Page 77 of The Ashborn

To where no stars dare shine nor sing.

Let the sea forget what fire stole

Eldyr will not take away your soul.

Like our ships, the Vikings will rise again

Beneath Eldyr’s betrayal.”

As the last word trailed from his lips, the clouds opened and revealed the stars. Lief’s voice ripped into the night and lingered there. Ingrid beamed proudly, though Lief fidgeted with his hands. Broan puffed out a large cloud of air. “Well, fuck.”

“Our father scorns it, but only ‘cause it’s the part of Lief that’s his own kind o’ special,” Ingrid said, placing her hand on her brother’s shoulder. Lief looked up and smiled.

“I have follow-up questions,” Broan said. “What is Eldyr’s betrayal?”

Ingrid’s scowl returned. “It’s what we call the night our god failed us. The night you were taken from us.”

Lief glanced toward the jagged spires across the city, wind brushing the back of their necks now. “When the magic king burned the fleet, Eldyr did not send waves nor tide. As if Eldyr turned his back on them.”

Broan shifted. The snow seeped into his boots, and his toes cried for warmth. They’d been up there long enough, but Lief’s explanation about his song sparked another flame inside him. He blew hot air into his hands, then asked, “Who is Skald? The bastard visited me in the Meadhouse earlier.”

Lief went rigid. “Skald doesn’t visit without good reason. He’s our lorekeeper.”

“He said something about a throne and some Ashborn.”

“Skald pinned you as the road to the Ashborn?” Ingrid’s eyes grew wide. “Fuck! Our father is going to be pissed.”

Broan shrugged. “What for?”

Ingrid laughed dryly as the whistling wind returned. “He’ll approve your damn alliance. He has to, now.”

Chapter 30

—Kienna—

Early morning mist dripped from the vines that clung to the walls in between the alleys. Kienna took her time walking to the workshop, having barely slept the night before. Ruva nuzzled her shoulder. They walked in silence, for which Kienna was grateful. She needed the quiet to process her thoughts—to figure out when she started noticing Danek as anything more than a friend. She traced it all the way back to when he healed Ash, giving everything he had to make sure she kept the man she was unaware was her grandfather. With the hints that Connak laid in front of her, frustration gnawed at her.

Could any part of herself be her own?

Kienna turned the corner and stared at the front door. She needed to go in and apologize to Ash. To tell him she was sorry for disappearing and almost dying. They had deadlines. She had to finish painting the table, and they had the ship’s planks to engrave. He’d crumble if anything happened to her. The weight of it all struck her chest with lightning. Kienna clutched it and pushed her back against the door as she slid to the ground.

Breathe, Little Flame, Ruva whined, pancaking toward her. The wolf pressed her head into Kienna’s lap, her weight calming the sudden aches.

It was easier being alone.

Ruva licked Kienna’s hand. The smell of morning lilies wafted in the air as their petals opened with the sun’s rays. A cool breeze drifted by, blowing Kienna’s hair over her face. Ruva stood and nudged the strands out of the way. It was never easier being alone. You grew used to it.

What if I can’t be more than Vaerin’s pawn?

Ruva growled, her lips foaming around the edges. He is evil. You are not.

How do I know?

What do you mean, how do you know? You choose.

Kienna closed her eyes, letting Ruva’s body plop on her again. She could have stayed like that forever, but the sound of hinges creaked against the silence as the door to the workshop opened. Kienna fell backward, her head hitting a boot. Her heart surged through her throat. Ruva gnawed at the leather corset around her waist to keep her steady.

Ash stood above her, an amused smirk playing on his face. “You look like shit.”