to feel guilty. Maybe Lilia’s arrival in Wyndale had made me softer than I usually was. That was the only logical explanation.

Back at my home, I unlocked the door to the shop on the ground floor. Hollowed out inside, the room held a brick forge along one wall, where I spent hours of my life surrounded by flickering sparks that filled the air like fireflies. Horseshoes and decorative bracelets hung along the timber beams, and my work table held various hammers and tongs. I motioned to an open spot on the floor beside the anvil.

“Just dump the logs there. I’ll sort it all out in the morning.”

The wood tumbled from her arms, logs thudding. “Nice shop.”

I pulled off my gloves and ran my hand along the smooth steel of the anvil, pride unexpectedly blooming in my chest. “I’ve worked real hard on it.”

“What do you make most of here?” she asked in a too-casual voice. That was when I caught the slight flare of her nostrils, quick as a snake. I kept my expression blank, but inside, my heart kicked my ribs. She should not be able to smell any hint of dragons, and yet…there was that flash in her eyes. That knowing glint.

I fought the urge to search the room for any clue as to what had set her off, but I forced myself to appear relaxed.

“A lot of horseshoes. Candlesticks are also a favorite around here, plus the wagons that roll in for every Midsummer Games always need new fixings.”

“Seems like such a waste, what with all this space and your tools. You could craft some incredible daggers and swords.”

“You and your fixation on weapons.”

“I have a right to be. You threw my mother’s dagger into the sea.”

I leveled my gaze at her. “I thought we were being more honest with each other now.”

“I swear to Freya that’s the truth. The dagger you stole from me was once my mother’s.”

“You don’t worship the Old Gods in Fafnir.”

She hissed at me—really hissed. “I’m tired of arguing with you. I’m going to bed.”

Daella, with her fierce, wild eyes and her vibrant intensity, spun on her feet toward the door. I caught her arm. The heat of her body seeped into my hands like a furnace. Steam hissed where we touched, and the collision of our skin sent a thick fog sweeping across us.

She glanced back at me, and her cheeks bloomed like spring flowers. “What’s happening?”

“I’m an elf from Edda. We have a bit of Vatnor magic in our blood, and orcs run hot, like you’ve said. Have you never touched an elf before?”

“No, I can’t say I have.” Her eyes narrowed. “You go around touching orcs on a regular basis?”

“Unfortunately not,” I drawled.

The pink of her cheeks deepened. “If all this is true, shouldn’t your touch burn me like fresh water does?”

“It seems not.” I cleared my throat. “I want to take you to Lilia’s tavern tonight.”

The thought had been rattling around in my head ever since she’d told me about her captivity. She’d never been out dancing, and she’d never spent the evening surrounded by rowdy storytellers and their booming laughter. Me, I’d rather sit in the quiet of my living room with the fire blazing and a book in my hand, but there was something in the way Daella carried herself that told me she’d enjoy the magic of these midsummer nights.

Not that her happiness mattered. But I’d promised the others to make her fall in love with this place, so she’d be less likely to tell Isveig about us once she returned to Fafnir. She’d already made it clear she didn’t care for her emperor. I was starting to think it wouldn’t take much to get her on our side. Hopefully. She seemed pretty dead set on hating dragons.

She scoffed. “You want to…take me to a tavern?”

“The Traveling Tavern. Everyone loves it.”

“You are a very confusing person, Rivelin the Blacksmith.”

“You’re going to be here for weeks. Might as well settle in and enjoy it.”

“Fine, let’s go to your sister’s tavern,” she said, swiping aside the steam still fogging the air. “Mind letting go of my arm now?”

I loosened my grip, and instantly, my hand felt cold. The heat of her had been far more welcome than I wanted to think about.

“Shall we go?” she asked in that fake chirpy voice of hers.

I motioned at the door. “After you.”

* * *

Almost everyone in the village had turned out for the celebration. Paper streamers looped from one end of the square to the other, and lanterns hung from the tree limbs that snaked overhead. Several wooden tables had been crammed into the space, and there wasn’t an open spot at any of them. Dozens of attendees wandered through the crowd or broke off into small groups to gossip the night away.

A small stage had been erected just beside Lilia’s tavern, where the dwarf bard stomped his foot and sang a tune about the Old Gods. Fireflies darted about, buzzing with the same cheerful energy as everyone else.

Beside me, Daella took it all in, her cheeks flushed. I’d noticed her looking around the village with that same expression a few times now. Her eyes snagged on my sister’s tavern, and a slight smile tugged the corners of her lips. I understood why. Lilia’s Traveling Tavern was infamous.

She lugged it with her everywhere she went—alone. Her wagon was heavy, but she was strong as fate, and unlike me, she seemed incapable of staying in the same place for long. Ever since we’d found our way to the Isles fourteen years ago, she’d gone from village to village, and even from island to island, searching for something I did not think she even knew.

The wagon itself was decorated with lanterns and silver tapestries that were embroidered with a sigil of two tankards clanking together. A matching awning hung over the open door that led down a set of wooden steps. She stored the extra tankards, ales, and spirits inside, but she had a bar set up outside. Several of the younger elves and dwarves of the village perched on top of the wagon. I knew Lilia didn’t like them hanging about up there, but she never reprimanded them. All she’d ever wanted was to make people smile.

We’d turned out so different, she and I.

“Well.” Daella’s fake smile spread across her face. Even now, there was no sign of a real one. “I can see why you thought I might want to come here.”

“Beats your tower, eh?”

“Everything beats my tower, but especially this. I doubt most taverns are so…”

“Bright and cheery.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled. “The opposite of you, really.”

“Which is why I’ll be leaving you here to enjoy yourself while I return home to start work on the boat. Stay as long as you like. I’ll leave the front door unlocked.”

Her hand snaked out, quick as lightning. She grabbed my arm before I could turn away. The heat of her blazed through me, and steam filled the space between us. “Not so fast. If anyone needs a night out enjoying themselves, it’s you.”

I leveled my gaze at her. “I don’t do parties.”

“Neither do I. And yet, you brought me here.”

“Because you’ll enjoy it.”

“Will I?” She motioned at the celebratory square with her free hand. “I don’t know anyone other than your sister, who looks very busy, and that bastard Gregor, who I’d rather avoid. So it looks like I’m stuck with you, and you’re stuck with me.”

I glanced down at her hand on my arm, at the steam hissing from our skin-to-skin contact. Her fingers were softer than I’d expected, and her smooth sage skin was so vibrant and alive next to my tan. So ridiculously beautiful.

I cleared my throat. “All right, I’ll stay, but you’ll likely regret it. I don’t like these kinds of things.”

“Maybe that’s why I want you to stay. I like the idea of tormenting you.” She winked and let go of my arm. The cold air that followed chilled me to the bone.

Without another word, she spun and took off into the party. I sighed and followed, slinging my hands into my pockets and wondering how deeply I’d regret this in an hour or two. As the night wore on, the drinks would flow and the raucous energy of the crowd would become unbearable. Every year, I’d listened to the sounds of it from my open bedroom window. And every year, I’d slammed that window down and tried to sleep despite the noise. I never did.

Daella approached the bar, and Lilia’s face visibly brightened, especially when she saw me in the background trying my damndest not to attract much attention. Every single person here knew I hated these kinds of things. I’d really rather they didn’t make a fuss.

“I can’t believe it,” my sister said in her trademark singsong, swiping her hands on her apron. “Freya’s fires must have frozen over, because that right there looks like my hermit of a brother.”

Daella laughed. “Inside that head of his, you just know he’s kicking and screaming.”

“How’d you do it?” Lilia asked as she grabbed two tankards from the rack behind her. She lifted the first to a barrel of her infamous brew and arched a brow at Daella.

“I threatened him with a dagger to his throat. Oh, wait. No, that was what he did to me. Something about being the big bad protector of this place.”

“Rivelin!” Lilia exclaimed, her frown drawing down the corners of her eyes. “You can’t just go around threatening people with daggers.”

Daella glanced over her shoulder and smirked. “See? Your sister agrees with me.”

“I think I’m going to head home now,” I said flatly.

“No, come on. I’m just messing around.” Daella passed one of the tankards to me and lifted hers, as if awaiting a toast, brushing aside the whole bit about the dagger. Clearly, it hadn’t upset her earlier. I felt relieved, then frowned. Why did it matter if it had?

“I think I might need to separate you two or you’ll make life unbearable.” Still, I took the offered tankard and knocked mine against Daella’s. Froth flowed over the side, coating my fingers, and Daella deftly avoided getting it on her skin. Then she stared at me expectantly, waiting for my toast. Something about the look in her eye made me momentarily forget my frustration.

“To…new alliances,” I said.

“To new alliances,” she repeated, and then she drank the whole thing down. When she finished, she gasped for air and then coughed, pounding her fist against her chest. Froth covered her top lip like a mustache, and a few droplets of the brew clung to her chin. She winced as if in pain.

“Ah.” I reached out and swiped the froth away. She stiffened beneath my touch, steam rising, but she didn’t flinch away. “You’ve got it on your face. You do know it’s more enjoyable if you just sip it, right?”

She stared up at me, her eyes bright, then rubbed the spot with her shirt. “No, I did not know that. I’ve never had ale before.”

“You’ve never—that is absolutely unacceptable,” Lilia interjected with a quick shake of her head. She snatched Daella’s empty tankard and poured her another drink. “The first one was on the house for you saving me from that bastard’s grubby hands. This one’s on the house because every woman deserves to have a little fun sometimes. Drink up and enjoy yourself tonight.”

“It’s different than what I expected,” Daella said, lifting the tankard to her lips and sniffing. “I heard ale was bitter, but this is quite sweet.”

“That’s Lilia’s brew for you,” I said with a smile. “It’s the best ale in all the Isles, maybe even beyond. I doubt any tavern in the Grundstoff Empire can compare.”

She nodded as she took a smaller sip this time. “I believe you must be right.”

A few other patrons stumbled up to the bar, and my sister shooed us away with a fond smile and an unfortunate wink in my direction. I knew what she was thinking. She’d said as much before. Daella was a beauty, and there was a spark about her. Lilia had always said I needed someone in my life like that. Someone with edges rough enough to understand me but soft enough to bring a little brightness into my ‘dreary hermit life’, as she liked to call it.

But what Lilia just didn’t understand was that I was happy on my own. I didn’t want or need anyone else other than Skoll. In fact, upending my life to make room for someone else would only get in the way of what I needed to do most in this world: protect Hearthaven and the other islands. And even more than that, I couldn’t risk trusting the wrong person, let alone one who worked for the emperor—even if they were forced to.

Still, I understood what Lilia saw in the half-orc. With the fireflies dancing around her head, their yellow glow illuminating her brilliant sage-green skin, she looked achingly beautiful tonight.

I cleared my throat and motioned at a nearby elf with long auburn hair. “That’s Kari. She’s one of the contestants this year. Smart as a whip.”

“Good to know. Who else?”

I scanned the crowd and picked out a purple-winged pixie chattering with her partner, a dwarf who, incidentally, had also been chosen this year. Should be interesting. “Those two are in it this year. The pixie’s name is Nina. She’s a firecracker who loves to cook. Her partner there, Hege, is a carpenter, and she’s stronger than she looks.”

“She looks pretty damn strong,” Daella said, taking another sip of her ale.

“Then we have Godfrey.” I pointed to the lanky human lurking by the bar. He was new to the village, and I didn’t know much about him. Then I shifted my attention to the fire demon, one of the earliest residents of Wyndale since the humans left. “And that’s Viggo. Strong, powerful, determined. I’d say he’s the most likely to win, other than me.”

“And Gregor of course,” Daella said.

“Yes, if he cheats.”

“And what’s the likelihood of that happening?”

“High. That’s why we’ll keep an eye on him.”

Suddenly, the bard began singing an upbeat tune, his voice wailing through the market square. Half of the folk crammed into the tables leapt to their feet and made space in the center for the dance floor. It was early in the night, but we’d already reached this point. Things were about to get rowdy.

Once there was a northern troll

Whose face looked like a big blue mole!

He pranced around as if to rule

But he was nothing but an icy fool!

Daella turned to me, her eyes sparkling. “This is about Isveig. I’ve heard rumors that people call him a mountain troll when they think they can get away with it.”

I nodded. “Bards are particularly fond of the nickname.”

“I have to dance to this,” she said in an excited whisper. “It’s too fun of a song to pass up.”

“You really do hate him,” I said with a bemused smile as she downed the rest of her drink.

After handing me her tankard, she joined the dance floor and spun in circles with the others. I found myself tapping my foot after a few moments, watching her whirl and dip and clap to the beat. I was so caught up in the music I didn’t notice Gregor approach until his shoulder slammed against mine.

I stiffened as I turned on him, liquid anger racing through my veins. He wore a fitted midnight blue tunic with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a glittering golden crown atop his head—the first gift he’d won from the island. The magic of this place hadn’t made him king, but it had allowed him to have a crown. What a waste of a gift. Out of instinct, I reached for the dagger at my belt, but he held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Whoa now,” he said with a guttural laugh, though there was no merriment in his eyes. “I’m just coming to say hello.”

“You never say hello to me, Gregor.”

“You got me there.” His teeth flashed as he smiled. “Mostly, I wanted to give you a warning. Because of who you are, I’m willing to overlook what your orc friend over there did earlier, but Rivelin, lad, you need to keep her in line. If she attacks me again, I’ll be forced to do something about it.”

A low, simmering anger swept through me. Fisting my hands, I took a step toward him. “Are you threatening her?”

He tsked. “She was the one threatening me.”

“Stay away from Daella.”

Gregor shook his head. “You know she’s one of Isveig’s murks, don’t you? Surely her ass isn’t sweet enough to make you forget that, although…” His eyes drifted toward the dance floor, and an eager glint lit his golden eyes. “I did ask for Freya to gift me with a new lover. Interesting how the lass showed up right in time for Midsummer.”

“I said stay away from her.” My hand went to my dagger hilt. “And if you make me say it a third time, you’ll sorely regret it.”

Tension curdled the air between us. He stared at me, and I stared at him, and I couldn’t be sure which way this would end. He’d either back down, or I’d make my move. Gregor had been here for a few years longer than I had, but at the end of the day, I protected this island. I’d gladly protect it from him, if need be.

After a long, excruciating moment, he loosed a breath and stepped back. “Speak of the fucking devil.” And then he wandered off.

A body collided into me before I could turn, but somehow I knew—I felt—it was her. I turned and caught her arms just in time. Her knees buckled, and her flushed face aimed for the ground. A hiss went through the air as I held her up, pulling her against my chest.

“Think I drank. Too much,” she slurred as she looked up at me with bleary eyes.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You downed two pints in the space of ten minutes when you’ve never had a drink before.”

She nodded. “In hindsight. Bad idea.”

“Let’s get you home.”

“Mmmm. Far. Legs no work.”

A pause. “I’ll carry you.”

“What?”

“Don’t overreact.” Before she could try to talk me out of it, I looped my arms under her legs and hauled her from the ground. Her head dropped against my chest, and she sighed.

“Embarrassing.”

“Don’t be. It happens to everyone at least once.”

“Not you, I bet.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“You never say hello to me, Gregor.”

“You got me there.” His teeth flashed as he smiled. “Mostly, I wanted to give you a warning. Because of who you are, I’m willing to overlook what your orc friend over there did earlier, but Rivelin, lad, you need to keep her in line. If she attacks me again, I’ll be forced to do something about it.”

A low, simmering anger swept through me. Fisting my hands, I took a step toward him. “Are you threatening her?”

He tsked. “She was the one threatening me.”

“Stay away from Daella.”

Gregor shook his head. “You know she’s one of Isveig’s murks, don’t you? Surely her ass isn’t sweet enough to make you forget that, although…” His eyes drifted toward the dance floor, and an eager glint lit his golden eyes. “I did ask for Freya to gift me with a new lover. Interesting how the lass showed up right in time for Midsummer.”

“I said stay away from her.” My hand went to my dagger hilt. “And if you make me say it a third time, you’ll sorely regret it.”

Tension curdled the air between us. He stared at me, and I stared at him, and I couldn’t be sure which way this would end. He’d either back down, or I’d make my move. Gregor had been here for a few years longer than I had, but at the end of the day, I protected this island. I’d gladly protect it from him, if need be.

After a long, excruciating moment, he loosed a breath and stepped back. “Speak of the fucking devil.” And then he wandered off.

A body collided into me before I could turn, but somehow I knew—I felt—it was her. I turned and caught her arms just in time. Her knees buckled, and her flushed face aimed for the ground. A hiss went through the air as I held her up, pulling her against my chest.

“Think I drank. Too much,” she slurred as she looked up at me with bleary eyes.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You downed two pints in the space of ten minutes when you’ve never had a drink before.”

She nodded. “In hindsight. Bad idea.”

“Let’s get you home.”

“Mmmm. Far. Legs no work.”

A pause. “I’ll carry you.”

“What?”

“Don’t overreact.” Before she could try to talk me out of it, I looped my arms under her legs and hauled her from the ground. Her head dropped against my chest, and she sighed.

“Embarrassing.”

“Don’t be. It happens to everyone at least once.”

“Not you, I bet.”

“You’d be surprised.”

She lifted her head for a moment to pin her narrowed gaze on me. “But. Grouchy and brooding.”

Shaking my head, I carried her away from the dance floor and toward the road that led back to my shop. The laughter and music and buzz of conversation faded into a dull roar, and shadows crept around the corners of the buildings to replace the lantern light. Daella relaxed into me, closing her eyes.

I carried her up the steps and through the door, and then went straight to the bedroom. When I lowered her onto the bed after pulling back the quilt, she grabbed my hand. Steam whorled between us.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

My heart clenched. “You’re welcome, Daella.”

Almost instantly, she fell asleep. I pulled the covers across her body, and then grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen. I tried not to think too much on what I’d done—that I’d spent my evening looking after someone who worked for the enemy, and that I didn’t regret a single moment of it.

In fact, for the first time in a very long while, I didn’t spend my midnight hours on the roof glaring at the stars. I went straight to the sofa, and I slept. Perhaps it was because I might have my enemy right where I wanted her.