Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(33)

By the time we reached the bank ourselves, one of the contestants—Viggo, the fire demon—had already returned with his flag. He leapt into his boat as his dwarf assistant shoved them back into the water. And then they were off. Gregor shouted obscenities in the air, his pale face growing redder as he watched.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Rivelin murmured beneath his breath. “Focus on the shore and get ready to jump.”

“Jump,” I repeated, attempting—and failing—to keep my voice light.

“You’re going to aim for that rock and get off the raft as soon as you can. I’ll get in the water and drag the raft the rest of the way to the shore myself. You can keep guard of it from the rock.”

I nodded. “All right. I’ll do my best.”

“I don’t doubt you for a moment,” he said, his tone no longer sharpened by his usual gruffness. A little flutter went through my chest.

This part would be the hardest for avoiding the water. Everyone else could leap over the side of the boat and slosh onto shore. Rivelin would have been able to do that, too, if we weren’t on a raft only big enough for one of us. As it was, if he got off, I was going with him, whether I liked it or not.

But I was Daella Sigursdottir, for fuck’s sake. I’d survived the Elding when few did. Throughout my time working for Isveig, I’d fought a score of armed shadow demons, and I’d beaten every last one single-handedly. And far before those days, I’d hidden in the rubble when Isveig had attacked Fafnir. Many had suffocated. Others had been scorched.

I had survived all that and still come out fighting. I could survive a sprinkle of fates-damned lake water.

I put all my strength behind the next row, and that final push brought the front of the raft within a few meters of the rock. As I pushed up onto my feet, Rivelin gave me a tiny nudge, hand splayed across my backside. Heat stormed through my belly, but I forced myself to focus on the rock. And then I leapt.

My boots collided with the stone, and the force of it snapped my teeth together. A few feet down the bank, Gregor guffawed, clearly taking pleasure in my clumsy dismount. I turned to give him a piece of my mind, but Rivelin tossed me the rope that would keep the boat anchored to me.

“Hold on to this,” he said, turning toward the bank, but then he paused for a moment to catch my gaze. “Don’t rise to his bait.”

And then he was off, moving so fast that he was nothing more than a blur of silver amidst the dense woods. As soon as he was out of sight, I tightened my hold on the rope and settled down on the rock cross-legged. I could feel four pairs of eyes on me, and I could only imagine what the other contestants must be thinking.

Daella, the intruder from Fafnir sent here by the horrid emperor, had completely ruined any chance Rivelin had of winning this challenge. They would probably all clap me on the back when this was over and thank me for my service, because I’d pretty much handed one of them a win—if they could manage to catch up to Viggo.

But out of all of them, I felt Gregor’s stare the most, like his eyes were made of the lake water itself, and he was trying to burn two holes right through my skin. Rivelin’s words echoed in my mind. Don’t rise to his bait.

Shifting my attention to the woods, I blocked him out, hoping against all hopes that Rivelin would beat the others back. In the canopy overhead, songbirds danced and chirped out a tune that sounded like an ancient song I’d heard all my life—a call to those above who watched down on us all. The Old Gods. The warm and earthy scents of birch and cedar curled toward me on a soft breeze that ruffled the ends of my ponytail hanging across the back of my neck. It was so soothing, so peaceful here.

Of course Gregor had to ruin it.

“Say, Kari,” he barked out so loudly it made me jolt. “You and your assistant, you were the first boat here after me, weren’t you?”

“Yes…” Kari said, frowning. “What’s your point?”

“That means he’s the most likely runner to return next, don’t you think?”

“No, that’s probably your assistant. You lot got here first. So he has a head start,” Kari said. I watched the exchange out of the corner of my eye, careful not to let Gregor see I was paying attention. Kari was clever, Rivelin had said, and I could tell she was choosing her words carefully, all the while trying to sound calm.

Unfortunately, her white-knuckled grip on her oar and her flattened lips caught Gregor’s attention just as they did mine. Clever but not good at masking her emotions, it turned out. Gregor’s boat creaked as he shifted forward. “Something wrong, Kari?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Just leave me out of whatever it is you’re plotting,” she said tightly.

There was a flash of movement in the corner of my eye. Water splashed.

I finally turned toward them. Gregor had launched into the water and was wading through the marshy grass toward Kari’s smaller boat. He had an oar in his hands. So did Kari. Weapons, I realized.

The two other boats had been quietly and slowly easing away from the rest of us. They were both sliding behind a cluster of weeds that would hide them from view until the others returned. Smart move. I, on the other hand, knew that if I slid onto the raft, it would be like setting off an explosion. Even as Gregor sloshed toward Kari, I swore he was keeping one eye locked on me.

“Just stay back, Gregor,” Kari said. “I don’t want to fight you. I never have.”