Chapter Thirty-Two

“Signey said you can’t hear whistling?” I said, dropping to a crouch. I pulled a griddle cake off the iron, the underside burned to a crisp. “How did you figure that out?”

Erik cocked a brow. “Signey showed you the Lover’s Box?”

“She let me use the mirror to stitch my—” I swallowed. The mangled stitches might raise questions. “It doesn’t matter.”

“So, you felt the thrall?”

I poked at the griddle cake’s blistered bottom. “It’s…strong.”

Bo placed another on the iron. “You should’ve seen what it did to King Herleif.” Butter browned and foamed at the edges, going warm and nutty. “He became obsessed with the boxes. Stopped bathing, stopped eating. He was passing messages back and forth so often, they said his house was filled with a constant click, click, click, like a horse prancing on stone. It’s how the boxes ended up with House Rythja.”

Kaspar threw open the flap to his tent. “Good morning, friends!” He popped onto the rock beside me and waggled his brows. “Isabel.”

“Yes, Kaspar?”

“You can put your hands all over me now.” He dropped his voice to a sultry whisper. “I know you’ve been waiting.”

“Shut up,” Erik said.

“You know,” I said, grabbing my medicine bag, “I actually have.”

Water shined on the rock face of the ravine. Mountain avens quivered from where they sprouted in the walls, their white petals coated with dew.

I ripped one of my extra skirts into strips to clean and rebandage Kaspar’s leg. The arrow had struck his upper thigh just below his butt. Riding a horse would hurt and there’d be a scar, but he’d be fine.

“Any idea who was following us?” Erik asked.

“None,” Kaspar replied. “We killed four, the rest got away. So did one of our horses.”

“Not mine, I hope.”

Kaspar shrugged. “Helhest is fine. We actually lost Buttercup.”

My hand slipped, knocking the water bowl I’d perched on a rock. “You lost Buttercup?”

“Oh, don’t look so sad. At least you have your bag.”

It was true. I’d taken off my bag when I’d decided to walk, but that didn’t explain—

“My tent!”

Another shrug. “I slept in Bo’s and you slept in mine. Not a big deal.”

“Wait,” Erik said. “You slept in Bo’s tent?”

“To be fair,” Kaspar drawled, “there wasn’t a lot of sleeping.”

Bo ducked his head, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Oh. Oh .

Erik gave Kaspar a fist bump.

A hawk turned through the sky above us. A few fish splashed through the shallows, silver bodies glittering under the sun. Their fins fanned out like lace fans, causing little ripples.

I knotted Kasper’s bandages a final time. “You’re ready. And you—” I pointed at Erik. “You’re up.”

He tugged off his shirt and sat before me, his back toned and muscular.

I laid my palm against it.

He tensed against my touch.

Could I beat him back to Karlsborn Castle? Would he chase me when I ran? A thrill ran through me, shivery and wild. I shouldn’t want him to chase me, but…

I reached for the bowl of water.

“Was there anything on the attackers that could identify them?” Erik asked as I pressed the damp rag against his wounds.

Kaspar shook his head. “No. And that’s the strange thing. They had nothing—no packs, no bags. Except…”

“Except?”

“One had this in his pocket.” Kaspar extended a strip of red fabric, two fingers wide and as long as my forearm. “It’s probably nothing.”

Erik grimaced. “How long do I have to sit here?”

“Not as excited as Kaspar to have my hands on you?”

“It’s just not how I pictured it.”

I…wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Erik tipped his head back so his chin angled toward the sky. His voice went husky. “Tell me, Isabel. Did you picture it like this? Or did you picture us somewhere else? Were we sneaking around my camp? I know you like that.” His gaze darkened. “Sneaking.”

I coughed.

He cackled.

“Why do you keep doing that?” I asked.

He flipped around so his knees bracketed my body. “Doing what?”

I blinked. I was not expecting to face him when he answered that question. “You…know.”

He leaned back on his palm, stretching. No, not stretching. Making sure I had a good view of his tattoo.

Oh lordy.

“Tell me why you think I’m doing it,” he purred.

Because you’re dreamy, and I sometimes fantasize about your hands all over my body.

Except Bo, Kaspar, and Signey were all in earshot. So nope. “Turn around.”

He laughed again but complied.

I uncorked the jar of honey and smoothed it over the wound.

Focus on the wound care. Wounds. Gross wounds. Bloody wounds. Puss-filled wounds. How to treat them. Not his husky voice. Not his tattoo. Definitely not the tattoo. This wound. Right here. Yes. Treat it. How should I treat it? Calendula or yarrow would be best, but I didn’t have any left. If I hadn’t been planning to leave, I might have climbed back up and went to Esbern. Or maybe…

“I need supplies,” I said. “This is the last of the bandages, and I’m running low on everything else. If I could borrow a horse—”

It was the perfect excuse, really. It would buy me a lead, and if I could steal the Lover’s Box before I left…

Erik glanced over his shoulder. “Back to Esbern?”

“Yeah.”

“For supplies?”

I tried to keep an even expression. “Um, yes? Is that a problem?”

“Take Kaspar.”

“Kaspar’s injured. He’ll slow me down.”

“Then Bo.”

I glanced at Bo, who was flipping another cake off the griddle. “I don’t think—”

Erik lifted his brows in mock surprise. “I was told it would be a diplomatic disaster if something happened to our Sanok guide.”

Diplomatic disaster…like he cared about that.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’d hate for something to happen to you.”

“That is a very different attitude than the one you had at the start of this trip.”

His brows furrowed. Mock concern. He flipped around again and placed both hands behind my knees. “I only want to keep you safe.”

More like he wanted to keep me watched. Fine. I still had s?ven. I could drug whoever came with me and escape afterward. Ha. I’d still win.

I gathered up the dirty bandages and tossed them into the fire. They shriveled in on themselves, curling in like—

Something clicked.

Not clicked mentally, but actually clicked. It came from—

I whirled.

Click .

Signey’s tent. It sloped and rose, a monument against the morning mist.

My heart hammered. My mouth dried.

What had Bo said about the boxes? King Herleif had been sending messages back and forth so often his house was filled with—

Click .

Had they heard it? Bo smothered butter over his griddle cake. Kaspar tore at a hunk of rye bread. Erik tugged his shirt back over his head. Maybe they hadn’t. Maybe it would be—

Click .

“Did you hear that?” Erik asked.

“That’s weird,” Bo said.

Click .

Kaspar snatched the griddle cake off Bo’s plate. “Sig! I think there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

“Hey!” Bo said. “That’s—”

Signey flipped him off. “Screw you.”

Click .

Time sped, time slowed, the seconds falling through my fingers. I had s?ven, but I couldn’t drug all of them. Could I outrun them? Erik and Kaspar were wounded, but they both had reykr. So did Signey.

Bo rolled his eyes. “Fine. You can have that one.”

The river hissed. Two sheep wandered down the mountainside, white blots against the gray.

Kaspar opened his mouth to eat the stolen griddle cake, and—

Click .

“ Signey !” he shouted. “Are you going to get that?”

Signey got up, returned with the black metal box, the one stamped with falling crows. She tugged the key over her head, fit it into the lock. It snicked.

Maybe I could pretend like I hadn’t sent the original message. After all, the reply would only be half of the conversation, and Signey kept the key around her neck. There was no way I’d have access to send it.

But no. I’d used the box yesterday when I’d stitched up my ear.

Click .

Signey flicked the lid open. Inside, a single piece of paper quivered.

If I wanted to run, it was now or never.

She scooped the paper up and peeled it open. Her eyes flicked across the page.

My heart thudded. Every muscle in my body screamed go, go, go .

“What do they want?” Erik asked.

Signey shoved the paper at him.

Erik skimmed it. Crumpled it in his fist. “Pack the camp.”

“What happened?” Kaspar asked.

“Read it yourself.”

Kaspar opened the paper. His face pinched, then fell. “Shit. This is—” He scraped a hand through his hair and stalked off. “Shit.”

“Wait!” Bo called, rushing after him. “What does it say?”

He thrust it back at Bo, who smoothed it on a rock.

It quivered, blinding and white, a lone leaf left on a bare branch. I pressed two fingers against the page.

The writing was crimped and rushed. Something—A hand? A wrist?—had smeared the ink.

Uprising at Karlsborn Castle. Attempt on Lothgar’s life. Poison. Unsure if he’ll last the day. Protests. Threats. Fire in the streets. The future is changing. The sooths see a different outcome. Come back.

“We’ll replace Buttercup in Esbern,” Erik said, saddling the horses. He glanced at me and grimaced. “I…know she wasn’t the easiest animal, but we’ll get you something better. Probably a gelding. Not another mare.”

I used my knees as a levy to pull the flap on my tent bag closed and scrambled for the buckle. The words of the letter swirled in my head. Uprising at Karlsborn Castle . “She hated me.”

“Buttercup didn’t hate you.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “She just liked food better.”

Attempt on Lothgar’s life. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Lothgar seemed formidable, so removing him would probably be a good thing for Larland and the Sanokes. But…that was Erik’s father. How would he feel about losing him?

Erik extended a hand. “Now come on. I’ll help you up.”

“Up?”

He cocked a brow. “We’re riding Helhest. Don’t tell me you planned to walk.”

I wouldn’t mind walking. I’d be a sore and sweaty mess climbing out of the ravine, though that would be better than another Buttercup situation. But the letter…

We needed to get back.

“Okay,” I said. “Put me on your horse.”

Helhest was bigger than Buttercup, all muscle and dominance with thunderous hooves and piercing eyes. His coat gleamed the gray of salt-splattered rocks, and his entire body rumbled when he snorted.

Erik led him to a rock. I grabbed the lip of the saddle and scrambled on. My heart pounded. Above us, birds flew in and out of nests. Storm clouds darkened the skies. Then, a heat behind me. A warmth. Erik’s arms reached around and found the reins.

I expected to feel anxious—a normal person would have felt anxious. The last time I’d been on a horse, it had been Buttercup. She’d fallen into the ravine and I’d had a panic attack, and I should feel anxious.

Instead, I felt…alive.

The damp air made my skirt stick to my legs and my braid clung to my neck. My ruined ear held a dull ache, and yet, I didn’t care about any of that.

Instead, I studied the saddle—the way the leather glistened, the line of brass studs that decorated the seams, each stamped with a little cross, like a bun. And there, padding on the seat. See the way it puckered when it joined the leather, the line of stitches that connected it? I shifted. Shifted again. Shifted a third time. Did Erik have a more comfortable saddle than me? Had he purposely given me a bad saddle? Had I been riding on a bad saddle this entire time? I shifted again, shifted—

“Ah, um, Isabel. Stop.”

I glanced back. He shifted. A bulge jutted from his pants.

Oh, hi. Okay. That was unexpected. Well. Um. What would be worse? Acknowledging it or not acknowledging it? But I’d seen, and he’d seen that I’d seen. And now he was waiting for some sort of response and—

“Wow,” I blurted. “An actual snake.” The words dangled between us, worse than the cups comment when we first met. Definitely should not have acknowledged it. Nope. Should not acknowledge. But now he was looking at me and his brow was furrowing.

“Like your tattoo,” I continued. “A snake to match a snake. Yep, that’s a snake.”

“Of course you’d make this awkward,” he muttered. “How about I teach you how to steer him?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks. “Um.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Helhest. I meant Helhest. Just…give me a second to calm down.” He took a few breaths, then hooked his boots around my ankles and dragged them back a few inches. “You hold here and here. Don’t control him through the reins. We give commands with our feet.” He nudged my boots against Helhest’s stomach. The horse set off at a slow walk.

My heart thundered. “I didn’t— The snake comment—”

“Let’s not talk about it. We use the opposite foot for the direction we want to go. So if we want Helhest to go left , we nudge with our right foot.” He eased my right foot into Helhest’s belly, and Helhest veered left. “If we want right , we nudge with our left foot.”

We looped around the camp, then returned to the others where they waited, mounted and ready to go.

Erik took the reins back and pushed my feet forward. “No more blabbering about snakes,” he said. “And do not grind against me in the saddle.”

Kaspar took a drink from his waterskin. Signey played with her knife.

Bo fidgeted with the letter, opening and closing it, twisting the corner. “They said the streets were on fire. What do you think we’ll find?”