Chapter 10

Who did he think he was? My fisted hands shook by my sides. He thought he knew everything about my life, but he'd only waltzed into it a day ago.

"‘Everything I need.' He has no idea," I muttered beneath my breath as I followed the path toward Steingard. As I crossed a bridge, the dim glow of the sunstones caught my attention. They were beginning to fade in this part of the mountain, which usually took a year after we mined them. I made a mental note to add this bridge to the list of ones that needed replacements.

We had plenty of gems to go around. Whatever power lurked in the tunnel I'd showed Tormund made certain of that. Us dwarves never had to worry about light and heat. And while we enjoyed trading food and drink with sailors beyond the mountain, enough crops grew down here that we could survive without it.

Under the Mountain provided us with everything. Food, water, warmth, light, and shelter. And there were perks on top of that, of course. Community was a big one.

The most annoying thing about what Tormund had said was that he was right. I did have everything I needed.

But still, the world beyond called to me. I yearned to feel the sun on my face. Everyone told me the valleys below the mountains were covered in brilliant green grass as soft as a carpet of moss. I wanted to wriggle my toes in it. I wanted to splash in the saltwater sea. Fates, I even wanted to climb a bloomin' tree!

I doubted Tormund had ever climbed a tree in his life.

And what was worse, his own brother suffered my same fate, albeit for a different reason.

My stride slowed as I climbed the carved steps leading up to the ledge above, daisies lining the path. I did feel for his brother. I truly did. He deserved his freedom just as much as I did, and it didn't seem fair that only one of us could have it.

That wasn't the point, though.

It was that Tormund didn't even try to understand why I wanted the bloomin' Everstone so much.

I huffed a breath, taking the last step up to my village's ledge. Why had I even hoped for understanding? Tormund didn't know me. He didn't care. Sure, it felt like we had some common ground now and again, but it was meaningless.

He was probably trying to trick me into seeing him as an ally so I'd happily give up the stone. Not that it was mine to give. Regardless of the weird things going on around here, the gem from Rockheim had to be the Everstone. Tormund would eventually win it, then he'd go on his merry way back to Azraak and help his brother.

And I'd still be stuck…here.

I lifted my eyes from the path as my cottage came into view across the bridge. Then I stopped short, startled. My flower boxes were teeming with daisies. Mountainous bunches spilled over the sides of every one and crawled across the ground, twisting like vines up the side of my house. Yulla was out front, her hands windmilling, her face flushed and shining with sweat. My mouth dropped open, and I quickly crossed the bridge to reach her side.

"What in Thor's good name is going on here?" I asked her.

She moaned as she grasped her knees and stood up straight. Damp strands of hair curled around her red face. "Your flower boxes have exploded."

"Yes, I can see that. But why? What did you feed them earlier?"

It was then I realized earlier meant this morning when I'd left to trick Tormund down the spider path. Gods, that felt like five years ago now. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. My quiet little life was usually so much more peaceful. I'd get up, tend to my garden, have a cup of tea, and then head on into work. After work, I'd come home to my silent house, have another cup of tea, and chat to my plants before drifting off to sleep.

Day in, day out. It was nice, even if it was a tad lonely.

"Don't you blame this on me now." She wagged a finger at me. "I fed them the same thing you normally do. It's just water from the Steingard Pond."

Down a tunnel that cut our village in half, we'd found a small frothing pond where natural water trickled in from the cracks in the walls. It was some of the best tasting water in the north, it made my hair feel like silk, and it never ran dry.

It'd certainly never caused the flowers to do this, though.

I scratched the back of my neck. "I suppose I need some more flower boxes."

"You'll need a lot more than that. Look." She pointed at my front door.

I'd shut and locked it before heading to Tormund's camp, and vines burst through the cracks, spilling out onto my front stoop. The two windows facing us were crowded with a bundle of leaves and stems and—I cocked my head—were those more daises?

"All right. What is going on." A statement, rather than a question. It looked like the daisies had gone and taken over my entire house, not that they'd been far off it before.

"Fates if I know." Yulla leaned sideways and tipped her head into my line of sight. She fiddled with her long braid, jingling her bells. "Say, got any more of that chocolate? A bite of it might just help you figure out what you need to do next…"

I slid my eyes from the vines straining against the windowpanes. She grinned at me, the faint lines around her mouth deepening into grooves. I'd always thought those lines said more about her life than she realized. A few years back, she'd lost her husband in a trading accident—his ship had gotten caught up in the Elding, the vicious storm that protected the Isles from intruders. She didn't speak about it much, but I knew from those lines just how happy she'd been. They were like footsteps in the sand. Evidence of how often she'd been there.

I hoped one day she could find something that would deepen those lines even more.

For now, all I could offer her was chocolate. I dug into my tunic and pulled out the remnants of the bar. Half of it was already gone, but I could spare some for an old friend. I snapped off a piece and pressed it into her hand. Then I popped another square into my mouth. The gooey chocolate melted on my tongue. It did in fact make me feel better.

A bit better.

"This is more delicious than the last bar Lilia brought you," Yulla mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate.

"So bloomin' delicious, right? I don't think this is going to make the plants calm down, though."

"Well." She propped her fisted hands on her hips. "Should we see what the inside looks like?"

Shrugging, I went over to the door and hauled it open. Vines spilled out onto the front stoop and surrounded my boots within seconds. Yelping, I jumped back before they could snare me in their embrace.

"Hmm," Yulla said from behind me.

I peered inside. The plants had well and truly descended into pure madness. They'd taken up every inch of available space, curling around my dining table, my sofa, and even my barrels of ale. I had a feeling the bed in the loft would be covered, too.

"I don't think I'll have good luck sleeping here tonight." I backed away slowly, my eyes locked on the twitching vines. They seemed to have a mind of their own, and I wasn't about to tempt fate, though their little curling leaves were awfully cute.

"Maybe it's those moss cakes," Yulla said, pointing at the basket still firmly squatting on my dining table. Several of the vines had curled into the basket, sticking their ends inside the fluffy cakes. Like they were feasting upon the sugary goodness. "You use a different recipe or something?"

"Jostein brought them." I frowned. Tormund's words filled my mind. He was convinced the Everstone was some kind of fake, that someone was tricking the contestants into believing it was real.

Jostein had unveiled the gem. And he'd brought me the moss cakes.

But surely not…Jostein had always looked after me. He looked after everyone. There was no bloomin' way he was behind this. Still…it stuck out to me as a strange and unlikely coincidence.

"Well, regardless, you need some place to sleep, but the best I can offer you is a pile of blankets on the floor." She patted me on the back. "You're welcome to that, of course, but I won't be offended if you choose to go somewhere else. I'm sorry I don't have more space."

Yulla and her three children were crammed inside their little cottage. They couldn't carve an expansion because the rock behind their home was the back wall of another cottage, and the chasm sat directly to the left. Anytime I suggested they move, Yulla looked at me like I'd asked her to go the rest of her life without chocolate. She'd lived in that cottage all her life. She wasn't leaving.

"Thanks, Yulla," I replied, "but I don't want to get in the way."

She swatted my arm. "Nonsense. You're always welcome." When I didn't immediately answer, she brushed her hands on her apron and glanced wistfully at her home. "Well, listen. You think about it. If you want a blanket pile tonight, just knock. I'll be up for another hour or two at least."

I smiled. "You're a good friend."

"You best believe it." With a wink, she returned to her cottage. As soon as she vanished through her front door, I turned back to mine. For the first time I could remember, the amount of greenery vastly outweighed stone. The leaves seemed to glisten beneath the orange glow of the nearby sunstones, and the vines curled toward them, as if reaching for the soothing warmth. I couldn't help but smile. It might be an incredible inconvenience, but it sure was pretty.

And so I climbed inside the cracked door, grabbed my pillow and blanket, and returned to my front stoop. This would make as good a spot to sleep as any.