“Someone is already pushing the boundaries. And if we let him get away with it, he’ll do something else. Something that could get someone actually killed. And next time, we might not have an orc willing to jump into a literal lake of fire—as far as she’s concerned—in order to stop it.”
“How is Daella, anyway?” she asked, her voice going soft.
“In a lot of fucking pain.”
“Thank her for us, will you?” Haldor cut in. “That took a lot of moxie.”
“And compassion,” Odel added. “Think we might have been wrong about her?”
I thought back to what she’d told me about her captivity and what Isveig had put in her hip. But I also remembered the hatred in her voice when she’d spoken of dragons. “Perhaps.”
“I suppose this won’t have endeared her to us much,” she said, furrowing her brow. “Can you manage to turn it around? You two looked pretty cozy on that raft. The plan to charm her must be coming along well.”
“I’m not having this conversation. I came here to ask you about Gregor. Where is he?”
They exchanged a glance. Haldor rubbed the base of his horns. “He vanished after the challenge. No one knows where he’s gone, not even his mother. At least, that’s what she says. Could be lying.”
“You tell her I’m looking for him. Tell everyone you see.”
“Don’t do anything foolish, Rivelin,” Odel said, edging closer with a frown. “I know you’re angry, but he technically hasn’t done anything wrong. You can’t touch him.”
I narrowed my gaze at her. “Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”
“Your anger has a short fuse and you have a violent past. We all know that.”
“I’ve never lifted a finger against anyone on this island.”
“And let’s keep it that way, eh?” Haldor clapped my back.
I shook my head at the both of them, shrugged his hand off my shoulder, and left them to their gossip. I shouldn’t get so irritated. They only wanted to keep the peace, like all of us did. That was why we had our rules in the first place, and no need for a prison. Everyone yearned to keep our safe haven the way it was: a calm oasis tucked away from the brutal realities of the Grundstoff Empire. A place where there was no fighting, no bloodshed, no crime and punishment and all the dirty work that went with it. And most of the time, it was exactly that.
On my way back home, I stopped by the apothecary to pick up some more salt, noting the evening chill now that the sun had crept behind Mount Forge in the distance. The sky was streaked with periwinkle blues and crimson reds, and most of the village would be watching from the square.
Back home, Daella was curled up in the armchair with Skoll pacing beside her. Her face was still red, but her eyes were a little brighter now. As I approached, she pushed up from the chair, grimacing.
I held up the bag of salt. “Got your medicine.”
She nodded and motioned toward the kitchen. “I just need a bowl of water and some mud, or even dirt, to make a paste.”
“I’ll get it.” I handed her the bag and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and filling it from the spout. The mud was next. I took a handful from the back garden and tossed it into a second bowl. When I returned to the living room, I found Daella peering out the window, her body still trembling from her ordeal.
“Your skies. They’re beautiful.” She sighed and turned around. Pain lined every inch of her red-stained face. “Best get the salt paste on these welts or they may leave scars. I was in the lake too long.”
I couldn’t have explained why the thought popped into my head, but I found myself saying, “Think you can climb a ladder?”
“What, now?”
“We can watch the sunset from the roof while we fix up your wounds. Might make this whole ordeal seem…well, less terrible, I suppose. I know nothing will really make it right, but—”
“Let’s do it,” she said firmly.
And there it was. That spark in her eyes—the real one. The orc liked sunsets. Noted.
I motioned for her to follow me outside, where I’d propped an old ladder against the house. It was a rickety thing that shook as we climbed, but it did the job well enough. Balancing the supplies, I followed Daella as she gingerly edged her way upward. More than once, I thought about suggesting we do this another day, but she seemed determined as fate to make it up there.
When she reached the top, she clambered across the brown slates and stood gazing toward Mount Forge in the distance. Her entire body seemed to exhale, like she’d just released a breath she’d been holding all her life. A little surge of pride went through me. I knew she’d like this.
I put the bowls on the roof and hauled myself up behind her.
“You come up here a lot,” she said, still gazing ahead at the vibrant sky.
“Most evenings,” I admitted.
She turned toward me and motioned at the village square a few streets over. From here, it was easy to see the packed tables and the bustling Traveling Tavern. A bard had taken to the stage now, and lilting music drifted toward us on the wind.
“And what about them? Do they sit there watching the skies every night?”
“When the weather’s good, a lot of them do.”
“But you stay here and don’t join them. How come?”
“Let’s focus on getting your wounds tended,” I said, changing the subject. “What do we need to do?”
She sighed and settled down on the roof, kicking her legs over the sloped side. “Just hand me the bowls, and I’ll sort out the paste.”
So I did, and she got to work. Dropping some salt in the water first, she waited for it to seep in, and then she added some of the salt water to the dirt. She tested it with a timid touch, gave a satisfied nod, and then mixed it all together.
While she spread some of the paste across the welts on her arm, I decided now was the time to broach the subject. “So what happened out there, Daella?”
She stiffened and then slathered another welt with some paste. “Gregor attacked Kari and then left her to drown. The others were hiding from him, I think. No one else was around to go after her.”
“You saved her life.”
“Anyone else would have done the same thing,” she said, still dabbing the saltwater mud onto her wounds.
“I’m not sure that’s true.”
“Hmm. Is he gone?”
“Gregor? I don’t know. Some hope he’s gone, but he’s not out of the Games. Rules say he was just protecting himself. I hate it, but that’s how it is.”
She sighed and moved on to her legs, rolling up the soft linen trousers. There were at least ten welts marring her green skin, but they weren’t as angry as the ones on her arms. “He’s not gone, not with that determination to win. Whatever he wants to ask the island, it must be big. Any idea what it is?”
“No, it’s against the rules. No one ever shares what they plan to ask. We don’t want it to influence the spectators when they put in their votes.”
“So he could want something terrible.”
“Knowing him, he most certainly does.”