Chapter Forty-Eight

Mist gathered along my lashes, pilled inside my nose, giving the air an almost wet and sheeny shimmer. Waves lapped at scattered shells, the gentle rush of blue-gray water that made them tinkle. The sea seemed to hang off the sky.

I was used to the cabal and chaos of the camp, to illusions that gnarled and twisted, but the emptiness, the stillness, was new.

My hand curled around the strap of my medicine bag. I skirted around a pile of trash.

I was fairly confident this plan would work. If Stefan and the other spies had slipped seamlessly into the Sanokes, shouldn’t I be able to slip into Larland?

After all, they’d owned us, had hammered and smoothed our edges until we were a gold and gilded thing. Their prize, their pet, something to be paraded, soft and feathery, put on pillows and made to smile.

They wanted to build us in their image.

They showed us how to make them bleed.

Twenty years of independence was not so long to drift apart.

And didn’t I know better than anyone how royal households were run? Hadn’t Karlsborn Castle been patterned after the more opulent Salborg one? And wouldn’t they want to show King Wilhelm his new weapon.

So, Erik would be at Salborg Castle, at least for a little while.

But I couldn’t save him alone.

Rock faces glittered from the ocean spray. Gulls darted in and out of pockets on the cliff. The world held a sleepy haze.

A handful of Volds sat by a dying fire, hair long and wrists tattooed, their shirts a rumpled cotton, soiled from sand and sweat. They prodded the fire with a stick.

“Do any of you know where Signey is?” I asked.

All eyes flicked to me, beady and hungry, a little wary. One man glugged from a bottle. Another spooned porridge out of a wooden bowl. A third held a half-skinned fish, its body limp and silver. Blood slicked the man’s fingers, red as poppies. It pattered the sand with a slow drip, drip, drip .

Maybe I should be afraid, but I knew how House Rythja worked. I’d stared down their monsters, and I’d won.

I held the man’s eyes.

“You again,” he said, shifting forward. His mouth curved into a smile that showed every one of his teeth. “Decide to have a drink with us after all?”

I blinked.

You again? After all?

I’d never seen this man before. He wasn’t one Erik brought on the scouting expedition, nor was he one I’d encountered in the camp. He—

Oh. Wait.

Rat face, dark lips.

The man who’d made the better me the first time I’d come into the camp.

A whisk of wind and there she was, sitting on his lap, her hair a glossy shade of brown, her eyes dark with desire. Her dress clung to her hips, her breasts, nothing more than a nightgown. She shimmied her shoulders and grinned.

“I don’t want a drink,” I said, ignoring her.

The better me fell away, a wisp of smoke. The man wedged his knife under the fish’s remaining scales and peeled them off. “Then why are you here?”

“Signey. You know where she is?”

He laughed. “You think I follow the bitch queen?”

“I think you know which tent is hers.” A statement, not a question. And it was early enough in the morning, hopefully she would still be there.

One of the other men scratched his neck. “Signey? She’s gone. Left this morning.”

My gaze snapped to him. “You know where?”

He huffed a laugh. “Why would I know?”

The third Vold took another glug of his bottle. “Heard it was another scouting mission. Erik sent her off to…Shoe Cove?”

“Cobble Cove,” said a fourth.

The third Vold licked his teeth. “Down by the horses if they’re still there.”

I sprinted down the beach, sand nipping my ankles, wind spiking my hair. Seabirds wheeled overhead. The sky stretched blue and long. Please don’t be gone, please don’t be gone. I don’t know who else I’d take.

The fact of the matter was this plan hinged on finding support. I couldn’t trust anyone at the castle, not after Stefan. But Signey cared about her little brother. Hadn’t I seen that? If anyone would help, it was her.

I found her with two dozen men. She’d braided her honor bead behind her ear and changed from her typical fur vest into a dark green jacket with House Rythja’s crow emblazoned across the front.

“Isabel,” she said. “Glad you’re back.” She ducked around a man carrying a bundle, stepped over a crate of foodstuff. “If you see Erik, tell him he owes me a horse. And some dried fish. His men dumped mine into the ocean.”

Bengt loaded saddle bags onto a stallion. Tyr brushed down a mare.

“Also,” Signey continued, hauling a bag off the ground. “If you see Erik, tell him he’s late.”

She turned and prepared to leave.

I sucked in a breath. “Erik’s gone.”

Horses whinnied. Waves crashed. Spray from the ocean tarted my lips, dampened my sweater.

Signey paused, her back to me.

“I’m sorry,” I continued. “I tried. I—”

She stalked across the sand, grabbing my wrist and pulling me a little way down the beach, away from the earshot of the others. “What do you mean, he’s gone?” The words were a growl, a warning.

I took a deep breath and fought the urge to run, to hide. All the times Signey had scared me, threatened me, they were scars, and right now, under the press of her fingers, the heat of her gaze, my body was tensing, a pipit setting flight against a falcon, but I couldn’t do this alone, and she cared about Erik, she did, and maybe she wasn’t my friend, but she wasn’t my enemy, either. We could be allies. At least in this.

I shook my hand loose.

“It was a trap,” I said.

Her brow rose. “They let you go?”

I thought back to the heave of Stefan’s chest, the blood crusted along his nose, the glint in his eye. If I see you again, I’ll kill you.

“I don’t think they saw me as a threat.”

Signey’s hands balled to fists, and she stalked off toward the horses.

“Where are you going?” I hurried after her.

She kept her eyes steely and ahead. “To save my brother.”

“By yourself?”

She glanced over her shoulder, the corner of her mouth quirked. “I assume you’re coming, too? You’re trotting after me like a puppy.”

“I’m not a puppy.”

“What’s in the bag?”

I wrapped my hand around the leather strap and jogged to match her stride. “Um. It can’t just be us. We need a few more people. A group.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to keep the mission small?”

“Agreed. But you won’t get Erik out by storming in there all by yourself.”

“I have you.”

“We need more than that. At least four.”

“Fine. I’ll gather men.”

“I had a few in mind. Did Bo and Kaspar get out of prison?” Erik had said Herleif would release them if he bound himself to him. Not that far-fetched of a thought.

She rolled her eyes. “ Anyone but them.”

I scrambled to keep her pace. “Kaspar can hold for sixteen people, and he’s the best swordsman in Volgaard. We might need that.”

“Have you seen Kaspar use a sword?”

“No.”

“Do you know how many swordsmen there are in Volgaard?”

“No, but—”

“Exactly. He’s not the best swordsman. Erik just says that.”

“He’s Erik’s best friend.”

She eyed me, dubious. Fog dampened her hair, her jacket.

“You know it’s true.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Erik has bad taste in friends.”

“But why don’t we want someone like Kaspar? He’s loyal, willing to stick his neck out for Erik.”

She reached a rowboat with a curving hull. The wood warped like a sheep’s horn, speckled with gray-green lichen. She toed it with her boot. “Any of Erik’s men would stick their neck out for Erik. We’ll take Bengt.”

My gut lurched. I rushed to the boat’s other side. “Bengt?”

“Yeah. Bengt.”

“We can’t take Bengt.”

“Why?”

The thought of being stuck on a boat with Bengt made me nauseous. “Anyone but him.”

“He can hold for sixteen people too. That’s just as many as Kaspar.”

“A talent he used on me.”

“So?”

“He tortured me.”

Signey shrugged and tossed me an oar. “I’ll order him not to.”

I tossed the oar back. “He smells.”

“We’ll make him take a bath before we leave.”

“We don’t have time for a bath.”

“Bengt isn’t so bad once you get to know him. Plus, he’s better with a sword than Kaspar.”

“So Erik did get Kaspar get out.”

At that moment, Kaspar rounded the corner of the bluffs. He must have spotted us because he dropped his packs by the horses and sprinted across the beach.

“Hey, Sig,” he said. “Have you seen Erik? I thought he was coming to see us off.”

Signey’s jaw feathered. “ Signey ,” she said. “My name is Signey.”

“You’ve seen him?” he asked again.

“No,” Signey replied.

“You know where he is?”

“No.”

Kaspar’s gaze swung to me. “You’ve seen him?”

Signey stare went murderous. Do not say anything , it warned.

“I have…not,” I said.

Kaspar cocked his head. “Really? Because he got us out, we stole the Lover’s Boxes, and then I thought he said he was going to rescue you.”

“He…did? Then he left?”

There. I’d lied.

Signey was still pinning me with a stare that said if I told Kaspar, she’d eat me alive. But this plan needed at least four people, and I wanted Kaspar to come. Even if Bengt promised he’d never use reykr on me again, I wasn’t ready to forgive him.

Kaspar crossed his arms. “You really don’t know where Erik went?”

Signey kept her gaze on mine. She gave a slight shake of the head. Another warning.

A wave thundered up the beach, white foam and bubbles nearly catching our ankles, licking at the boat’s hull.

Kaspar didn’t believe me, which was fine for Signey. She would run him off with her grumpy attitude and we’d be halfway to Larland before he circled back to get me alone. We’d end up taking Bengt, which was exactly what she wanted. Or…

“Okay fine,” I said. “Erik was captured by Larland. They’re taking him to be their new weapon. Signey and I are going to save him.”

Signey smacked her forehead. “Isabel!”

I threw my hands in the air. “What? I’m a terrible liar! You guys have been telling me this for weeks.”

“Captured?” Kaspar echoed.

“Yes.”

He looked at Signey. “When do we leave?”

She stiffened. “ We’re not going anywhere.”

“Sure we are. I’ll get Bo.” Kaspar disappeared down the beach.

“Two minutes,” Signey said, rubbing her temples. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut for two minutes .”

I shrugged and turned my cheek to hide my smile. “Now we have our team.”

She eyed the horizon. Wind ruffled her hair, washed her face in a soft flutter. The water had gone a dull sapphire blue, the color of a clamshell or a summer sky. “Do you know where they took him?”

“Salborg Castle. Lillefjord.”

“That’s a four-day journey.”

“If we leave now, we won’t be too far behind.”

She nodded, kept her eyes ahead. “Do you know how I got my honor bead?”

The question startled me, pulled me back. “Tormod’s Keep?”

“But do you know the story?”

“No.”

Her hand went to her scalp, the silver ball braided there, and she twisted it. “House Kynda was out of control again, pushing into other people’s lands. They’d taken the keep from Rythja a couple months earlier, and we wanted it back. And by ‘we,’ I mean mostly Lothgar. He had me sneak inside because I was small. Only seven, I think, maybe eight. It wasn’t hard. All I had to do was lower the bridge and run like hell. But after the battle, he acted like I was the hero. He cut the bead right out of his hair.” Her fingers stilled and her eyes slid to me, the same smoky gray as Erik’s. “They don’t mean you’re important. Well, they do, but that’s not all. They mean— eljun . That’s our word for it. It means you have heart. And you, Isabel Moller, have heart.”

I opened my mouth, closed it. “That’s…maybe the nicest thing I’ve heard you say. Ever.”

She stiffened. “I’m not nice. Now, let’s go save my idiot brother.”