The Girl the Sea Gave Back(18)

CHAPTER SEVEN


TOVA


The morning frost covered the ground around us as we moved through the trees. It glittered in the early light, turning everything to crystal. The days had been warm and damp with the spring storms coming in from the sea, but the cold had crept in during the night.

It was a warning, just like the nighthawk.

The Svell checked their armor and weapons in silence as we lined up before the glade, where Bekan stood before the sunlit grass. I studied the serene look on Vigdis’ face as he took his place beside his brother.

He and Jorrund had spent the morning speaking in hushed whispers, their breaths fogging between them as they rode side by side ahead of me. The chill crept up my spine as I watched Jorrund from the corner of my eye. There was something buried deep beneath the calm on his face. Some unsteady, wavering thing in his eyes that I could just barely see.

Gunther took his place in front of us, leaving me for the first time since Vigdis ordered him to watch me. He’d been careful to not so much as look at me as we rode through the night, keeping his distance. The truth was that even though Vigdis had meant his presence to be a looming threat, having Gunther at my back made me feel safer. And now, as we stepped into the glade and Jorrund’s smooth exterior seemed to be crumbling, I found myself taking a small step closer to where Gunther stood.

“Stay beside me.” Jorrund spoke lowly in my ear.

The Svell stood like statues, their eyes watching the tree line across the glade. Jorrund’s gaze was fixed on the brothers, his arms crossed over his chest and his fingers tapping his elbows nervously. He was worried. Scared, even. The weight of the rune cast had settled down on every aged bone and sore muscle in his body and it all came down to this moment.

The warriors shifted on their feet and I looked up just as movement in the shadow of the trees ahead appeared. Bekan lifted one hand into the air, mumbling something to Vigdis, whose jaw clenched as the Nādhir appeared across the stretch of dead winter grass, still half-hidden in the trees.

Bekan reached for the clasp on his chest and unbuckled it, taking the sword sheath over his shoulder and holding it out to Vigdis, but his brother only stared at him.

“You started this. Now, you’re going to finish it.” Bekan looked him in the eye, his face streaked with the blood of a raven Jorrund had sacrificed to Eydis at sunrise.

Vigdis gritted his teeth, insulted. It was an order that took Bekan’s rebuke even further. One that he made before the other leaders and one that Vigdis’ dignity wouldn’t recover from easily. It was a foolish move for the chieftain, stoking the flame of his brother’s anger when he needed him most.

After a moment, Vigdis took the sword, fitting the sheath to his own back. It was Siv who didn’t take her eyes from him, her lip curled over her teeth, but Vigdis didn’t meet her gaze. He stared ahead to the opening in the trees, and a strange feeling pulled in the back of my mind. There were too many unspoken words between them—Bekan, Jorrund, Vigdis, and Siv. They were like steam trapped in a kettle, the lid rattling.

Bekan looked back to Jorrund before he gave the signal and we walked forward, leaving the cool of the forest and stepping into the warmth of the glade. I let my hand hover beside me, the tops of the grass pulling through my fingertips, and watched around us for any sign of the Spinners. But the clearing was quiet. And maybe that was the omen I’d missed. It was too quiet.

The Nādhir stopped in the center of the clearing and we walked until we’d met them, the line of Svell keeping back as Bekan and Vigdis moved ahead. They stopped before the Nādhir chieftain and a man with a braided beard the color of an autumn sunset. He let his weight sink into one leg, the other obviously weak, but he stood up tall, his chin lifted.

The two clans that made up the Nādhir were mixed together, their armor and weapons blending almost seamlessly in the line of warriors. My gaze drifted over them until it stopped on the face of a young man clad in red leathers. His dark hair was pulled into a braid over his shoulder, the stray pieces tucked behind his ears. His pale eyes were on the red-bearded man, his angled jaw tight.

But there was something strange about him. Something …

Bekan began to speak but a deep hum sounded in the glade, growing like a hive of bees. No one seemed to notice, their attention on the men before us, and I tilted my head, trying to listen. It reverberated like the crash of a waterfall, growing with each breath until it filled the inside of my skull.

My attention went back to the young Nādhir and as if he could feel my stare, he suddenly turned, his eyes meeting mine. A sharp prick rolled over my skin, my hands clenching into my linen skirt.

Because he didn’t look away.

His stare bored into mine, making me feel suddenly unbalanced on my feet.

“What is it?” Jorrund whispered beside me, but I could barely hear him over the sound in my head.

A hissing, like water over coals. And it was getting louder. “Do you hear that?” I pressed my palm to my ear and the Nādhir’s brow furrowed, his eyes falling from my face to the marks on my neck.

Jorrund’s hand clamped down on my arm as Vigdis unsheathed the jeweled sword, and I pulled my gaze from the Nādhir when Bekan began to speak. But something about the look of Vigdis was wrong. The coil around his bones that had been there since Bekan reprimanded him in Liera was no longer there. He stood tall, his shoulders drawn down and his face smooth. Like the still calm that settled before death.