Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(22)

He exhaled and stepped back, his eyes hooded. “Isveig kept you in captivity?”

“Look at me. I’m half-orc. The only reason he didn’t have me killed was because we were friends once.”

“And all those quests you do for him…?”

The ice shard throbbed in my hip. “If I don’t follow his orders, he’ll make sure I never take another breath.”

He ground his teeth and moved away, running his fingers through his silken silver strands. “I shouldn’t believe you. This could be some story you’ve made up to gain my trust.”

“You’re right. It could be.”

“He sent you here.”

“No, he sent me to the Glass Peaks.”

“Why?”

I folded my arms. “Why do you think?”

“To track down Draugr. That’s what you do. It’s what you’re good at. Don’t try to pretend it’s not.”

“Oh, I am excellent at it. Is that a problem?”

“It is when it gets innocents killed.”

“Innocents?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Please. I’ve seen what Draugr can do. The magic burns them up, along with everyone else who made the mistake of being near them.”

His eyes swept across my face, and I took the opportunity to search the yellow for any sign of that fire. The kind that consumed someone until there was nothing left of them but ash. Those who used the magic—even just once—became corrupted by it. It was impossible to turn away once you had a taste of it. I understood why. The power of it was intoxicating, far greater than even the four elements combined.

Rivelin towered over me. He pulled a dagger from his belt and pressed the tip against my chin. The sharp point dug into my skin, but I did not flinch away. I just kept my hard, steady gaze on his face.

“Do you know why I’m here?” he asked with lethal quiet.

I swallowed, my throat bobbing against the blade. “To win the Midsummer Games.”

“No.” He leaned in closer. “I’m here to protect the Isles. That includes the Glass Peaks. And I’ll protect them from anyone Emperor Isveig sends our way.”

“So then he’s right. There are Draugr in those mountains. Why would you ever want to defend them? Don’t you know what they can do?”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t let you walk away from this.”

“And yet you still haven’t shoved the tip of that dagger into my neck.”

With a growl, he dropped the blade and slammed it into the sheath. “Only because I vowed never to spill blood here unless mortally provoked.”

“So you didn’t bring me into the secluded woods to stab me? That’s a relief, though I think you’ll find I’m not that easy to kill.”

“We need to collect some wood for the boat.”

“Ah yes, for the competition you want me to help you win, just after you threatened me with your dagger.”

“I don’t trust you,” he grunted.

“I don’t trust you, either, especially after that.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

He narrowed his gaze. “You say you’ve spent your entire life in captivity, except when you’re out on quests?”

“Yes. Lucky me.”

“On these quests of yours, did you ever spend an evening at a tavern?”

I blinked at him. “Pardon?”

“Have you ever gone out for the night, drinking and dancing at a tavern?”

“Only a moment ago, you were poking my chin with your dagger, and now you want to know if I’ve ever been out drinking?”

“Well?” He arched a brow. “What’s the answer?”

“The answer is no, Rivelin. Isveig always sent guards with me. Or mercenaries, depending on what he was after. They never let me out of their sight.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Best get moving, then. We have a lot of wood to gather, if we want to make it back on time.”

“Time for what?” I asked, but he moved down the path without answering.





11




RIVELIN





I followed Daella out of the woods, my arms loaded up with logs. Her hips swayed as she walked, the curves of her lower back tantalizing where they dipped into her well-fitting trousers. I tried not to look but fates be damned. She might be working for the enemy, but she looked delicious doing it.

Her story today had surprised me, and even though I knew it all might be a lie, I leaned toward belief. Isveig had always been a murderous bastard who had tried to paint his war crimes as noble and just. When he’d invaded Fafnir, he’d been “saving” the world from the dragons and their terrible magic.

He hated orcs. I’d always assumed he’d conquered Fafnir so easily because he had a spy in the court, someone who helped him learn their defenses and how to best them. That person had been Daella, or so I’d thought. Now I wasn’t so sure. The look in her eye…that flicker of pain and defiance. The haunted ghost of her fake smile.

It was impossible to feign that kind of pain. I would know.

When we reached the edge of the village, music and laughter already drifted through the air from the market square, where everyone had gathered to celebrate the evening away. Daella and I had been in the woods for hours, gathering branches and sawing logs. She’d spent the time helping me without complaint. In fact, she’d been uncharacteristically silent. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d taken it a bit too far with the dagger. I’d only been trying to get the truth out of her—see if a little extra intensity would get her mask to crack. She was an infamous murk, that kind of thing wouldn’t be new to her. I’d assumed she’d take it in stride.