Silence fell as she continued to work with the paste, but it was an easy kind of quiet, the kind that felt like a long nap in the sun. I leaned back against the roof and laced my hands behind my head, watching the pinks and reds of the sky succumb to the midnight blues of night. We sat like that for a good long while until Daella was done with the medicine. The fireflies had come out to play, darting overhead beneath the silver of the moon. Down in the market square, the bard still sang. This time, he was on to a tune about the dwarven city deep inside the Glass Peaks.
Daella settled onto the roof beside me. “Thanks for giving me this.”
“The sunset? Can’t say it’s mine to give, but I’m glad it could ease some of…today’s shit.”
“The sunset, yes. But everything else, too. I was in bad shape.”
“I’m sorry, Daella. If I win, I will make sure he’s gone, if I can’t find a way to get rid of him before then. He doesn’t deserve this place.”
She slid her eyes my way. “What exactly is it you’re going to ask for if you win? I know you said you don’t share that with anyone before the end of the Games, but…well, I’m your assistant, and I think I’ve earned it after today.”
I chuckled. “That you did.”
“So?” She raised her brow, and I couldn’t help but notice how the moon’s glow amplified the shine of her eyes. “What is it, then?”
“I told you. I’m going to make sure Emperor Isveig can never harm anyone who is a part of this place.”
“And you can just ask that? ‘Dear Isles of Fable, please ensure Emperor Isveig never hurts anyone who lives here.’”
“No, others have tried that kind of thing in the past,” I admitted. “You have to be more specific with your wording.”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” She sat up and wound her arms around her rolled-up trouser legs, gazing ahead at the twinkling lanterns of Wyndale. From up here, I often thought the sprawl of it across the hills looked like a reflection of the starlight above. A distant marvel, one I could survey but never quite know—always just beyond my reach.
I sat up beside her. “I’m going to ask it to make an unbreakable rule for those who find these islands. No one can come or go who will cause us harm if they do so. That way, Isveig will never step foot in Wyndale nor will he know what’s here.”
Daella stiffened.
I frowned. “And that bothers you? If what you’ve told me is true, you will cause us no harm.”
She hastily stood, the roof tiles wobbling beneath her bare feet. “You know why I’m here. I’m to track down Draugr in the Glass Peaks and take them to Isveig. I was ordered to do it, which means I have to. You don’t think that’s harm?”
I rose beside her, noting her tortured expression. “Well, then you won’t be able to leave if I win. Is that really so terrible? You’d be free from him if you stayed.”
Tears filled her eyes. She yanked up her tunic to reveal the ice shard embedded in her skin.
“You asked me what this is and what it does,” she whispered furiously. “Well, at the moment, it does nothing, as long as I do what the emperor commands. But if I don’t…” She closed her eyes, and a tear streaked down her reddened cheek. “If I don’t return to him within six weeks—five weeks now, I think—then he will use the power of the shard against me. It only takes one whispered word from him, and it will turn me into a block of ice. He will kill me.”
16
DAELLA
T he pity in Rivelin’s eyes hurt more than the welts did. Physical pain I understood, but not this…this rawness around my heart. I’d spent so much of my life trying to pack all the emotion into crates inside my mind, nailed shut forever so that no one like Isveig could use them against me. Could use me.
The people at court in Fafnir Castle had often stared at me with mocking smiles or blatant curiosity. The Draugr I’d tracked down gaped at me in fear. No one had ever looked at me like they felt sorry for me, especially not someone who would happily condemn me to die in this place. This situation had damaged those carefully sealed crates, and the emotions burst through.
I started to shove past Rivelin. I couldn’t let him see me cry. But he gently grabbed my hand before I made it to the ladder.
“Daella, wait,” he murmured as the steam rose between us.
I blinked, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I can’t have this conversation with you.”
“Isveig is the enemy. Not me.”
“Aren’t you?”
He pressed his lips together. “I don’t have to be.”
“Then don’t ask the island to prevent people from leaving. Don’t force me to stay here if you win.”
“Isveig can never know anything more about us than he already does.”
“But why?” I asked. “If he can’t come here, what does it matter?”
“I cannot say.”
I swallowed as he stepped in close, and I tipped back my head to meet his stare. “I know you want to protect these islands from Isveig’s conquering army, but it’s more than that. There’s something here you want to hide from him, and even if I hate him—even if I balk at his every command—I agree with him about the Draugr. Dragon magic users are volatile and dangerous. They will burn this whole world down if someone doesn’t stop them. Not just the Grundstoff Empire. The Isles, too. And you would stand in my way if I tried to prevent it.”
He released my arm, but he did not step back. “There are no Draugr in the Isles.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Believe it or not, but you won’t find them here.”
“The dwarves said—”
“The dwarves were lying. They were probably trying to lure Isveig to their mountain city. Most don’t know this, but they were once great allies to the orcs. To your old king. He knew about the Glass Peaks when he was still alive.”
My brows shot high. “Lure him here? To kill him?”
“Perhaps.”
“I thought you had a law against violence and bloodshed on the islands.”
“On Hearthaven. The dwarves do things differently over in the Glass Peaks.”
My heart pounded as I gazed up at him, at the line of silvery moonlight that ran along his defined, angular jaw. A part of me wanted to believe him—desperately so. I did not want to doom the folk of Wyndale.
But I knew Rivelin was lying. He had to be. Why else would the stench of dragons be so strong?
As if in answer to my thoughts, the ice shard throbbed, but the pain was nothing compared to the welts.
“I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” I said.
Rivelin’s luminous eyes searched my face. “This shard in your hip. I’ll help you figure something out.”
I could only shake my head and laugh bitterly. “I’ve been trying to figure something out for years. There is no solution.”
He watched me go as I wearily climbed down the ladder. I hadn’t been lying. Everything inside me ached for bed. And despite all the thoughts and warring emotions tumbling through my mind, I fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow.