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“You believe him?”

“I don’t know. But if he is telling the truth, I think Britta Grym was behind it.” Malin hesitated. “There’s something else. Hodag told us she knows where the ring is. It’s with Ivar and Britta. It’s here in the forest.”

My eyes shadowed; my blood cooled. “Then our next move is set.” I kissed her forehead. “You should rest. Soon, we will have marks to meet.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

THE MEMORY THIEF

Tova’s fears seemed unwarranted.Eryka spent time with Sofia, but she never seemed to stray too far from Gunnar.

Chatter went on about a few tricks of the Southern fae as we made camp. Talk centered around Bracken’s role in the court, and his sister betrothed to Niall. Princess Signe seemed like a pawn without much magic. An unfortunate player forced onto the wrong side of the game table. Frey, his brother Axel, and a few of the Northern Warriors took a great interest in Sofia and her gifts of lust and seduction.

A few tried to touch her, even insinuated they were in love with her, and wanted to take her to their beds. Most seemed to speak without a bridle on their tongues.

“Let the woman sleep. Hells, are you bleeding animals?” Herja grumbled, swatting her warriors away.

“Forgive me,” Sofia whispered; her eyes fluttered with exhaustion. “When I am injured, my control weakens, so bursts of glamour seep out. It always affects those whose hearts are not taken the most.”

“You need no forgiveness,” Herja said, hands on her hips as she glared at the men. “They ought to do better than be mindless bastards, dreaming of bedding you when you are hardly able to stand. Gods, your mothers would be ashamed of you.”

Frey and his brother looked properly chastised and scurried far away from the huldra. The others muttered apologies but looked more petulant about the distance.

In the end, Niklas and Halvar opted to protect Sofia until she strengthened and could rein in her glamour again. Their hearts belonged to others and the power of lust seemed to die on them.

We quickly arranged sleeping areas, or those who had the will, beneath draped furs in makeshift tents. Valen had arranged for guards to watch a bend in the river, giving us a place to wash.

I tilted my head, watching as the sea fae spun droplets of water around his fingers, lost in thought.

“You named yourself a king, but do you have another name we should know you by?” I asked, braiding my damp hair over my shoulder.

He lifted his eyes. His beard had been tamed and his skin scrubbed, yet he still gave me pause. I could not give a reason for my aversion to the man, but he was dangerous. It would be unwise to think he stood by us for any other reason than to retrieve his missing heir.

If the story was even true.

Half his mouth twisted in a grin, revealing one fang. “Thorvald. Thorvald of the Ever.”

“You said that before, the Ever?”

“My kingdom.” Thorvald turned his gaze back to the water, spinning his fingers until a cyclone formed. “Our lore tells us the sea is everlasting. Waters shaped the land in the beginning, and in the end, it will be the seas that swallow the land.”

Pretentious. A little arrogant. Then again, most kings likely believed their land was the truest, greatest, and most beloved by the gods.

“Well, I hope you will soon see your kingdom again.”

Thorvald scoffed, focused on the river, and I took it as my chance to give my leave of him. I hurried through the camp. Hob and Inge were already tucked beneath a thick fur, sleeping. Those from House Vill had been dragged from the caves and shipped to Skítkast two nights before. Only Oskar remained. He offered me a strained look through the fire as I strode past.

Deeper into the camp, I marked the spots where Lynx, Tova, and Raum slept. Isak leaned against a tree nearby, looking to the sky.

“All right, Isak?”

He gave me a half-hearted grin. “This is the l-l-longest I’ve been p-p-parted from Fiske since we were b-b-boys.”

“Soon,” I whispered. “This will end soon and there won’t be any reason to be parted again.”

Isak looked back to the sky. “I hope you’re right.”

I couldn’t believe otherwise. The thought of merely surviving for months or turns as we tried to take the Black Palace bent my spine in the weight of war.

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