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Felstad wasn’t what I’d callout of the wilds, but I understood the need to get behind the ruin walls all the same. There was peace there. A bit of security against the cruelty of the land.
Hob returned to the back, reiterating how they’d keep watch for the missing troll.
“Inge should not come out anymore before the little arrives,” Kase said once we were alone again. “After what happened to Dagny, it is better to keep any young ones hidden from the Black Palace.”
My stomach soured. “You think they’d—”
“It is the cruelest torture,” Kase said. “To rob a mother of her young one, leave her not knowing if they lived or died. Yes. Niall, Ivar, even the Lady Magnate would not be afraid to use littles against us.”
No doubt, those were his reasons why he often demanded Ash and Hanna stay behind. I could not help but think of Elise. Should we lose this fight, what a prize a queen’s child might be as leverage, or as torture.
I shook the thought away, taking Kase’s hand.
At the crossroads that would take us in the direction of the palace or toward the depths of Limericks and Felstad, Kase paused to give time for food and water.
“We’ll send for Junie and the others.” Kase passed me a skin of water. “Now that we have a lead on the ring, I have a feeling we’ll need everyone.”
“Agreed,” I said. It did not sit well with me to have so much distance between us and those still in Skítkast.
“We’re close, Mallie,” he whispered. “One way or another, this battle is close.”
His voice was heavy with a burden he kept to himself. Fears he did not speak aloud, as if it might make them come to pass if he did. But buried beneath the trepidation was a lilt of excitement, of power, and I clung to it.
He believed in this, he knew the risk was alive and deadly, but he believed in our plan, our steps. I took a bit of his strength and straightened my spine.
But resolve threatened to shatter when at the next step, a scream broke through the shadows.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
THE NIGHTRENDER
We sprinted through the trees.Not more than a few paces, and the forest thinned. I skidded to a stop, nearly smashing into Hagen’s back. Herja had been the one to scream. She hugged her middle as Hagen positioned himself in front of her, blade drawn.
Bard was with them. He held out his hands ready to break bone. But it was the body hanging from the tree limb that sent acid toiling in my middle.
Malin emerged from the trees a few moments after me. She collided with my body, and the desire to shield her from the truth grew tight and painful in my chest. I couldn’t shield her, though, not from this.
“No.” Malin covered her mouth with one palm. Tears sprung to her eyes, glazing the gilded green into glass. One blink spilled twin tears onto her cheeks as she stared at the man strung up by his neck, his body dangling in the trees. “Sigurd.”
The steelman was dead. His body had been beaten. Pulpy bruises littered his face. Every plane of his body revealed torture and brutality. From the way his fingers were bent at odd angles to the rune curses that had been carved into his cheeks and forehead. They’d hacked at his hair, leaving little on his scalp, and deep, cruel gashes carved up his wrists and arms.
Beside the tree where he’d been strung up, snorts and guttural wails filled the morning. Rage threaded with fear as I opened my palm, spilling shadows from my fingertips and aiming them at the bleeding troll.
Hodag shrieked and sobbed when the misty ribbons tied around her throat holding her in place as I stormed to the tree.
“You killed our man, troll.” My voice was dry as crushed stone and heady with a threat of death.
“No.” Hodag shook her head violently, whipping her own damp cheeks with her floppy ears. “No. But . . . but I did a bad thing. Bad thing, indeed.”
Closing my fist, I tightened the darkness around the creature until the path of her throat tightened and air grew scarce.
“N-No,” Hodag rasped out.
I’d snap her neck. Sigurd had my protection and I’d failed him. Horribly. I would not apologize for putting every effort into finding Malin these last days. I’d simply not expected our lack of attention elsewhere would get the man slaughtered.
“Kase.” Eryka placed a hand on my arm.
Bold of the fae. Now was not the time to speak to me in her riddles or phrases. Whether she liked Gunnar or not, I was locked in a need to kill something. To ease my own guilt, for vengeance, for the thrill of it. I cared little so long as someone died for what had been done to the steelman.
