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“Eivor’s mine,” she said.

“She’s not.”

“Oh, but she is.”

“Lilja belongs in my world. She’s not cruel like you. She knows what it means to love.”

Alfrun’s pale eyes flashed with anger, and with a thrust, she pushed the staff into my chest. I gasped as the pain pulled the breath from my lungs.

Chapter Forty-One

Ihadn’t realized I was on my knees until I noticed the cold stone beneath me. Helena and Alma were crouching next to me. Alfrun was standing above me, the staff still in her hand. I wanted to tell Alma and Helena to run, that she might hurt them next, but I couldn’t get my throat to make a single sound.

Alma fumbled at the buttons of my coat and shirt and cold air hit my skin. “It’s deep,” she said. “You’re bleeding a lot.”

She pulled the wooden disc from her pocket and laid it against my chest, but I hardly noticed. My ears felt as if stuffed with cottonwool, and I couldn’t see Lilja. I tried to stand, but Helena pushed me back down. “Don’t move. It’ll only bleed more.”

“Lilja,” I managed.

“Eivor’s mine,” Alfrun said, lifting her staff again.

“It’s not working.” Alma’s voice was frantic but also far away. “It’s… the blood keeps coming. The wound isn’t closing. The magic’s not working.”

Alfrun smiled. “Of course. Do you really think a bit of carved wood would heal a wound by my staff?”

Alma was still scrambling at my chest. Her hands were covered in blood. Was it all mine? How did I even hold this much blood?

Helena glared up at Alfrun. “You’ll regret this. I’ll kill you myself and without the use of magic, but with my own goddamn bare hands.”

Someone appeared behind Alfrun.

Lilja.

“And then,” Helena spat, “then I’ll get all the goddamn dynamite in this world, and I’ll blow up this whole mountain, and there’ll be not a trace left of your dark and cruel kingdom and all of your treasures.”

Quick and quiet as a fox, Lilja stepped closer, lifted her arm, and pulled the blade of Alma’s knife across Alfrun’s throat. Blood cascaded down her front like a scarlet waterfall. The light in Alfrun’s eyes went out even before her spine collapsed. There was no one to catch her, no soldier coming to her aide, and she landed in a heap in the pool of her own blood at my feet.

Alma was still pressing the disc to my chest. “It’s still not working,” she said, and tears streamed down her face.

Lilja knelt on my other side. Shadows were pulsating at the edges of my view, darkening the hall. “Selma,” she said, “don’t close your eyes.”

I nodded because I still couldn’t speak. My feet and hands were cold. She pulled my shirt wide open. “Lie still,” she told me, and I did because there was not a single other thing I could have done. My limbs didn’t move when I tried. My body was no longer my own.

Lilja put the tip of her finger to my chest and traced a symbol in the blood. It hurt when she skirted the wound, but the pain was only distant.

“The rune for healing,” Alma said.

Lilja nodded. “Yes, that’s the first one.” She moved her finger down and traced another symbol.

“I don’t recognize that one,” Alma said.

“Erasure,” Lilja told her. “Of the magic.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“It’s rare. I’ve seen my father do it. The consequences of war.”

Lilja traced a third symbol.