Chapter 24

Castle Nordlinga was under siege. Liria and I observed Sigurn's enemies from the edge of the blizzard that enveloped the fortress. Perched on a rise, we sat side by side on Lord Ulred's horses, which had crossed the Covenant as easily as he'd promised.

He and the knights of the Winter Guard were a silent presence at our backs. Before us, hundreds of human warriors and men-at-arms waged a full-scale assault. Whoever they were, they'd planned their attack for a long time—and the weather wasn't deterring them.

War machines surrounded the base of the large gray fortress. Here and there, bands of humans loaded catapults with chunks of stone. The clang of steel warred with men's shouts and horses' cries. A group of fur-wrapped men with shovels labored out of arrow range, their bodies bent as they worked to carve a trench from the frozen ground. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, sweat, and a mix of human and animal excrement. Over everything, the faint whiff of magic lingered.

It wasn't anything an ordinary human would have noticed. Magic called to magic, and the regular people of Nordlinga couldn't possibly answer that call. And anyway, the scent defied description. The Old Language offered a few words, but even those failed to properly encapsulate the raw, shivering tang of undiluted power.

Sigurn's magic powered the storm, but he hadn't used the scepter. Not yet. I'd wielded it long enough to recognize the signature it left behind. The way it warped the world around it. Liria had asked if the scepter would function in Andulum. I'd answered honestly when I said I didn't know. But I'd left something out.

The truth was, I didn't know if the scepter would work on this side of the Covenant—and I was terrified to find out. Probably, my father would have known. As soon as the thought came, my throat tightened. A deep, raw ache throbbed in the center of my chest. How many times had I longed for his counsel?

The ache deepened, the pain sinking down until it touched the knot of rage I'd nursed for nine decades. Humans had stolen my father from me. I'd sworn to make the men responsible nameless. Maybe it was time to concentrate on my vow instead of allowing myself to be distracted.

The magic-fueled blizzard raged, the wind tearing at the humans' hair and clothes. It shredded the pennants that flew above the castle's soaring towers. Ice coated the fortress's walls, which were stained black in several places—undoubtedly from explosives launched by the enemy. The walls were otherwise undamaged. The same couldn't be said for the battlements.

"I don't understand," Liria said, her gaze on a group of humans painstakingly pushing a catapult closer to the fortress. "Sigurn said his castle was crawling with his mother's family. If they were already inside, why leave just to turn around and lay siege?"

"The Nordlingans cling to their laws of hospitality like a religion. Tola's descendants would have been shunned and possibly hunted if they attacked over bread and ale."

She nodded. "Sigurn mentioned it."

When he wooed her in secret.He'd hurt her with his betrayal. Whatever happened today, he'd pay for that.

"Will the castle fall?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"How can you tell?"

"Brighthelm is doing their work for them," Lord Ulred said, bringing his horse forward. "Sieges are a waiting game. This fortress is solid and likely well-defended, but the people inside have to eat. Every day this storm continues is another day men can't sneak out to hunt."

Liria's brows pulled together. "But they must have provisions put away for precisely this situation. Meat can be dried and kept for a year or more."

Ulred pointed to the snow that climbed halfway up the gates. "If Brighthelm continues fueling this storm, his attackers won't have to worry about starving him into surrender. They'll simply scale the ladder he's building."

I grunted in agreement. Sigurn's gift was likely to be his downfall. Even if he directed his men to douse the snow with boiling water, they couldn't work fast enough. At the rate the snow was falling, it was packing tightly. Before long, it would offer a sturdy method for climbing the walls.

Liria looked at me. "What should we do?"

"Wait until nightfall. I'll go on foot and enter alone." Delay wasn't an option. Sigurn had the scepter. I couldn't allow his attackers anywhere near it.

Lord Ulred met my gaze. "You'll use the escape tunnels?"

I nodded. Most castles had one. Castle Nordlinga was no exception. I'd entered the fortress undetected on more than one occasion when Sigurn's duties kept him from visiting Tur Dorna. He'd needed power. I'd needed a foothold in Andulum. And sometimes, I'd needed…other things.

I shoved those thoughts away before they could materialize into memories. Sigurn had played me for a fool from the start. Fine. I'd played him, too. We'd both taken what we wanted. But he crossed a line when he brought Liria into the game. For the briefest moment, I'd believed the connection between the three of us could work. He'd shattered that illusion. I could tolerate him using me. But using her was unforgivable.

"I'm going with you," Liria said suddenly.

Everything within me recoiled. "Absolutely not. The tunnel is cramped and narrow. The walls are supported by rotting timber. An ill-timed sneeze could collapse the whole thing."

She shrugged.

I arranged my features in the expression that had cowed countless squires over two centuries. "The answer is no."

"I didn't ask permission," Liria said.

Lord Ulred silently guided his horse around and fell back to the line of knights.

I clenched my jaw as I regarded the woman who'd been infuriating and captivating me for longer than I could decently admit. "Before we left, you promised to obey my orders. Do you remember?"

Liria stared up at me, a familiar stubborn glint in her eyes. "We talked about this, Ronan. I challenged the scepter. I'm supposed to retrieve it."

"It's too dangerous."

She opened her mouth. Then she doubled over, a cry bursting from between her lips.

I seized her reins. Fear twisted my gut, as it had each time she'd fallen ill. As I reached for her, intent on dragging her onto my saddle, she put out a staying hand.

"I'm all right." She wheezed, her slender back shaking. "Just…give me a minute."

Resignation settled over me. It couldn't be more obvious that her sickness was tied to her challenge in the Crypt. Nevertheless, part of me hoped she was faking this time. She'd certainly played enough pranks over the years—especially when she was keen to get her way.

But as she lifted her head, my hope evaporated. Her face was tinged a sickly green. Sweat dotted her brow, and she swallowed convulsively as if she fought the urge to vomit.

Nevertheless, her eyes shone with determination as she drew an uneven breath. "I'm coming with you."

Protests welled. But I was outmaneuvered—by both Liria and magic. Experience had taught me that Liria was the stronger force between those two entities. I could protest all I wanted. Eventually, however, my princess would best me.

I sighed as I ran gloved fingers down her jaw. "All right, brat. We leave at midnight."