Chapter 23

DAELLA

“Good morning.” Rivelin’s voice cut through my dreamless sleep, and I awoke curled against his chest, my hip cushioned by a blanket that hadn’t been there when I’d fallen asleep on the workshop floor. Another blanket was draped across my body, soft against my bare skin.

Memories of the night before rushed through my mind, and my cheeks heated. I didn’t regret one moment of it, but…what did we do now? Did we discuss what had happened between us? Or did we ignore it and return to how things had been before? I’d fought battles against Draugr, and had dispatched monstrous trolls twice my size, but I was lost on how to navigate this.

Almost certainly, this had been one night of hazy lust and nothing more.

Rivelin seemed to note my silence, and he slowly extracted himself from our makeshift bed on the floor. He ran his fingers through his mussed hair, his jaw tightening. I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn’t know what. I’d never been in this situation before.

“Thank you for the nice time. I, ah, should get dressed.” As soon as I spoke them, I instantly regretted my words. They sounded so distant and hollow, so devoid of warmth. But what else was I to say?

“Of course.” He held the blanket around his waist while he gathered his clothes, avoiding my eyes. “Best get up, then. We have a few pieces to finish up before the Fildur Trial ends tonight.”

And that was that.

* * *

Awkward silence supplanted the blissful routine of the past few days. Rivelin and I moved carefully around each other, like a dance where neither party was allowed to touch. Any time I got close, he found something else to busy himself with, even if it was rustling some papers on his worktable. When it was clear we were mostly done with our preparation and he didn’t need my help anymore, I excused myself to take a bath before tonight’s event.

I hated how unstrung I felt, like I was a pool of tangled ribbons with no beginning or end. Truly, I needed to get it together. I still had a few weeks left here, and that was only if I couldn’t find a way to stay permanently. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my time in Wyndale on constant edge just because I didn’t know how to act around a man who’d seen me naked.

Easier said than done.

After a long soak in the saltwater tub, I felt a bit more like myself. I’d gone round and round the situation in my mind, and I’d decided I could just pretend we were friends who had gotten carried away. Good friends. Affectionate friends. But still, friends. And if I thought of him as nothing but a friend, I might not stammer and blush every time I looked at him.

Still, when I stepped into the living room after brushing out my hair and donning a violet silk dress with a slit to my mid-thigh, I was almost struck speechless by the sight of him. He wore a finely tailored tunic with looping silver threads forming an intricate elven pattern along the V-neck collar, which also had the added effect of exhibiting his chiseled physique. Wet strands of his hair curled around his tipped ears, and droplets of water clung to his skin. He must have taken a bath after I did, while I was getting dressed. The idea of him naked in the tub only moments after I had been…

His eyes heated as he stared at me. “You look beautiful.”

“I…” I looked down at the ground.

“I see. Are you ready to go? I want to get this spectacularly boring evening over with,” he said curtly, dousing any hope we might regain our footing here.

“Rivelin.”

“Daella.”

I blew out a breath. “Can we…start acting normal again?”

“Are we not acting normal?”

“You’re being a bit of a grump.”

That had been the wrong thing to say. His expression darkened almost instantly. “This is who I am. Is that a problem?”

I sighed. “Thank you for the compliment. You look nice, too.”

“You’re welcome. For the compliment and the sex, though it appears you’d like neither of those things from me.”

“Is that what this is? You regret last night?”

He raised his brow. “You tell me.”

“No.” I crossed the room to stand before him and almost instantly wanted to take it back. Not because I wanted to avoid him, or because I regretted anything at all. But because being near him made my nerves tangle in my belly. It was hard to think straight around him. “I’ve never done this before. Couldn’t you tell last night?”

The corners of his lips tipped up. “Are you telling me I’m the only man who has ever explored those exceptional curves?”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Don’t get cocky.”

“No, I couldn’t tell.” He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and brushed his lips across mine. “You were incredible.”

I fisted his tunic in my hands and tugged him closer, relishing in the feel of his skin against mine and the rising steam that never failed to burn between us. I could get lost in that kiss, could forget about the Midsummer Games and spend the rest of the night exploring every inch of his skin.

But not now. Tonight’s festivities were far too important to miss.

He groaned as he pulled back, a sound that sent a delicious thrill down my spine. “Keep this moment in mind. We’ll revisit it when we get home tonight.”

My heart pounded. “I hope that’s a promise.”

He tucked a finger beneath my chin. “Oh, it most certainly is.”

* * *

In the hills just beyond the village, spectators had sprawled across the grass on checkered blankets, and several tables had been carried over from the square. The caravans and stalls had followed, including Lilia’s Traveling Tavern where the atmosphere had taken on a very boisterous nature. Booming laughter drifted on the light wind that rustled the flowing skirt around my legs. Beside me, Rivelin carried the majestic dragon sculpture he’d been toiling over for the past several days. I’d helped as best I could with the larger pieces of the structure—the tail and the head—but the delicate, artistic wings and teeth had needed a practiced hand.

Several oohs and ahhs followed us as we approached the stage, where the others were already waiting. Gregor was nowhere to be seen, of course, though that did little to calm the pit of nerves in my stomach. He would be angrier than ever now, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he retaliated. Tonight would be the perfect moment to make his move against us, smashing Rivelin’s dragon into broken bits.

Hofsa nodded from where she stood overseeing the festival as Rivelin gently set the dragon atop the stage. Down the row, I could see what the others had created for this night. Beside us, Godfrey had created elegant candles in various pastel shades. Further down the row, Hege, the dwarf, had a plate of grilled fish. She’d gone with an interesting take on the fire theme, though not one I would have chosen myself.

Now that we were down to only four contestants, there was only one other left on the far end, and from what I could see, no item had been delivered to the stage just yet. Viggo, the winner of the previous challenge, stood there quietly beside his assistant, his red hands folded in front of him.

I leaned in and whispered to Rivelin. “What do you think that’s about?”

Rivelin frowned and shook his head. I knew what he was thinking. It was almost impossible Viggo had decided to forfeit his place in the Games, especially after winning the first. That could only mean he had something up his sleeve. Judging by his relaxed posture and the hint of smugness on his face, he clearly thought whatever he had could win.

And if he won two out of four…that could effectively clinch the entire competition for him.

“You don’t think—” I started to say just as a sharp, high-pitched whistle rent the night.

Bright orange light streaked through the sky and exploded in a confetti of sparks overhead. A hush went through the crowd as the first blast was soon followed by another—this time in a brilliant red. Then another in golden yellow. Again and again the sparks filled the sky, the light reflecting on the awestruck faces of the spectators.

Movement caught my attention down the row of competitors. Viggo smiled and lifted his hands to his sides, motioning at the display and mouthing something I couldn’t hear over the blasts. I didn’t need to, though. It was clear this was his submission for the Fildur Trial.

Something stirred in my chest. It truly was breathtakingly beautiful, and it was almost impossible not to revel in it. I looked up at Rivelin, noting the tightness of his jaw and the furrow of his brow. Whatever this display was, it would win, and I didn’t know what to say to ease his frustration.

When the final spark blinked out of the night sky, the crowd cheered. Then came the presentation for the rest of us. The others went first, showing off their grilled fish and their candles, which only resulted in a mild, scattered applause. Rivelin held up the dragon when it was our turn. The cheers were louder this time but nothing compared to the response to Viggo’s sky of sparks.

We wandered away from the stage when it was over. One by one, spectators came to add their votes to the glass jars. It didn’t take long to see there would be a clear winner.

“I’m sorry,” I said to him as we grabbed two bowls of bread and stew from one of the many market stalls. “I know how hard you worked on that dragon.”

“I can’t be angry when someone wins by besting my own effort,” he replied.

“I don’t think it’s your effort he bested. He just made something…well, remarkable. What was that?”

The tables were packed, so we found a couple of crates stacked up near the line of merchant stalls and settled in to eat our dinner. Rivelin took a few bites before finding an answer to my question.

“I’ve never seen anything like it before, and I daresay no one else has, either. Must be something only fire demons know how to make. That’s why he’ll win.”

“Looks like we’ll stay in second, though.” I nodded toward the stage in the distance. Spectators were still making their votes, but from here, it was clear to see we’d remained the runner-up. Unfortunately for the other two contestants, Hege and Godfrey, very few had voted for them. They didn’t stand a chance any longer.

“Those votes won’t be enough, not unless we win the final two challenges by a landslide,” said Rivelin.

“Vindur and Jordur. Air and Earth.”

“And I can’t say I have anything good up my sleeves for either of them, unless you use the Vindur sand Kari gave you,” he said. “Even then, I don’t know what we’d do with it.”

We finished our dinner, and Rivelin went to say hello to his sister. I offered to return our bowls to the merchant, telling him I’d catch up when I was done. I was halfway to the stall when a weird hiss sounded from the bushes nearby.

“Psssh. Daella,” a harsh voice whispered.

Frowning, I edged closer to the bush. A hand shot out from the branches, grabbed my arm, and tugged me through the scratchy plant. I cursed and spun away, only to come face-to-face with Gregor. He looked terrible. Purple stains rimmed his bloodshot eyes. His golden hair was askew, like it hadn’t seen a brush in months, and dirt splattered his trouser knees. Had he been crawling in mud? No matter. The worse shape he was in, the easier it would be to defeat him.

He held up his hands as I launched my fist toward him. “Stop. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

I froze. “Right. You just ambushed me when I was alone because you want to make nice.”

“Actually, I do. We need to talk about Rivelin.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What about Rivelin?”

“He’s using you.”

“You’re a couple weeks too late. He’s helping me. I’m helping him. Neither of us is using the other.” Not anymore.

“Oh yeah? Helping you with what, exactly?”

“None of your business,” I snapped.

With a shake of my head, I turned to go.

“I didn’t destroy his shop and steal his tools,” Gregor called after me.

I froze. “You don’t actually expect me to believe that.”

“Think about it,” he said, moving to stand beside me. “Why would I be so blatant about it? Wouldn’t I hide the tools if I stole them so that it couldn’t be traced back to me?”

“You provoked Kari in front of everyone,” I pointed out. “Don’t forget. I was there. And she wouldn’t be alive if I hadn’t been.”

He folded his arms. “All right, I did provoke her. I didn’t outright attack her, though. Not until she attacked me. Because I play the game within the rules. Leaving stolen tools lying around is something only a fool would do.”

“So someone framed you, is what you’re saying.” I patted his arm. “Nice try.”

“Wait,” he said quickly, digging into his pocket and producing a folded piece of parchment. “I thought you might want to see this.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s that?”

“I’ve got friends in Fafnir. I sent them a letter via raven when you first got here, asking them about you.”

“You did what?” I advanced on him, horror snaking through me. If Isveig got wind that I was here and very much alive…

“Don’t worry. They’re loyal to his sister, Thuri. Turns out she survived the whole ordeal.” He passed me the parchment.

I didn’t want to look at it, fearing this was some kind of trick. But the roaring in my head was too loud for me to ignore. Without another word, I unfolded the note.

The heir is alive.

That was all it said. I lifted my eyes and looked at Gregor. “You expect me to believe this is from Fanfir, and it’s talking about Thuri?”

He shrugged. “Take it as my truce. I made a mistake, but I’m trying to make it right—starting with warning you about Rivelin.”

I backed up and shook my head. “I’m returning to the celebration now.”

“Just think about it,” he said as I parted the bush. “Why didn’t Rivelin hear someone destroying his things? Who wants to win this competition more than anyone else? Perhaps Rivelin sabotaged his own damn shop to set me up. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to get rid of me, especially after I tried to romance his sister. He holds a grudge.”

“I’m done listening to this.” I shoved through the shrub, ignoring the scratches along my arm. When I stumbled back into the celebration, I searched the crowd for Rivelin and found him beside the stage frowning at the glass jars. It looked like everyone had cast their vote now. As expected, Viggo was still in the lead.

With narrowed eyes, Rivelin shifted his gaze from the jars to where Viggo stood surrounded by a gaggle of pixies. He glowered at the fire demon in a way that sent a chill down my spine. I recognized that look. I’d seen it on Isveig’s face before. He was angry, and he was out for blood.