Page 46 of Soul of Fire

I swallowed, and Kindra gave me a nudge.No secrets.

“That the Rift is growing.” This part Serrilda knew, but the next was a suspicion that I needed more information to verify. Still, it helped no one if I kept the theory to myself.

I thought of the growing scar, of the dark mass of monsters that had emerged from the Rift to attack me the other day. Of the shifting ice and the fact that I wasn’t sure if I could trust my own eyes.

I blew out a heavy breath as I met Serrilda’s serious gaze. “And that something is trying to get out.”

Chapter fourteen

Arik

“Thisismadness,”Arneshouted, the only man not afraid to say what every one of us was thinking. He was standing, his body practically quivering in rage as he stared down my father.

“The drage do not leave the Odemark.” I rose to join him, and I gave a silent prayer of thanks that the surprise I felt at my father’s latest scheme wasn’t betrayed by the tone of my voice. Arne was right—invading the fae lands was tantamount to a suicide mission, and I couldn’t for the life of me think why my father would want to take such a risk. “Our place is in the south defending Stalheim.”

“And what is there to defend?” My father laughed, the sound void of mirth as the other jarls looked on in disbelief. “A people who are likely to starve, if not this winter, then within the next few years?”

“Explain.” It was one of the jarls from the northern territories, and the look my father gave him could melt glass. “If you—please. Sire.”

My father pointed to the map, to the northern territory the jarl controlled. “Tell me, Hans, what lies to the north of your territory?”

“The Deep Wood,” Hans replied, his beard quivering.

“And how much trade do we do with the shifters in that realm?”

“Why, none, Sire.”

“And you, Arne.” He turned next to my uncle. “How much trade has come from the dwarves of late? Our markets used to be flooded with their iron tools and meat from their beasts.”

Arne frowned, his eyes narrowed at my father. “Less than previous years.”

“It is none, and you well know it! The dwarves have turned against us. Their treaty with the new fae queen means they will not produce iron for us—iron that the fae fear. And you.” The king turned to one of the western jarls. “What of trade with the elven lands?”

“T-there is none, sire.” All eyes turned to stare at the three western jarls, and I blinked in surprise. The elves had been strong partners in trade for hundreds of years. “Not for at least a year now.”

“This is the problem,” my father announced, turning back to the map. He pointed to the west. “The elves suffer an endlesswinter and cannot trade.” Then to the north. “The shifters trade with no one, man nor fae alike, and keep to themselves.” He moved his finger to the northeast, where the mountains that hid the Dwarven Realm stood like a barrier between us and the rest of the continent. “The dwarves have forsaken us because of their new allies.” And finally landed on Ironholm. “And the south is plagued with monsters that we must fight using the meager resources that remain.”

“But the midlands thrive, Sire,” one of the older jarls declared. I recognized him as one of the three midlands chieftains who sent their tithes in grain rather than coin. “There is enough food to sustain us.”

“For now.” The king’s voice darkened. “But we are a populous race. The elves and dwarves and fae are slow to reproduce, but our numbers have grown by the thousands every year and will continue to do so.” He cast a serious look around the room. “My advisors inform me we have no more than two winters before we begin to feel the pinch of rationing. Three before we must begin to limit childbearing. Five at most before the people begin to starve in earnest.”

“We cannot limit childbearing!” one of the southern jarls cried in alarm. “A man needs at least two or three sons to carry on his name.” Several other jarls murmured in agreement, and I saw Edvard roll his eyes.

“Then let us trade farther north,” another northern jarl suggested. “The orcs will gladly trade for human women. We could send them some of our thralls.”

Another grumble of agreement boiled my blood. Of course the jarls would not condemn selling more women into slavery if it kept their own bellies full.

“Or the Demon King and Witch Queen might–”

“We do not need the black magic of the witches in these lands,” my father snapped, forcing the jarl to take a step back as spittle flew from my father’s mouth. “And trade with the orcs will buy us a few years at most. We need land, gentlemen. The only arable land within striking distance is fae land.”

“And yer willing to risk our sons and daughters in a battle where they will be slaughtered by wind and fire wielders?” Arne asked, a brow raised.

“We have our own fire wielders,” the king replied, looking at me. I clenched my jaw as he turned back to the jarls. “And the fae have an untested queen. We need more space than the meager territory we have, pushed to the bottom of the continent where we face the fewest resources and highest threats.”

“Threats of our own making.” All eyes turned to me. “It was a human sorcerer who opened the Rift. Who cursed the Odemark to an icy wasteland rife with monsters we do not understand. If wecould close the Rift—“

The room erupted in a burst of laughter, and I felt Baldur growl in irritation deep in my chest.Do they not know who we are?