And then, there—Kari floated ominously a few feet away, her eyes closed, her blood staining the blue a deep, dark red, the same color as her hair.
I started splashing toward her. That was when the pain hit me like a piercing rod.
I screamed, and bubbles swarmed my face. Still, I kept swimming toward Kari, my determination numbing the pain. I reached her a moment later, grabbed her arm, and tugged.
My lungs ached along with every inch of my skin. Black spots stormed across my vision.
I blindly swam, shoving aside thick pocketfuls of reeds. My mind warred against me with wave after wave of unyielding pain. It felt like I was on fire now.
My boots hit dirt and rock. Shuddering, I crawled forward, dragging Kari behind me. We rose from the depths of the lake, emerging on the bank where Rivelin had darted into the woods to hunt for the flag.
Water dripped into my eyes, blurring my sight. I pulled Kari up beside me and tried to find the strength within myself to check her breathing, but the scalding pain knocked me sideways. My body hit the ground.
A strong hand palmed my cheek. Steam hissed. “Fates be damned.”
And then the darkness took me.
15
RIVELIN
B y the time I got Daella back home, she’d started to wake, which made me more relieved than I wanted to consider. At first, I’d thought she might not make it. Her cheeks, the only bare skin I could see, were a blazing red, and I could only imagine what the rest of her looked like. Her breathing had gone shallow; she’d been limp in my arms as I’d made the long, slow trek back across the lake.
No one knew what medicine to give her. We’d never had an orc in the Isles, and her wounds were unlike anything we’d ever seen.
I kicked open the door and settled her onto the bed. Her waterlogged body hissed as I brushed the strands of wet hair out of her eyes. A hoarse breath spilled from her pale lips as she blinked up at me.
“Tell me what to do,” I said quietly.
She moaned and writhed on the bed, clawing at the clothes.
I nodded. “You need to get out of those so we can get you dry.”
Coughing, she weakly picked at the bottom hem of her shirt, but then she shook her head.
“Help,” she croaked out.
“Fucking Gregor,” I muttered as I moved to her side. He was the reason she was like this, and if I hadn’t hated the elf already this would have been the final straw. He’d always pushed things too far, but this was on an entirely different level. If the people of Wyndale couldn’t agree to boot him out of here, I’d find a way to get rid of him myself.
As gently as I could, I undid the clasps securing Daella’s oilskin leathers in place, and then tugged them off her arms. Beneath, her sleeveless tunic was soaked through, and angry red welts enveloped her arms. She hissed through clenched teeth, barely conscious. Rage burned through my veins.
“Please get the rest of it off me,” she whispered up at me.
“Are you certain? I could go get Lilia. I know you don’t trust—”
“No time,” she breathed. “Just take it all off. It’s only skin.”
And so I did, taking care to avert my gaze as I pulled the tunic over her head. I passed her a towel, which she clutched to her chest while I moved on to her boots and her trousers. The wet material was hot in my hands as I tugged it from her trembling body. I continued not to look, as best I could. Until a flash of blue snagged my attention.
An angry red mark stretched across her right hip. Embedded just beneath the skin was a large shard made of ice, its blue glow throbbing ominously. It looked like someone had cut her open and shoved the thing in. Years ago, judging by the scar. But it had never fully healed.
A preternatural stillness took over my body, a remnant of my battle training from before my life in Wyndale.
“What,” I asked in a deadly calm, “is that?”
She closed her eyes and tugged the towel over her hips to hide the scar. “It’s a magicked ice shard.”
“What does it do? And who put it there? Who cut you open like that?”
But I already knew the answer. I’d known the second I saw it. There was only one being in the entire world who could have done it.
“Isveig.”
I sat back and averted my gaze as she finished toweling off her body. She was shivering less now, but her occasional gasps told me she was still very much in pain. I stalked off to the cupboard down the hall and brought out some fresh linens for the bed. The ones on there now would be soaked through, still irritating her back. I also pulled out another pair of nightclothes, the last clean set I had. At this rate, I’d have to ask Tilda for some more.
When I returned to the bedroom, Daella had inched off the wet patch to the drier side of the bed, and she’d covered her front with the towel. I set the fresh linens on the trunk and swallowed at the marks all over her legs. Those had to hurt like hell.
“Do you need me to help you get dressed?” I asked.
“No, just give me a few moments. Do you have any more of that salt? For the welts.”
“I can find some.”
“All right.” She sighed. “Can you just…give me half an hour or so? This is going to take me a little time.”
“You sure you don’t want help?”
“No, no. I just need to rest for a bit. I’m in quite a lot of pain.”
I frowned. “I’ll get you that salt.”
I stormed into the village square, where everyone had gathered after the challenge. Unlike the days before, the celebration tonight was muted. Groups were gathered at the tables, drinking ale and talking amongst themselves, but the lack of laughter and cheerful bard tunes felt like an ominous cloud had settled over Midsummer.
Lilia spotted me from her ever-present spot beside her wagon. She rushed over and grabbed my hands. “Is Daella all right?”
“No,” I said, my voice clipped. “Where’s Gregor?”
She shook her head. “Haven’t seen him.”
“And Kari?”
“She’s got a broken nose, but she’ll be all right.”
“Good.” I started to move away.
Lilia called after me, “Don’t do anything foolish, Rivelin.”
I just grunted and kept walking through the square. The cheerful paper streamers and flowers only dampened my mood even further, particularly when I found Odel and Haldor covertly perched on some crates in an alley just beyond the square, whispering excitedly like the day had borne some drama-filled gossip.
I scowled as I approached them. “Enjoying this, are we? Maybe we should change the rules and allow assault during every Midsummer Games.”
Odel fell silent and gave me a frank look. “Kari has a busted nose, but she’s fine.”
“Gregor attacked her. He needs to be disqualified from the Games, and then kicked off Hearthaven.”
“Well.” Haldor sucked on his teeth for a moment, squinting up at the sky. “Problem is, Kari went for him first, and you know the rules. Technically, she’s in the wrong here. She’s withdrawn from the competition.”
“You must be joking,” I said flatly.
“Rules are rules, Riv,” Odel sighed. “If we bend them for this, you know that’ll mean others start pushing the boundaries of what they can and can’t do.”