Chapter Thirty-Four

I stumbled through the halls, the events of a few minutes ago playing in my mind. Split-tongue’s hand on Bo’s shirt. The crack of his head. The sheen of blood. Only this time, the blood reflected the room, the domed ceilings and shattered chandeliers. And this time, instead of licking it, he drank and drank.

Metal burned my throat. I needed to find Erik. Tell him what had happened and—

Arms hooked around my waist, pulling me into a storage closet. I stumbled, my feet catching the hem of my dress. Shelves rattled.

I elbowed a hip. A groin. Something—a jar?—fell to the floor with a crash.

Liquid spattered my skirts. Lemon and vinegar.

“Oof!” A familiar voice. “It’s me, Isy. Isabel! It’s me, it’s—”

I blinked. Stopped fighting.

The hands on my waist loosened, allowing me to twist.

“Stefan? What…? How…?”

He pushed the door closed, plunging us into darkness.

“Stay quiet. We might’ve already—”

Footsteps. Voices. Brisk. Gargled, like a mouthful of stones.

Stefan pressed a finger to my lips and cracked the door, letting in a band of light.

Outside, Volds. Not the same Volds who’d taken Bo, but others. Tattoos like gloves. An angry glint in their eyes. Fire licked their arms, coming off them in ropy coils. One flicked out a tongue as if he was tasting the air.

More words. And shouts?

Stefan shut the door and whirled. “When did you get back?”

“Just now. What’s going on?”

“When the Volds sacked the castle, most of us fled to nearby cities or retreated to safer parts. We’ve been hunkering in the kitchens, plotting our next move.” A sliver of light slatted his cheek, lit his spray of freckles a pale red-gold, caught the hazel flecks in his irises.

“So those are the Volds who showed up after we left?”

Stefan cracked the door and peeked down the hall. “Yes.”

“And they’re the ones who sacked the castle?”

“I think it’s safe now. We’ll have to move fast.” He extended a hand. “Come on.”

If I left with him, I’d be abandoning Bo.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Katrina’s down there. She’s turned into quite the resistance fighter. I think you’d be proud. She misses you. I think she feels bad about the way she treated you. She hasn’t said those exact words, but sometimes she—”

“I can’t. The Volds—they took Bo. I need to—”

“The dark-haired boy? Yeah, good distraction. Let’s go. Stay close.”

“I have to help him.”

“Ready? One, two—” He grabbed my wrist and dragged me forward.

“Stefan.” I dug my heels and tried to wrench my hand free. “You’re not listening.”

He tugged harder. “Why don’t you want to—”

I stumbled back, pulling him with me. My foot knocked an empty mop bucket. “Because I’m busy. Now let me—”

Stefan whirled, the flats of his hands coming to my shoulders and shoving me backward. My back hit the shelves with a rattle. “Dammit, Isy. The Volds? They killed Hans. Not the crazy fire-wielding ones, but the ones you’re trying to help. Which side are you on?”

Circles rimmed his eyes. A cut festered above his brow. His expression darkened to something wild.

Pain radiated up my shoulders. The scent of vinegar and washing ash filled my nose, made my head pulse. “How is that even a question?”

He gritted his teeth and pressed me harder against the shelves. The wooden lip cut against my back. “Answer me.”

“I’m with the Sanokes, you know that.”

“Do I?”

“I am, I’m just—” My body ached, my head throbbed. “Bo’s my friend.”

Stefan adjusted his grip on my sweater so he held it with both fists. He pulled me higher, my heels inching off the floor. “ We’re your friends, Isy. We are. Us. Not them.”

We’re not your enemy. Erik’s words.

I grasped at Stefan’s wrists, his shoulder corded with muscle and suffocating. I was suffocating, the cut of my collar pressing against my throat. The mint on his breath burned my lips, my nose. He wove his fingers through the wool. Stars burst behind my eyes. “Stefan. Stef—put me down. You’re hurting me.”

Stefan clapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s just that—” He dragged a hand through his hair. “You don’t know what it’s been like.”

I slumped against the shelves and heaved in heavy breaths. “I have a pretty good idea.”

“Have you watched your friends be burned alive? No, you haven’t. We need Larland’s help. We need to find the weapon. We’re running out of time. Come on. We need to—”

“Who was burned alive?”

“Shit, Isy. What don’t you understand? As soon as the Volds move against Larland, they won’t be able to send aid. We’ll be on our own, even more than we are now. We’re running out of time.”

“Stefan. Who? ”

His eyes flicked to me, then away. “Henrik.” The word no louder than a whisper.

Henrik, the lamplighter. The last time I’d seen him, we’d been taking bets on whether the Volds used cups. I’ll buy you in. The flick of a wrist, the flash of a gyllie. His dazzling grin.

Stefan scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look. You were the only person on that scouting mission. We need you. I need you.”

The way he said it, so fervent and full of determination. But what about Bo? Bo, who had always stood up for me, defended me, even when I had no one. Bo, who taught me how the Volds worked, who let me ride with him when I couldn’t—

I swallowed.

If I left with Stefan, would I be abandoning Bo?

“I’ll come back,” I said, wiggling free. “Tonight. I’ll tell you everything. Just…let me do this first.”

Bigger. The entire camp. At least three times. The other camp had been an outpost, but this? But now? They’d made an army. Smoke billowed a tarry gray.

There were none of the Volds with fire hands, but there were others—spikes embedded into their knuckles, their teeth filed to points. Others with lips tattooed the copper of dried blood, with faces that changed from maiden to crone and back again.

Waves beat like battle drums and flags snapped, green and gray, a troupe of them in blazing cerulean. I pulled my sweater tighter and kept my head down.

Find Erik. Tell him about Bo.

“Watch it,” hissed a man leading a goat. Between one blink and the next, the goat grew fangs and snapped its jaws.

“Get outta here,” said another.

“Wait,” I called, chasing after him. Sand nipped my ankles, speared my skirts. “Do you know Erik?”

The man snorted and kept walking.

“Erik?” My voice cracked.

I side-stepped a flea-bitten dog, a crate of overturned apples with dewdrops scarring the skin. I grabbed a woman’s arm. “Erik?”

She barred her teeth and pointed a wraith-like finger toward the beach.

And there he was, standing, smiling, handsome in a dark green jacket, the crest of a falling crow embroidered on his breast. He’d combed his hair to the side, tucked one hand into his pocket, the other resting on the hilt of a sword. “Erik,” I called, stumbling toward him.

A blink and he was gone, a furl of smoke and shadow, and there was the beach and sun-tipped waves, the rhythmic pound, pound, pound against the shore. Seagulls screeched. Puffins squabbled. A clutch of them bobbed in the shimmering blue water.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. Shit .

And—

Behind me, Erik leading his dappled gray. He grinned and caught fire like a candle. And Erik talking to a dark-haired man. He melted into a snake, a sea. And Erik, Erik, Erik.

The camp spun, a whirl of color and faces. Some leered, some laughed. Chickens clucked, coins clinked, spindles whirred, and—

“Isabel?” A familiar voice, a familiar accent. I whirled and found myself face to face with Tyr. He’d changed from the travel leathers he wore on the road, and his beard had grown out, no longer trimmed so close to his jaw. His eyes still shone that mineral shade of blue.

We stared at each other, and maybe he would change into a goat or a ghost or some black-headed beast with cracked horns and missing teeth, but a smile split his face and I was swept into a giant hug. I didn’t think Tyr and I had ever been this close, but in that moment, I’d hug a ferret if it was real.

He pulled away, swept his hands down my arms.

“I heard you were back. Wanted to find you, but I wasn’t sure… You’ll be happy to hear we cleared up the worms. That bit of tea? Did the trick. After you left, Bengt was… Well, you know how Bengt is… He—”

“It’s Bo,” I said, clawing at his arm. “They took him. I need to—Erik. Where’s Erik?”

Tyr blinked once. Blinked again. He ran a thumb over his jaw. “Ah. Um. I think he’s with Signey. Maybe I can help. Who took Bo?”

“The snake people.”

Tyr looked at me like I was the crazy one. “The…snake people?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Snake people. Like…people snakes? Or actual snakes?”

I clenched my teeth. “You know, snake people!”

“I’m just trying to understand. Tell me more about these alleged ‘snake people.’”

Fine . “They have tongues cut down the center, and their hands burn like… Is Erik one of them? I mean, he has that tattoo—”

Tyr grabbed my arm. “Okay. Yep. This is an Erik thing. Come on.” He glanced around and dropped his voice to a whisper. “And stop calling them snake people. They won’t like that.”

We reached a tent, twice as big as the others, a green flag out front, a falling crow emblazoned over the canvas.

Signey’s voice leaked through the fabric. “How can you be so dense ?”

“You went along with it.” Erik. “In fact, you were the one who brought it with—”

A scrape. “I went along with it? I only took it so they wouldn’t be—”

“Don’t pin this on me. It was your idea to—”

“If I’m stripped of my honor bead, I swear, I’ll—”

Tyr pulled the flap back.

Inside, Signey and Erik were locked in battle stance, chins tipped, fists balled, teeth barred. A smoky mass roiled off Erik’s back and shoulders, spinning into storms, into seas, into snow. A shark swam through the sky above us, and dozens of white-furred wolves growled and snapped. They all turned toward me like puppets in a play. Blood dripped from their maws.

“Delivery,” Tyr said.

Erik’s jaw hardened. “Now isn’t a good time for—” He glanced up. “Oh. Isabel. Hi. You’re back? I mean—” The wolves fell away. “You’re back.”

Signey snatched her bag off the ground. “It’s fine. I’ll check on Dad. Come see me when you have a solution.”

“You probably couldn’t see Signey’s illusions,” Erik said, “but, uh…she was also casting some wild stuff. Powerful emotions. It’s hard to control it. Anyway.” He shot me a cagey glance and skirted to fix some blankets.

Tyr inched toward the door. “And this is where I depart. Good luck with the snake people.”

Erik paused, a quilt dangling from his arm. “Snake people? Is that another euphemism for…?”

I shook my head. “They took Bo. Chased him down and drank his blood.”

“Snake people?”

“Yes. Aren’t you listening? Their hands turn to fire, and they have split tongues, and they took him and—”

Erik’s hands erupted into flames.

I jumped back. “Holy shit! You’re one of them!”

The fire stopped. “Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t help it.”

I grabbed his pack and prepared to swing. “Stay away.”

“Isabel. Isa—” He dropped the blanket and grabbed my wrists. “That was a bad joke. A really bad joke. Snakes are Kaldr-Flodi—my mother’s house. They shed their skins. Their symbol is a snake. You’re talking about helvedeshunds . Hellhounds. House Kynda. Not— They’re not snakes.”

“They took Bo. We have to get him back. The heaven hounds—”

His thumb smoothed the back of my hand. His gaze found mine. “Helvedeshunds.”

“Them. They said something about an unskag?”

He was…weirdly calm about this. “Breathe,” he said.

“What’s an unskag!”

He dropped my wrists and folded the blanket. “It’s an arrest warrant, issued by the king. Pretty formal. High bounty. Not something you want your name on.”

“I just told you your friend was arrested, and you’re going to…clean?”

The room wasn’t messy. A canopied bed had been dragged down from the castle and made up with thick pillows. His packs sat at the foot of it, tugged open, then shoved off to the side. A sheep hide hung over a chair back, curly and gray, and copper tub sat in the corner, stolen from one of the Karlsborn Castle’s noblemen. The scent of salt and impending storm drifted through the door.

“How’s your dad?”

He hauled his pack onto the bed and unpacked a bundle of clothes. “Dying.”

“How are you feeling about that?” I knew Erik didn’t like his father, but…

Erik let out a heavy sigh. “Can we focus on one problem at a time? I knew Bo was arrested. They arrested Kaspar, too.”

If he didn’t want to talk about his dad, that was fine. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about my dad dying, either. “Why’d they arrest Kaspar?”

“Stealing.” He tossed me a jacket. “Put that on.”

“What did they steal? Also, I’m not wearing that.” I tossed the jacket back.

“You can’t run around the camp in your sweater. It makes you a target. And with all the syn rót floating around, I can’t hide you from everyone.” He tossed the jacket again.

“Syn rót?”

“It’s a root that lets you see through illusions. Put the jacket on.”

Fine. I threaded my arms through the sleeves. The quilted fabric smelled like him—the crackle of kindling, of campfires, of warmth and wool. I pressed the sleeve to my nose, breathing in the familiarity. The frantic patter of my heart eased.

“Maybe if we returned what Bo and Kaspar stole, we could fix this.” I released the sleeve and tugged my braid out from beneath the shoulders. “What did they steal?”

The first beads of rain flecked the canvas.

Erik fiddled with the pack’s buckle, a silver medallion etched with House Rythja’s falling crow.

“What did they steal?” I asked again.

More rain drummed like fingers. From outside, the squeal of pigs, the shuffle as pelts and cooking pots were pulled under awnings. Shouts.

“Erik?”

“Bo and Kaspar didn’t steal anything,” he said after a moment. Candlelight carved angles in his stormy cheeks, shaded the set of his jaw. He glanced up, eyes burning. “I did.”