Page 268 of The Sun He Buried

The treaty’s kept Skorvær inside Náströnd longer than any living ruler remembers. Humans call the borders peace. Varrik called them a cage while a bound woman sat in front of him.

The grievance remains true.

His methods made it monstrous.

Killing the general removed one man. It did nothing to the border that made his cause useful.

“Bring me every treaty copy in the archive,” I say.

Ketill studies me.

“You intend to change it.”

“I intend to end the cage.”

“The human courts may object.”

“They should practice.”

Ketill nods.

He looks past me toward the Hall.

Solveih comes down the steps with Asta on one side and Snowpetal limping on the other. The purple cloak has been cleaned as far as it’ll allow. A dark stain remains along the hem.

Baldr waits beside the lead wagon.

Clear sky stretches above the pines. Cold sunlight reaches every roof the storm tried to bury.

Ketill’s attention returns to me.

“And Snowpetal?”

“Double the watch.”

“That’ll protect the border.”

“For now.”

Snowpetal reaches the yard and attacks the end of Asta’s braid.

Asta removes it from her mouth.

The Sanguir tries again.

Varrik’s people will come for her. Other factions will follow once the story travels far enough. A living predator, small enough to carry and strong enough to open a Skorvær throat, will turn every frightened ruler in Náströnd toward Myrkviðr.

They’ll come for Solveih too.

I made the mistake of showing them exactly what taking her means.

They’ll calculate better next time.

Baldr mounts. Solveih hugs him before he can stop her.

He closes both arms around her. His eyes shut above her curls.

Then he releases her and steps back.