I stood, clearing my throat, but kept my eyes locked on the glass jar at my feet. “As Rivelin has not formally withdrawn from the Midsummer Games, this is his entry for the Vindur Trial. He sent his assistant here on the back of his dragon as a beautiful demonstration of the power of air. You do not need to be afraid. She will not harm you.”
And then I lifted my eyes to the meadow. Hundreds of shocked faces stared back at me.
Mabel stood right in the front, one hand on her cane and the other clutching her heart. She beamed at me and waved. Just beside her, Hege, the dwarf candidate who had withdrawn, walked forward, her steps purposeful. When she reached the stage, she shot me a wink and dropped two pebbles into the jar.
“Viggo should have known better than to go up against an orc. Glad you’re back, Daella.” Then she moved back to the crowd, where her wife, Nina, was waiting for her. The pixie gave me an encouraging smile.
Confused, I scanned the crowd. Some of the spectators looked surprised, yes, but no one was screaming or crying or fleeing from the meadow—from me. In fact, more were moving toward the stage now with their final pebble in their hands. I’d expected them to hate and fear me after everything that had happened, and yet they were acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
As elves and dwarves and humans edged forward to add their vote to the jar, Haldor wandered over from the merchant stalls. His hands were slung into his pockets, and he wore an easy smile. All the tension he’d held in his body the last time I’d seen him was gone. And he didn’t seem at all bothered that a fire-breathing dragon now squatted on the stage.
“Daella,” he said, his tone friendly. “I see Rivelin must have found you.”
“You knew he was searching for me?”
“Of course I did. As soon as Mabel helped him figure out what Viggo was up to, he came straight to me and Odel. We’re a team, you know. Or at least, that’s how I’ve always wanted it to be. Riv hasn’t always been keen to share things with us. Seems he’s changed a bit, for the better.”
Something in my chest warmed, but the heat died just as quickly. “We have a problem, Haldor. I need you to declare that Rivelin has won the Games.”
He frowned. “I assume he’s on his way back, isn’t he? Don’t you want to wait for him?”
“There’s no time,” I insisted, dropping my voice to a soft whisper so that no one else could hear. “I just spotted Isveig’s ships heading this way. I need to say the words that will protect this island. Now.”
The fire demon’s face went pale, even his horns. “That would mean trusting you with the island’s gift.”
“I know. But I am not the enemy. He is.”
Haldor swallowed, then nodded, joining me on the stage. He clapped his hands to interrupt the crowd’s murmured conversation, and an eerie silence swept through the festival. Every face turned our way, and those near the base of the stage quickly added their votes to the jar and fell still.
“I think it’s safe to say that Rivelin and his assistant Daella, being the only contestants left and providing us all with quite the spectacle today—” The crowd cheered, interrupting Haldor’s speech. He held up his hands to hush them. “—are therefore the winners of this year’s Midsummer Games!”
If I’d thought the crowd was jubilant before, they were practically feral now. They cheered and danced and leapt through the air, spinning with wild abandon. A bard appeared from seemingly nowhere and jumped to the stage beside us, breaking out into an upbeat tune.
Hofsa pushed through the chaos and joined us. She lifted a wreath of wildflowers over my head and draped it around my neck before placing another like a crown on top of my hair. Then she handed me, almost reverently, a very small leather pouch.
I opened it up and looked inside, scenting it. At the bottom of the pouch were four grains of sand, each a different color. My heartbeat quickened. This was Galdur sand.
“What’s this for?” I asked her. “I thought you couldn’t find any sand on the Isles.”
“We seem to find four grains every year, one for each element. Go drop them in the well and ask the island for what you wish.”
Nodding, I clutched the pouch to my chest and mounted Aska’s back once more. Flying would be the quickest way to reach the well with the crowd as wild as it was. Moments later, we were airborne, and the exuberant shouts of the crowd followed us all the way there.
I risked a glimpse of the sea just before we landed. The ships had grown closer. They would have no doubt sighted Hearthaven now. The Isles would no longer be a fabled tale, but at least I would be able to stop Isveig from reaching their shores.
I only wished Rivelin were here with me to do it. All this had been his idea.
Still, there was no time to wait for his return, and he might very well try to stop me now, if he knew what I planned. He wanted me to return to Fafnir to find that book, but the island might refuse to let me leave once I made the wish.
So when Aska landed a few feet from the wishing well, I slid off her back and hurried toward it. I gripped the side, careful not to squash the flowers and vines, and dropped the four grains of sand into the depths. They vanished in the blink of an eye.
I breathed deeply, then said, “As the assistant of this year’s winner of the Midsummer Games, I’ve come to you with my request.” I spoke quickly, not needing to consider my words. I’d thought about Rivelin’s wish so many times in the past few weeks, it was engraved into my mind. And I had a way to improve it, just a bit. “No one can come to the Isles of Fable who will cause this place or anyone within it harm, and if anyone is already here who will cause harm, the island will find an appropriate solution.”
There. I stepped back. I’d done it.
36
DAELLA
I took a moment to breathe before returning to the celebration, exhaustion and hunger sapping the last dregs of my energy now that my quest was ended. Aska sat near the well, swishing her spiked tail back and forth across the dirt road, reminding me a lot of Skoll. As I settled onto one of the crates that were nestled in the vines and flowers, I gave her a grateful smile.
“Thank you for all of this,” I said. “I promise it will be worth it when I get those treats from Mabel. Plus, you’ll be safe from Isveig a little while longer. You’re going to have to figure out how to protect yourself when you’re older, though. Never fly near Fafnir, all right? No matter what.”
She merely blinked at me.
Hurried footsteps pounded the dirt, and I braced myself to get swept up into the rollicking crowd. They’d want to know what I’d asked for, and then they’d likely drag me back to the meadow to join the celebration. As this was Midsummer itself, I imagined the party would endure far into the night, likely until dawn. At least I would finally get to eat, so long as the island did not find a way to rid itself of me first.
But it was Rivelin who rushed around the corner, his tunic rumpled, his hair disheveled, and sweat beading on his brow. When he saw me, he slowed to a stop and sucked in a great lungful of air. He took in the flowers around my neck and on my head, and the dragon perched nearby. His face crumpled as he strode toward me.
“What have you done? Where is the sand?”