Page 10 of Soul of Fire

The road to the castle was practically empty. Someone who didn’t know my brother might think it was due to the rain, but I knew he had ordered the way clear. He had always liked to feel his own importance, even when he had to manufacture it.

The few people who were out and about, mostly tradespeople and farmers, kept their eyes downcast as they huddled under awnings. The brave ones cast glances toward us, part curious and part terrified.

Edvard rode at the front, my father’s soldiers surrounding the four of us as we trudged slowly up the winding streets that led to the stronghold. The familiar sight of longhouses lining the streets, their open stalls now desolate despite usually bustling with trade, did nothing to temper the darker memories of my youth.

Memories that I hoped not to burden my mate with.

I glanced up to see that Edvard had replaced his helm, his head held high as we approached the castle. Its stone walls loomed over the small thatched roofs like a beast prepared to devour them.

The dragons don’t trust him,Eisa murmured, blue light arcing across my mind.

Few people do.I replied, gripping Eisa’s hand more tightly as she stumbled over the slippery cobblestones.But my father does, which is why he will ascend the throne and not me.

I sensed her next question as it floated across the bridge between our minds and answered before she could voice it.For many reasons, Kjære. Einar’s death is only the latest in a long list of my perceived offenses.

She frowned, her bright eyes flashing in a way that made my heart stutter.You and I need to practice shielding our thoughts from each other.

It doesn’t seem to be a problem for me.I refrained from pressing closer and breathing in her scent. My brother was nearby, and I could feel his eyes on us. After what he did at only sixteen, I had no doubt that his skill for cruelty had increased in the last two decades, and I’d be damned if I let him use Eisa in any of his games.Stay close to me when we get to Stormhold. If I can’t be with you, then stay with Jorgen.

Eisa’s concern rose in a wave between us.What do you think will happen to me?

Baldur growled, and I was certain my eyes had flashed to silver slits.Promise me. Please, Kjære.

Edvard will not touch her.The dragon wound his form, white and nebulous, protectively around Idunn’s blue light.

Arik, what aren’t you telling me?

Baldur pressed his comforting weight against the walls of my mind as we approached the castle, his voice pitched in a way that I knew only I could hear.No one shall touch her.

I loosened my grip on Eisa’s hand a fraction, reminding myself to breathe.It’s nothing. Stay close.

The castle was surrounded by a circular stone wall that mirrored the one that protected the city, with two main steel gates that served as entrances to the north and south. The walls were high and thick, the roughly carved stone fitting together in a way that made it nearly impossible to climb as a boy.

Before the iron gate that guarded the southern entrance of the keep was an ash tree, its trunk as wide as five men and its lower branches sprawled wide before the stone wall.

And from the lowest branch hung two bodies, one far advanced in the stages of decomposition, the other more…fresh.

Oh, gods.I turned Eisa’s face toward my shoulder as I heard Jorgen swear behind me as we were marched under the gate.Don’t look, Kjære.

Who were they?Eisa’s voice was hushed and shaky, and I cursed my father for his cruelty.

Likely thieves or petty criminals. My father subscribes to Einar’s views on punishment.

Einar never hanged anyone, did he?

No, but not out of the goodness of his heart.

“That was horrible,” Branka whispered behind us once the hanging tree was finally out of sight. Jorgen murmured something soothing in reply, but my mind was focused on my surroundings, once as familiar to me as the sharp sting of Einar’s whip against my back.

In contrast with the abandoned city streets beyond the wall, the inner ward was full of activity. The sounds of sword and steel on anvils clanged from barracks that housed the garrison, although there were far more soldiers in the training yard than were normally present at the castle, each wearing the colors or sigil of their jarl.

I frowned. Why were so many of the jarls here? Usually, they only came to Stormhold if their clan needed something, or if my father called them in.

“Halt!” Edvard called the procession to a stop and removed his helm.

I studied the man I’d once called a brother. I’d seen him in passing on previous visits when Einar had dragged me back here, but I’d done my best to avoid him. The knowledge that he would inherit the throne and command my allegiance made my stomach turn.

Twenty years had changed him. Something about him now struck me as hollow. His frame, always leaner than mine, was built with the strength of a man who had wielded a sword for the better part of his life—in training, if not actual battle—but his face was sharp. His skin pale.