Chapter 15

RIVELIN

By the time I got Daella back home, she’d started to wake, which made me more relieved than I wanted to consider. At first, I’d thought she might not make it. Her cheeks, the only bare skin I could see, were a blazing red, and I could only imagine what the rest of her looked like. Her breathing had gone shallow; she’d been limp in my arms as I’d made the long, slow trek back across the lake.

No one knew what medicine to give her. We’d never had an orc in the Isles, and her wounds were unlike anything we’d ever seen.

I kicked open the door and settled her onto the bed. Her waterlogged body hissed as I brushed the strands of wet hair out of her eyes. A hoarse breath spilled from her pale lips as she blinked up at me.

“Tell me what to do,” I said quietly.

She moaned and writhed on the bed, clawing at the clothes.

I nodded. “You need to get out of those so we can get you dry.”

Coughing, she weakly picked at the bottom hem of her shirt, but then she shook her head.

“Help,” she croaked out.

“Fucking Gregor,” I muttered as I moved to her side. He was the reason she was like this, and if I hadn’t hated the elf already this would have been the final straw. He’d always pushed things too far, but this was on an entirely different level. If the people of Wyndale couldn’t agree to boot him out of here, I’d find a way to get rid of him myself.

As gently as I could, I undid the clasps securing Daella’s oilskin leathers in place, and then tugged them off her arms. Beneath, her sleeveless tunic was soaked through, and angry red welts enveloped her arms. She hissed through clenched teeth, barely conscious. Rage burned through my veins.

“Please get the rest of it off me,” she whispered up at me.

“Are you certain? I could go get Lilia. I know you don’t trust—”

“No time,” she breathed. “Just take it all off. It’s only skin.”

And so I did, taking care to avert my gaze as I pulled the tunic over her head. I passed her a towel, which she clutched to her chest while I moved on to her boots and her trousers. The wet material was hot in my hands as I tugged it from her trembling body. I continued not to look, as best I could. Until a flash of blue snagged my attention.

An angry red mark stretched across her right hip. Embedded just beneath the skin was a large shard made of ice, its blue glow throbbing ominously. It looked like someone had cut her open and shoved the thing in. Years ago, judging by the scar. But it had never fully healed.

A preternatural stillness took over my body, a remnant of my battle training from before my life in Wyndale.

“What,” I asked in a deadly calm, “is that?”

She closed her eyes and tugged the towel over her hips to hide the scar. “It’s a magicked ice shard.”

“What does it do? And who put it there? Who cut you open like that?”

But I already knew the answer. I’d known the second I saw it. There was only one being in the entire world who could have done it.

“Isveig.”

I sat back and averted my gaze as she finished toweling off her body. She was shivering less now, but her occasional gasps told me she was still very much in pain. I stalked off to the cupboard down the hall and brought out some fresh linens for the bed. The ones on there now would be soaked through, still irritating her back. I also pulled out another pair of nightclothes, the last clean set I had. At this rate, I’d have to ask Tilda for some more.

When I returned to the bedroom, Daella had inched off the wet patch to the drier side of the bed, and she’d covered her front with the towel. I set the fresh linens on the trunk and swallowed at the marks all over her legs. Those had to hurt like hell.

“Do you need me to help you get dressed?” I asked.

“No, just give me a few moments. Do you have any more of that salt? For the welts.”

“I can find some.”

“All right.” She sighed. “Can you just…give me half an hour or so? This is going to take me a little time.”

“You sure you don’t want help?”

“No, no. I just need to rest for a bit. I’m in quite a lot of pain.”

I frowned. “I’ll get you that salt.”

* * *

Istormed into the village square, where everyone had gathered after the challenge. Unlike the days before, the celebration tonight was muted. Groups were gathered at the tables, drinking ale and talking amongst themselves, but the lack of laughter and cheerful bard tunes felt like an ominous cloud had settled over Midsummer.

Lilia spotted me from her ever-present spot beside her wagon. She rushed over and grabbed my hands. “Is Daella all right?”

“No,” I said, my voice clipped. “Where’s Gregor?”

She shook her head. “Haven’t seen him.”

“And Kari?”

“She’s got a broken nose, but she’ll be all right.”

“Good.” I started to move away.

Lilia called after me, “Don’t do anything foolish, Rivelin.”

I just grunted and kept walking through the square. The cheerful paper streamers and flowers only dampened my mood even further, particularly when I found Odel and Haldor covertly perched on some crates in an alley just beyond the square, whispering excitedly like the day had borne some drama-filled gossip.

I scowled as I approached them. “Enjoying this, are we? Maybe we should change the rules and allow assault during every Midsummer Games.”

Odel fell silent and gave me a frank look. “Kari has a busted nose, but she’s fine.”

“Gregor attacked her. He needs to be disqualified from the Games, and then kicked off Hearthaven.”

“Well.” Haldor sucked on his teeth for a moment, squinting up at the sky. “Problem is, Kari went for him first, and you know the rules. Technically, she’s in the wrong here. She’s withdrawn from the competition.”

“You must be joking,” I said flatly.

“Rules are rules, Riv,” Odel sighed. “If we bend them for this, you know that’ll mean others start pushing the boundaries of what they can and can’t do.”

“Someone is already pushing the boundaries. And if we let him get away with it, he’ll do something else. Something that could get someone actually killed. And next time, we might not have an orc willing to jump into a literal lake of fire—as far as she’s concerned—in order to stop it.”

“How is Daella, anyway?” she asked, her voice going soft.

“In a lot of fucking pain.”

“Thank her for us, will you?” Haldor cut in. “That took a lot of moxie.”

“And compassion,” Odel added. “Think we might have been wrong about her?”

I thought back to what she’d told me about her captivity and what Isveig had put in her hip. But I also remembered the hatred in her voice when she’d spoken of dragons. “Perhaps.”

“I suppose this won’t have endeared her to us much,” she said, furrowing her brow. “Can you manage to turn it around? You two looked pretty cozy on that raft. The plan to charm her must be coming along well.”

“I’m not having this conversation. I came here to ask you about Gregor. Where is he?”

They exchanged a glance. Haldor rubbed the base of his horns. “He vanished after the challenge. No one knows where he’s gone, not even his mother. At least, that’s what she says. Could be lying.”

“You tell her I’m looking for him. Tell everyone you see.”

“Don’t do anything foolish, Rivelin,” Odel said, edging closer with a frown. “I know you’re angry, but he technically hasn’t done anything wrong. You can’t touch him.”

I narrowed my gaze at her. “Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”

“Your anger has a short fuse and you have a violent past. We all know that.”

“I’ve never lifted a finger against anyone on this island.”

“And let’s keep it that way, eh?” Haldor clapped my back.

I shook my head at the both of them, shrugged his hand off my shoulder, and left them to their gossip. I shouldn’t get so irritated. They only wanted to keep the peace, like all of us did. That was why we had our rules in the first place, and no need for a prison. Everyone yearned to keep our safe haven the way it was: a calm oasis tucked away from the brutal realities of the Grundstoff Empire. A place where there was no fighting, no bloodshed, no crime and punishment and all the dirty work that went with it. And most of the time, it was exactly that.

On my way back home, I stopped by the apothecary to pick up some more salt, noting the evening chill now that the sun had crept behind Mount Forge in the distance. The sky was streaked with periwinkle blues and crimson reds, and most of the village would be watching from the square.

Back home, Daella was curled up in the armchair with Skoll pacing beside her. Her face was still red, but her eyes were a little brighter now. As I approached, she pushed up from the chair, grimacing.

I held up the bag of salt. “Got your medicine.”

She nodded and motioned toward the kitchen. “I just need a bowl of water and some mud, or even dirt, to make a paste.”

“I’ll get it.” I handed her the bag and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and filling it from the spout. The mud was next. I took a handful from the back garden and tossed it into a second bowl. When I returned to the living room, I found Daella peering out the window, her body still trembling from her ordeal.

“Your skies. They’re beautiful.” She sighed and turned around. Pain lined every inch of her red-stained face. “Best get the salt paste on these welts or they may leave scars. I was in the lake too long.”

I couldn’t have explained why the thought popped into my head, but I found myself saying, “Think you can climb a ladder?”

“What, now?”

“We can watch the sunset from the roof while we fix up your wounds. Might make this whole ordeal seem…well, less terrible, I suppose. I know nothing will really make it right, but—”

“Let’s do it,” she said firmly.

And there it was. That spark in her eyes—the real one. The orc liked sunsets. Noted.

I motioned for her to follow me outside, where I’d propped an old ladder against the house. It was a rickety thing that shook as we climbed, but it did the job well enough. Balancing the supplies, I followed Daella as she gingerly edged her way upward. More than once, I thought about suggesting we do this another day, but she seemed determined as fate to make it up there.

When she reached the top, she clambered across the brown slates and stood gazing toward Mount Forge in the distance. Her entire body seemed to exhale, like she’d just released a breath she’d been holding all her life. A little surge of pride went through me. I knew she’d like this.

I put the bowls on the roof and hauled myself up behind her.

“You come up here a lot,” she said, still gazing ahead at the vibrant sky.

“Most evenings,” I admitted.

She turned toward me and motioned at the village square a few streets over. From here, it was easy to see the packed tables and the bustling Traveling Tavern. A bard had taken to the stage now, and lilting music drifted toward us on the wind.

“And what about them? Do they sit there watching the skies every night?”

“When the weather’s good, a lot of them do.”

“But you stay here and don’t join them. How come?”

“Let’s focus on getting your wounds tended,” I said, changing the subject. “What do we need to do?”

She sighed and settled down on the roof, kicking her legs over the sloped side. “Just hand me the bowls, and I’ll sort out the paste.”

So I did, and she got to work. Dropping some salt in the water first, she waited for it to seep in, and then she added some of the salt water to the dirt. She tested it with a timid touch, gave a satisfied nod, and then mixed it all together.

While she spread some of the paste across the welts on her arm, I decided now was the time to broach the subject. “So what happened out there, Daella?”

She stiffened and then slathered another welt with some paste. “Gregor attacked Kari and then left her to drown. The others were hiding from him, I think. No one else was around to go after her.”

“You saved her life.”

“Anyone else would have done the same thing,” she said, still dabbing the saltwater mud onto her wounds.

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Hmm. Is he gone?”

“Gregor? I don’t know. Some hope he’s gone, but he’s not out of the Games. Rules say he was just protecting himself. I hate it, but that’s how it is.”

She sighed and moved on to her legs, rolling up the soft linen trousers. There were at least ten welts marring her green skin, but they weren’t as angry as the ones on her arms. “He’s not gone, not with that determination to win. Whatever he wants to ask the island, it must be big. Any idea what it is?”

“No, it’s against the rules. No one ever shares what they plan to ask. We don’t want it to influence the spectators when they put in their votes.”

“So he could want something terrible.”

“Knowing him, he most certainly does.”

Silence fell as she continued to work with the paste, but it was an easy kind of quiet, the kind that felt like a long nap in the sun. I leaned back against the roof and laced my hands behind my head, watching the pinks and reds of the sky succumb to the midnight blues of night. We sat like that for a good long while until Daella was done with the medicine. The fireflies had come out to play, darting overhead beneath the silver of the moon. Down in the market square, the bard still sang. This time, he was on to a tune about the dwarven city deep inside the Glass Peaks.

Daella settled onto the roof beside me. “Thanks for giving me this.”

“The sunset? Can’t say it’s mine to give, but I’m glad it could ease some of…today’s shit.”

“The sunset, yes. But everything else, too. I was in bad shape.”

“I’m sorry, Daella. If I win, I will make sure he’s gone, if I can’t find a way to get rid of him before then. He doesn’t deserve this place.”

She slid her eyes my way. “What exactly is it you’re going to ask for if you win? I know you said you don’t share that with anyone before the end of the Games, but…well, I’m your assistant, and I think I’ve earned it after today.”

I chuckled. “That you did.”

“So?” She raised her brow, and I couldn’t help but notice how the moon’s glow amplified the shine of her eyes. “What is it, then?”

“I told you. I’m going to make sure Emperor Isveig can never harm anyone who is a part of this place.”

“And you can just ask that? ‘Dear Isles of Fable, please ensure Emperor Isveig never hurts anyone who lives here.’”

“No, others have tried that kind of thing in the past,” I admitted. “You have to be more specific with your wording.”

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” She sat up and wound her arms around her rolled-up trouser legs, gazing ahead at the twinkling lanterns of Wyndale. From up here, I often thought the sprawl of it across the hills looked like a reflection of the starlight above. A distant marvel, one I could survey but never quite know—always just beyond my reach.

I sat up beside her. “I’m going to ask it to make an unbreakable rule for those who find these islands. No one can come or go who will cause us harm if they do so. That way, Isveig will never step foot in Wyndale nor will he know what’s here.”

Daella stiffened.

I frowned. “And that bothers you? If what you’ve told me is true, you will cause us no harm.”

She hastily stood, the roof tiles wobbling beneath her bare feet. “You know why I’m here. I’m to track down Draugr in the Glass Peaks and take them to Isveig. I was ordered to do it, which means I have to. You don’t think that’s harm?”

I rose beside her, noting her tortured expression. “Well, then you won’t be able to leave if I win. Is that really so terrible? You’d be free from him if you stayed.”

Tears filled her eyes. She yanked up her tunic to reveal the ice shard embedded in her skin.

“You asked me what this is and what it does,” she whispered furiously. “Well, at the moment, it does nothing, as long as I do what the emperor commands. But if I don’t…” She closed her eyes, and a tear streaked down her reddened cheek. “If I don’t return to him within six weeks—five weeks now, I think—then he will use the power of the shard against me. It only takes one whispered word from him, and it will turn me into a block of ice. He will kill me.”