“You could ask for the death of the emperor.”
I draped an arm across my knee and eyed the distance between her hand and my knife. I hadn’t given her one with her own plate for very obvious reasons. And now she was trying to lure me into saying I wanted the emperor to die. According to her laws, that would be worth my head. Isveig was a fucking tyrant.
“You can’t ask for the death—or even harm—of anyone,” I said carefully. “But especially not of someone who isn’t on the Isles. The magic only works here, like I said.”
“But that would solve all your problems, wouldn’t it?” she asked. “The death of Emperor Isveig?”
“You speak very casually when your words could get you killed.”
She raised her brows. “So you have heard about what it’s like in the Grundstoff Empire these days.”
I knew better than most.
Nodding, I shifted my hand to the left so that my palm covered the knife. “Every now and again, someone washes up on our shores, and that someone is usually from the empire. We’ve heard about his laws. He forbids anyone to even speak of his death. Doing so puts you on the wrong end of a scythe.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. “The Isles of Fable are not a part of the Grundstoff Empire. So his laws do not apply here.”
“You’re one of his murks.”
“Not by choice.”
I sat up a bit at that. “It’s in the name, Daella. Mercenary. You’re his hired blade, doing his bidding for coin.”
“You’re right. I have a chest full of ice pennings and a bit of gold. Isveig has tried to keep me happy over the years, and he thought he could buy my loyalty. That doesn’t mean it was ever my decision.” Her cheeks were bright pink.
My heart pounded as I took in that fire in her eyes. Could I have been wrong about her? Surely not. Daella was infamous around these parts for doing whatever her emperor asked of her.
“So you never signed a contract?” I asked.
She loosed a breath. “No, I did sign a contract, but—”
“Then it was your choice.” I shoved back the chair and stood, gathering my plate and hers, before she could try to weave her words in a way that might get under my skin. I knew what she was doing. Fates be damned, I understood because I’d planned to do the same thing to her. She was trying to gain my trust by sharing just enough about her that I’d see her in a different light. Her words could be truths or lies. At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter. She was here to hunt down Draugr, but she had nothing to go on yet. And so she wanted to reel me in so that I might reveal something to her—accidentally or not.
“You know, for someone who hates the emperor, you don’t seem to have much empathy for a girl who has been forced to work for him against her will,” she quipped.
“We should talk about the Games.” Ignoring her, I moved over to the basin and dropped in the dishes before grabbing an old rag from the wood countertop. “As soon as the ceremony is over, the contestants are thrown right into the first challenge. We’ll have to start immediately if we get a place, and I’ll need your help.”
Daella came over to the basin and leaned against the countertop with crossed arms. “Let me guess. You need my sense of smell.” She tapped her nose.
Orcs were well known for their heightened senses, particularly when it came to fire magic. Sometimes, that extended to the other elements as well, but usually only earth and air. They clashed with water in more ways than one.
“I don’t think your sense of smell will help us with this first challenge,” I said. “We’re dealing with water, and I’ll have to go out on the lake in a boat.”
She flinched. “A freshwater lake?”
“That’s right. Last year, the contestants had to search the lake for the best fish, dive, and capture it in a net. The entire village feasted on the catches at a midnight party afterwards. It likely won’t be that again, but it will be something similar,” I said, scrubbing the dish and then setting it down on the fresh towel beside the sink. “But you don’t have to get in the water. I just need you to help me build the boat and make sure no one tries to sabotage us.”
“You mean to tell me your idyllic utopia has saboteurs?” she asked with a laugh. “And here I thought HeartHappy was all sunshine and rainbows.”
“Hearthaven,” I corrected, wiping the soap suds off my hands. “And we’ve only had one saboteur over the years. Knowing his luck, he’ll probably get a spot in the Games again.”
“Again? Sounds like a cheat.”
“In more ways than one,” I said wryly. “The second time he won, he asked the island to gift him a new paramour every year and then make the previous one forget he binned her, just in case he ever wanted to have her again.”
Daella’s eyes went wide, her lips curling into a snarl. “And the island gave that to him?”
“Absolutely not. It’s against the rules, as that hurts someone. A lot of someones. The problem is, he refuses to accept it.” A simmering fire went through my gut. He’d tried it, partially, to gain my sister’s affection. “So I’d watch out if I were you.”
“Oh, don’t you worry.” She frowned. “If he broke the rules, shouldn’t he be banned from the competition?”
“If only. His mother is Head of the Games, and she’s convinced everyone in Wyndale to give him another chance. But mark my words, he won’t be able to help himself.”
Daella let out a light, tinkling laugh, though the smile on her face was still strained—still fake. I couldn’t help but wonder when the last time she’d truly smiled was. Not even Skoll and his wagging tail had brought one out of her.
Her words whispered through my mind, though I knew I couldn’t trust them. Still, I wondered…was what she said about Isveig true? Was working for him not her choice?
But as she moved away, she rubbed her hand along her hip—right where a dagger would normally reside. The dagger I’d taken from her and tossed into the sea. My heart hardened, and I shoved away all my softening thoughts. I couldn’t trust anything she told me.
9
DAELLA
O ne moment, Rivelin was talking to me like a normal person would—in complete sentences that weren’t wrapped in barbwire, with relaxed shoulders and loose fists. But as we moved out of the kitchen, the grumpy elf I’d met on the beach came roaring back to life. He glared at me as he motioned to the front door and practically barked at me to open it.
I sighed. For a moment there, I thought I’d started to soften some of his hard edges, but no. He had his guard up again. Thankfully, even if Skoll picked up on Rivelin’s change in attitude, it didn’t make him stop wagging his tail. Such a cute little creature.
A bell clanged in the distance, winding through the morning symphony of birdsong.
The muscles around Rivelin’s eyes tightened. “It’s time for the opening ceremony. You need anything before we go?”
I plucked at the tunic’s hemline. “I know you don’t like to share much, but can I ask where you got this tunic? Does it belong to someone, like a sister or…an old lover?”