Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(84)
“Rise from the ashes,” I whispered.
“I found that in Isveig’s quarters when I took over. Recognized those words as the same ones from your dagger and realized it was an orc book. I thought you might want it.”
My heart swelled and I hugged it to my chest. Even though I no longer needed the book to learn how to bond with a dragon, just having this piece of my history meant the world to me. There was so much I didn’t know about who the orcs used to be, and I could not wait to spend an evening on Rivelin’s roof flipping through these pages.
“Thuri, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
A hush suddenly went through the crowd, and a string of colorful curses soon followed. Thuri and I turned in unison toward a pack of dwarves leading two chained prisoners across the meadow. Viggo was in the front, jerking and growling at his bonds, but the dwarves held him strong. Gregor stumbled just behind him, his head hung low. Still, he wore no shoes.
“What’s happening?” I asked as Haldor and Odel approached, along with Rivelin.
Haldor scratched the base of his horns. “It’s the strangest thing. There was a dwarf ship in the nearest harbor, over from the Glass Peaks. They were meant to leave an hour ago, but the captain ended up coming into Wyndale asking about two prisoners he was told to put to work in their mines. I asked him who told him such a thing, and he said it was a voice on the wind.”
“And we just so happened to have two prisoners and nowhere to truly hold them.” Odel cut her bright eyes my way, her delicate wings flared wide. “Something tells me this is your doing, Daella.”
“Not me,” I said, understanding at once. “It was the island.”
And perhaps the Old Gods.
As we watched the dwarves haul the prisoners down the hill, pink lines dashed across the sky to signal the setting of the sun. It almost felt like a message from the island itself, as if it were trying to tell us this was the end of any threat against this peaceful land.
“What did they want, anyway?” Rivelin asked. “Did you ever manage to get it out of either of them?”
“From the Games?” Odel asked. “Gregor truly believed Rivelin was behind everything, but he was only looking out for himself. He hoped Rivelin would take the fall, and he could swoop in as the island’s savior. Everyone would love him, then.”
I scowled. “And Viggo?”
“Funnily enough, Viggo was the one who helped Gregor cheat to get chosen for the Games again. Viggo realized he would be the perfect decoy until he could turn suspicion toward you two.”
“To what end?” Rivelin asked.
“Viggo wanted to bond with a dragon. He thought asking the island would prevent him from becoming poisoned by the magic,” Haldor said. “When I asked him why, he said he thought it was the best way to defeat Isveig. He’d take the dragon, fly to Fafnir, and burn it all down.”
My stomach churned. A part of me yearned to do something similar. After all, Isveig had destroyed so much, and the temptation to meet destruction with destruction was intoxicating in a way that only few could understand. But Rivelin could, I realized, as I met his knowing gaze.
But there was a much greater part of me that tempered that desire. In an attack like that, it would be inevitable for innocents to get caught in the crossfire. The castle would burn and so would everyone in it. Besides, his sister had taken care of him now, and he would suffer far more stuck in those humid dungeon cells.
“Here’s one thing I still don’t understand. Why in fate’s name did Viggo burn all my parchment?” asked Rivelin.
“Ah.” Haldor glanced my way. “He saw Daella send that letter to Thuri, and he thought it was meant for Isveig. He was trying to stop her from sending any more letters to the enemy.”
I shook my head. “So everything he did, he did for the good of the island.”
“He thought it was for the good of the island,” Odel countered. “But he has done too much damage. And if he’d had his way, thousands of innocents in Fafnir would have died.”
For a moment, no one spoke. We stood there in our huddle and let Odel’s words sink in, understanding how easy it could be to lose sight of things. Emperor Isveig had gone to war, believing himself to be the world’s savior. And Viggo would have done the same thing. It could have become a vicious cycle of rage and blood until it was the only thing left, until everything good was gone from this world.
“Luckily, all that’s over.” I turned to Thuri. “Now let me introduce you to Mabel. She makes a mean mushroom pie.”
T he entire village was out for Midsummer. The sky was lit with a million stars, and a soft breeze rustled the grass at my feet. I popped another cube of Elma’s cheese in my mouth, leaning against the side of Lilia’s wagon, where lanterns cast their light on the dancing crowd. Haldor had taken it upon himself to loose some fireworks between each song, dazzling everyone in attendance with their oohs and ahhs that rippled across the meadow in waves.
It was a beautiful, mystical night, and for the first time in my life, I no longer feared what tomorrow might bring. I had no idea what would happen next, but I was safe here, and I was free. That was enough.
“There you are.” Rivelin stepped from the shadows to join me in the quiet calm, away from the merriment of the crowd. “Why are you hiding all the way over here? Some of this celebration is for you, you know. You won the Games.”