Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(83)

Free.

Emotion swelled in my chest. Swallowing hard, I gazed at Aska, almost afraid to believe it could be true. But the dragon bowed her head, purring. And that was when I remembered. There had been a moment in the forest when I’d first climbed onto her back. Unrelenting magic had rushed through me, potent and all-consuming. The heat had been exhilarating. We must have bonded then.

I shuddered at the thought, unable to hold back the intoxicating relief that flooded through my veins like strands of fire.

Unbidden tears streaked down my cheeks as I turned to face Rivelin. He was staring at me with such open adoration that every last remaining defense inside me shattered like glass.

I leapt into his arms, sobbing.

That was when the screaming began.





37




DAELLA





R ivelin and I broke apart and took off down the winding road. The screams were coming from the festival on the outskirts of the village, and it would take us at least a few minutes to get there. I didn’t want to think about what those screams might mean.

Had something gone wrong with my wish? Had I asked the wrong thing of the island? Or worse, had it rejected me because I was only Rivelin’s assistant and not Rivelin himself?

We finally reached the edge of the meadow and started down the hill when a line of ice giant warriors shifted into view. They were all armed with deadly spears and protected by thick leathers, the shoulders engraved with the wolf sigil of the Grundstoff Empire.

Isveig’s sigil.

I choked out a cry and stumbled to a stop, taking in the sheer number of them. There were at least a hundred warriors…though I would have expected more from all those ships. Still, a hundred was more than enough to conquer this island. My plan had failed. Instead of protecting Wyndale, I had doomed them.

“Daella!” a voice called out from somewhere near the merchant stalls. A familiar voice. A friendly voice.

With my heart in my throat, I turned toward the sound. Thuri was bounding toward me, her pale blue braid thumping against her back. She wore a smile and carried a tankard of Lilia’s famous ale. In her hands, it looked quite small.

For a moment, all I could do was stare at her, as if she were an apparition come to haunt me. How was she here? And where was Isveig?

“Daella,” she said again when she reached me. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

The world seemed to shudder back to life around me, sights and smells and sounds all at once. It was then I noticed the screaming had stopped and the babble of conversation trickled through the festival like a pleasant stream. The merchants were cooking up some food for the evening, and the crowd was milling about as if nothing unusual was happening at all, let alone the arrival of a hostile empire. Even the ice giants looked relaxed, standing around and watching the festival with blatant curiosity.

I blinked. “I am, Thuri. Thank fate you’re alive, but…what’s happening? Aren’t those Isveig’s warriors?”

“Ah. No.” She grinned. “They’re mine!”

I clutched her arm. “Do you mean to tell me you took them from him?”

“I took everything from him,” she said with a conspiratorial wink. “After I got your letter, I decided it was time to do something about my brother’s monstrous rule, and there was far more support for me than I’d ever dreamed. It did not take much convincing for me to gather enough fighters to stage a revolt. They thought the Old Gods were making a statement by saving me. And so, here I am. Meet the new Empress of the Grundstoff Empire.”

I laughed, delight chasing away the tension in my body. “I knew you could do it, Thuri. The empire will be far better off with you in charge.”

“Apparently so. Even the elements are in agreement. Do you know that endless cloud finally dispersed? It drifted off as soon as I locked Isveig in the dungeons.”

“In the dungeons? It’s boiling hot down there.” I shook my head, still laughing. “Isveig will hate that.”

“Yes.” She looked me up and down, then glanced at Rivelin, who stood within an arm’s reach. “Which brings me to you. I thought you might need rescuing, now that it’s safe for you to return home. In my empire, orcs and half-orcs have as much freedom as the rest of us. But it looks like you don’t need saving after all.”

I motioned Rivelin closer and wound my arm around his back. The scent of leather, smoke, and steel flooded my senses. “I think I’m fairly happy with the idea of visiting Fafnir now and again, but I have a new home here. I’d like to stay, as long as they’ll have me.”

Rivelin smiled and tugged me into his arms.



A s Thuri and I caught each other up on everything we’d been through since that life-altering storm, Rivelin made the rounds to explain the situation to the villagers. Everyone seemed to accept the presence of the warriors, but he wanted to let Odel and Haldor in on the details.

Thuri told me most had survived our shipwreck. They’d still been close enough to shore for rescue boats to reach them quickly and return everyone to Fafnir. Isveig had been beside himself when he’d heard I’d vanished, ordering his people to search the waves day after day until he’d finally decided I must be dead.

At a lull in the conversation, Thuri motioned for one of her guards to come closer. He carried a weathered, leather-bound book in his hands. He passed it to me. It was buttery soft under my fingers, smoothed by the passing of time. The words Ris upp ur oskunni were embossed on the cover.