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“Your heart is mine!” He roared, needle-like teeth showing, and rammed his crooked fingers into my hair.
I pulled back, tufts of my hair snapping from my scalp, and yanked out a knife from my boot. “No!”
“You cannot run from—” His silky voice gurgled as though he were choking on the sea.
Bleeding gods. A hooded figure had a twine rope twisted around the sea singer’s neck. His movements were swift. Precise. With a clever flick of his hands, the cloaked man twisted the sea singer’s neck in a ghastly way, a vicious crack sent a rush of sick through my gut.
But when the rotted face returned and the sea singer fell forward, the trance of his beauty and intrigue faded.
I stumbled back, heart racing. All gods, I’d nearly been a bumbling sod and . . . followed him.
My gaze bounced to the man in the hood. The side of his face where he wore his mask was strategically tucked, but those furious, burning, dark eyes were my Whisper’s. His shoulders heaved as he glared at me.
Part of me wanted to shrink away, but the clang of blades kept me rooted. We were under attack. “You came for me after I left.”
Silas narrowed the only eye I could see. “When have I ever left your side?”
I didn’t know the answer, but for the first time, more than I feared, more than I wanted to run from the games of the Norns, I wanted to know what had kept me from him.
“Do I hide you,” Silas snapped. “Or do we fight to our final tale, Little Rose?”
Cuyler and his men were slashing against the slow steps of the sea singers.
Doubtless, the return of sea folk was a first glimmer Davorin would greet our shores soon enough.
I spun the knife in my hand, narrowed gaze on Silas. “He isn’t taking any of us. Never again.”
Chapter14
The Storyteller
I stuffedmy ears with clods of mud and took a deep breath when the lure of the sea singers faded.
“We won’t win this if they keep coming,” I shouted. We needed a damn army.
“They await your call,” Silas insisted. “Tell your people what you demand of them. Do not hesitate. You have the words.”
“What are you talking about? The folk here aren’t warriors.”
Silas gripped my arms, urging me to hold his gaze. “What do youneedthem to do? If you could have the people of this land be anything what would you have them be? We have power here, Little Rose. Accept it, use it.”
If they could be anything, what would I have them be? Hells, I’d have them be an army. I’d have them protect these damn shores so those monsters in the tides couldn’t leave their ghastly ships.
What would I have the folk of the Row do? This was mad. They were drunkards and simple folk, but I whirled around and raised the short blade overhead.
“People of Raven Row! We are under attack, and if you wish to see another grimy sunrise, then fight to protect our shores. Fight for our land and our people.”
Olaf’s leathery face turned up in a wicked kind of grin. “Finally.”
The next moments stopped my heart.
The oddly sturdier buildings groaned and shifted even more. Chipped stains and crooked paneling peeled away, leaving behind gleaming paints and smooth stones. Walls with parapet barriers were erected around a hillfort with stone towers, wood and wattle cottages, and in the center was Hus Rose. Only it was not the same misshapen palace. A sprawling fortress of sharp, angled peaks with lancet windows, walls made of stone and sturdy beams had replaced the wooden shingles and crooked doors.
Hus Rose was large enough to fit countless folk, and wretchedly familiar. This was a palace from my earliest memories. This was the palace of House Ode.
Raven Row tore apart. Stone buildings and sod huts with smoke from indoor fires took the places of broken tenements and shacks. Along heavy stone walls hung blades and bows, axes and seax from thick beams. Shields marked with dark runes or ravens were arranged below the weapons, ready to snatch.
Soil rumbled underfoot. Roads widened. Like a different world had lived beneath our battered kingdom, debauched buildings melted away and Raven Row was transformed into something beautiful, something formidable.
