Chapter 21

DAELLA

After breakfast, we hauled the doors off the hinges and collected the debris from the shop floor, placing the wooden shards in piles out front. A few neighbors popped by to help. Milka, a dwarf from down the road, wandered over with some freshly baked bread that was much appreciated. Mabel brought us some mushroom pasties, and Tilda finally introduced herself.

She was a human of about thirty with deep brown skin and sleek black hair, and like Rivelin had said, she was about my height. I thanked her for the steady supply of clothes, but she just waved me away and carried off some of the broken crates to mend. Even Odel and Haldor joined in once the news travelled. They didn’t say a word about who’d done it, but I could tell by the looks on their faces they had their suspicions, too.

In the late afternoon, Lilia swung by with jugfuls of a sweet, lemony concoction that tasted like sunshine itself. As she watched me sweeping the floor, she folded her arms with a deeply troubled look on her face.

“Gregor did this, didn’t he?” she asked.

I paused my sweeping and nodded. “We don’t have any proof, though.”

Lilia shook her head and gazed at the villagers sorting through the rubble we’d pushed out into the road. “I should leave Wyndale for the rest of Midsummer. This all started because of me, and I don’t want Rivelin to lose the competition because Gregor is still angry I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“Leave? And go where?”

“Back up to Milford, and then Riverwold eventually. They’re lovely villages, too. And then after the Elding moves along, I can sail over to Oakwater for a while. It’s one of my favorite places in the Isles.”

“But Lilia…everyone in Wyndale adores both you and the Travelling Tavern. From what I can see, it’s an integral part of the Midsummer Games.”

“My presence is agitating him.”

“Fuck Gregor,” I said firmly. “I’m going to prove he was the one who ransacked this place and stole Rivelin’s tools. That means he broke the law, and he’s out of the competition. You don’t have to go anywhere.”

The sides of her lips turned up. “You mean that?”

“Absolutely.”

She nodded. “All right. If you’re going after him, I want to help.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Rivelin’s stare from where he was polishing the anvil. A little tremor quaked my heart when he smiled. I found myself smiling back.

* * *

By the end of the day, we’d cleared out half the shop. Weariness had settled over me like a fog. My body was still healing from my swim in the lake, and I wanted nothing more than to take a bath and climb straight into bed for a long, long sleep. But the idea of getting revenge against Gregor rejuvenated me enough to keep me from nodding off while we waited for darkness to swallow the last remaining dregs of sunlight.

I sat on the roof sandwiched between Rivelin and Lilia, two silver-haired elves I hadn’t known two weeks ago but now felt like part of my crew. Together, we were going to resolve this Gregor issue, once and for all.

“You know you don’t need to do this, Lil,” Rivelin said, taking a swig of her infamous brew from a tankard etched in swirling elven designs. “Daella and I have this handled.”

Daella and I.My heart thumped a little faster at the sound of those words.

“You two are very capable,” the elf replied crisply. “However, you’re not invisible. You need someone to distract him while you’re rooting around his house. That someone obviously has to be me.”

“I don’t like it,” Rivelin replied.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be in and out quickly,” I said, gladly taking the offered tankard. The brew went down sharp but sweet. “She won’t have to talk to him for long.”

“I don’t want her talking to him at all. He’ll think he’s won her over and start harassing her again.”

“That’s true.” I frowned and turned to Lilia. “You’re certain you want to do this?”

She leaned in and clinked her tankard against mine. “It’s worth the risk.”

* * *

Rivelin and I lurked in the shadowy alley behind Gregor’s house. He lived on the eastern side of the village, where single-story timber homes were packed together in neat little rows. Vines crept up the back wall and twisted around a chimney that puffed smoke into the sky, even at this late hour.

He was still awake, and judging by the looks of things, he’d gotten started on the Fildur Trial.

I exchanged a silent glance with Rivelin, and I swore I could read his thoughts just by the spark in his eyes.

Let’s get the bastard.

We listened to the sounds of clanging and hammering, and then the boom of a fist on a distant door. That would be Lilia, interrupting Gregor’s work. She’d lure him away from his house long enough for us to get a good look around.

Their muffled voices filtered through the walls. A moment later, the sound began to fade as Lilia led Gregor to where she’d parked her tavern in the market square. There, at least half a dozen revellers still sat around the tables, trading tales and downing their ales. She might not get much help from them if they were that far into their spirits, but at least she wouldn’t have to be alone with Gregor in the dark.

“Come on.” Rivelin jammed his fingers beneath the window frame and hauled it open. A screech echoed into the night, but he didn’t slow down. He threw his legs over the ledge and eased inside the house. My heart thundered as I waited. A moment later, he reappeared at the window and motioned for me to join him.

Once inside, I glanced around. Gregor’s home was somehow simultaneously messy and sparse. In his one-room space, he had no more than a single cot squeezed into a corner, a small table and chairs, and a water basin beside a crackling fire. The orange glow illuminated a pile of familiar tools beside the hearth. Clothes and maps and empty bottles covered almost every inch of spare surface.

“Looks like we got our answer,” I said.

“So strange,” Rivelin said with a frown. “I thought this would feel far more satisfying. He’ll be out of the Games because he’s fool enough to leave my stolen tools scattered around his house? I always thought I’d have a real fight on my hands when it came time to defeat him. Preferably armed.”

“I understand how you feel. In Fafnir, support was growing for Isveig’s sister, Thuri. She’s a good person, and she’d turn the Grundstoff Empire around—if she survived the shipwreck. The emperor’s support is waning. And that’s a good thing. It’s just…I would rather see him go down with a sword through his heart.”

“Vicious,” Rivelin said, but there was no judgement in his tone. He moved to the tools and started collecting them from the floor.

“Aren’t you a little vicious, too?” I asked as I joined him.

“Yes, but not mindlessly so like I was in the past. Now my rage is focused on Gregor, and anyone else who would threaten this place.”

“And that’s what all those swords are for.” I hauled his hammer from the ground and propped the end against my shoulder. “You follow the rules of Hearthaven, but a part of you itches for a fight. And so you’ve made sure you’re ready, if it ever comes to that.”

“Wouldn’t you—”

The door hinges creaked. Rivelin grabbed my arm and tugged me to the floor. I stumbled on all the mess, twisting sideways and barely catching myself as I face-planted on his broad, sculpted chest. He grunted and shifted beneath me. And as my heart thundered, I lifted my head and met his eyes. My face was only an inch from his, my lips nearly skimming the bottom of his chin. Fog rose around us like a cloud.

For a moment, I forgot what we were doing and why we were here. I didn’t even try to move, my mind jarred senseless from the fall. He shifted beneath me once again, and every plane of his body pressed against me, from his chest down to his thighs, and everything between. I swore he was as hard as steel.

I shuddered out a breath.

“Gregor, where are you going?” Lilia exclaimed from the street just outside.

“I hate to disappoint you, Lilia, but I’m not interested in what you have to offer anymore, which is…” Disgust laced his every word. “…so little I don’t know what I was thinking.”

A low growl rumbled in the back of Rivelin’s throat, and I hastily pressed my fingers to his lips. That single touch seared me with an intoxicating heat. His lips were so soft, so…warm, even though he was an elf. Everything within me coiled tight.

“Just…wait!” Lilia shouted.

In one fluid motion, Rivelin stood and somehow swept me to my feet, grabbing the last few tools from the floor beside the hearth. Five steps later, we were by the window. I went first, wriggling outside with Rivelin just behind. He landed beside me just as the sound of Gregor’s footsteps echoed through the house.

Neither of us moved. I stared up at him, and he stared right back, the moonlight cutting a sharp line across his jaw.

“We should hurry back to the forge,” he murmured.

Swallowing, I nodded. “Of course.”

“In the morning, I’ll report this theft to the others on the Village Council,” he said, making no move to leave the alley. “It should be enough to kick him out of the competition.”

“Yes, it will.”

His eyes swept across my face. “Thank you, Daella. I—”

Lilia took that moment to rush around the corner. She waved at us feverishly, and whatever Rivelin had been about to say got left behind in the shadows of that alley. As we took the return route to the forge, Lilia apologized profusely for failing to keep Gregor’s attention, despite the fact we’d scored the loot. Every few steps, I cast a furtive glance at Rivelin. Had he felt what I’d felt, back on that floor? What had I even felt, anyway?

Perhaps it had been nothing more than the excitement of the moment. We’d almost gotten caught, and both our hearts had been racing. Of course it was normal to get lost in that. It hadn’t been anything more.

And it never could be.