Chapter 5

5

DAELLA

Iwandered through the village as the strong winds whipped up leaves and dirt. The place was bigger than I’d first assumed—closer to a town than a tiny hamlet home to only a few families. Cottages and shops crawled along the hills, all engulfed in vines and blossoming flowers. The scent of it was almost staggering—so sweet, so earthen. Back in Fafnir, most of the greenery had been replaced with stone and steel.

The sky cracked with thunder, and I flinched. I couldn’t bring myself to start knocking on strangers’ doors and begging for a place to stay. I already knew what they’d say when they caught sight of me. To the people of this village, I was the enemy.

I spotted stables at the corner of the dirt road, so I headed that way. Animals were often better company than people, anyway. When I reached the door I tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. I should have expected as much. Sighing, I looked up at the small overhang just over the door. It wasn’t particularly wide, but it might keep away some of the rain.

I settled onto the dirt and pulled my knees up to my chest. My clothes were still soaked through, and my feet felt like mush. The wind was whipping faster now, chilling my clothes. Most of the time, I ran hot, but even I wasn’t immune to the cold. Shivering, I dropped my chin onto my knees and tried to focus on the positives.

At least I was alive. Deep down, I knew Thuri and the others might not have survived. The Elding had taken out dozens of ships over the years, and most of the time, no one ever came back. Their bodies were lost to the Boundless Sea forever. I was lucky to even be here.

I was cold and wet and soon I would be in terrible pain, but I was no longer trapped inside that damn tower. I was out in the elements now, where I belonged. The dirt beneath me felt grounding, comforting. Orcs had never been meant to spend their lives indoors.

The sound of footsteps snapped my attention away from my thoughts. The thudding grew closer, and I steeled myself. Perhaps the owner of the stables had seen me squatting out here, and they’d come to chase me away. I’d have to find somewhere else to wait out the storm. Perhaps I’d be better off returning to the woods, where the trees would provide a little shelter.

A tall, muscular elf strode into view, and my stomach dropped. For fuck’s sake. It was that damn Rivelin again.

He swept his gaze across me, his expression hard. Was fate working against me somehow? If these stables were his, I hoped the ground would swallow me whole.

“You look cold,” he said, coming to a stop only a few feet away.

“What an excellent observation.”

“Why are you here?”

“I told you. I lost all my coin in the sea. Seems free room and board isn’t a thing here.”

“And so you decided to sit outside the stables.”

“I didn’t see any other inns, so unless they’re invisible it seems I’m out of luck.”

“Another inn wouldn’t offer you a room, either. That’s if we had one, which we don’t. Wyndale is a small, peaceful village. We don’t get many visitors when it’s not Midsummer, let alone murks.”

“Fantastic information. Thank you for telling me. I think I’d like to get back to my nap.”

His lips curved. “Nap? It looked more like glowering to me.”

“I don’t glower,” I insisted, reminding myself that I did, in fact, need to stick to my motto despite how dreadful I might feel at the moment—with my puffy eyes, my clammy skin, and the headache throbbing at my temple. These people would only stop seeing me as the enemy if I didn’t act like the grumpy bastard who stood before me. So, I wiped away the frown. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

He shifted on his feet, suddenly looking a little uncertain. “You can’t sleep out here.”

“Let me guess. You don’t want the murk anywhere near your horses.”

“No, I mean…” He closed his eyes and spoke his next sentence through gritted teeth. “No one should have to sleep on the ground. I have a room. You can stay with me. For one night.”

For a moment, all my words and thoughts left me. Surely I hadn’t heard him right. Out of everyone in this village, he was the one offering me a bed? Had the storm already started, and I had gotten delirious from the rain? Or had I fallen asleep, and this was nothing more than a dream?

“I thought you hated anyone associated with the crown,” I finally said.

“I do.” He opened his eyes, and the gleaming yellow of them speared me. “But I won’t have you roaming around Wyndale hungry and cold. So get up and follow me.” Rivelin barked the words like an order, and I bristled.

Ah, I understood now.

Did he think I was a fool? He didn’t want me roaming around Wyndale because he and the others were hiding something. If he hadn’t already made it clear what he thought of me, I might have fallen for it, but I’d spent most of my life in Fafnir Castle. I knew what scheming looked like. He wanted to keep me close so that I wouldn’t find anything.

“Nice try,” I said with a smile. “But I think I’ll be far more comfortable out here in the rain than in your house.”

The scowl was there and gone in a blink of an eye, but I caught it. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

He turned and walked off without another word. Now that he was gone, I dropped my smile, and then settled against the stables once more. But try as I might, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him. I watched him walk to the end of the road and then climb a short flight of stairs to a two-story timber house with white and red beams, the many window boxes vacant of flowers. The ground floor had wide doors and a metal sign in the shape of an anvil that read, Rivelin’s Forge.

That explained a lot. No wonder he smelled like smoke and steel.

When he vanished inside, I blew out a tense breath. He was going to be difficult to deal with, I could already tell. Suspicion practically swam in his yellow eyes when he looked at me. The fact he’d invited me into his home meant he would try to do his damndest to keep me from finding out the village’s secrets.

I’d just have to be smarter than him. Shouldn’t be hard.

A peal of thunder shook through the skies, and the clouds opened up. Buckets of rain fell in sheets. I scrabbled back, pressing my body as close to the stable wall as I could, but it was no use.

The wind sprayed the water over me like a thousand shards of glass. Pain consumed my body, stealing my breath away. I fisted my hands and gritted my teeth, flinching with every blast of water against my skin. Unwanted tears burned my eyes, and I twisted my face to the side, if only to give one cheek a brief respite from the blinding pain.

It had been five years since I’d felt freshwater rain on my skin. I’d done so well these past years avoiding it, always carrying a tent and salt with me everywhere. And in Fafnir, it only rained salt water.

Moments passed in excruciating torment. My blood roared in my ears as the rain lashed and lashed at my skin. Shuddering, I peeled open my eyes and risked a glance at the sky. An inky black consumed the world overhead, only occasionally shot through with bursts of lightning that revealed the heavy clouds. They’d barely moved an inch. This storm wouldn’t end for a good long while.

I was soaked through now, and rivulets of water ran down my back, driving a wedge between my leather armor and my skin. My entire body burned. I choked out a cry. It was too much. As strong as I was, I couldn’t handle this.

Rivelin’s words echoed in my ears. He’d offered me a place to stay, at least for the night. Everything within me flinched away from the thought, but I couldn’t stay out here like this. The rain might not kill me, but it could weaken me, leaving behind angry red welts that wouldn’t heal for weeks. And if I was too ill to hunt down the Draugr, then I’d have no hope of escaping my gilded cage.

And so I pushed up onto my trembling legs and half-ran, half-stumbled down the road. The village was silent now, the windows dark. Everyone had gone home to their warm and dry beds to wait out the storm, though I spotted movement behind the curtains in a few buildings I passed. Nevertheless, I made it to the blacksmith shop and I crawled up the steps, my mind nearly numb from the pain.

I raised my fist to knock, but the door swung open before my knuckles made contact. Rivelin leaned against the doorframe, folded his arms, and smirked.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said. “Have you come to peddle your murk services? If so, I’m afraid I’m not interested.”

Another gust of wind hurtled the rain against my back. I stumbled forward a step, hissing in pain.

“Please don’t make me beg,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll take the bed. Just for one night. I need to get out of this rain.”

His eyes flashed with something resembling concern, but that was likely my delirium. He opened the door wider. “It’s yours. Come inside.”

I stumbled into the elf’s home, and that was when the scent of dragons struck me.