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Chapter32
The Phantom
We didn’t havemuch time. The whole of a damn sea kingdom was at our gates. Davorin had returned. How long had he been close to us? I should’ve known. I should’ve been sharper. Once, I’d been skilled at sensing danger.
I hadn’t even considered Olaf was not who we thought.
Now, the captain was dead and the battle lord was ready to claim his bleeding throne.
“What do you think he offered the sea folk?” The man, Niklas, asked at my back.
He’d told me I could choose silence as we descended into the catacombs, but in truth he’d asked a great many questions. Most had not seemed necessary for an answer, an occasional comment on the eeriness of the bones jutting from the walls, but this one was direct.
“What do you mean?” My reply was sharper than intended. This was why I kept quiet.
Niklas seemed unbothered. “I mean, how did Davorin entice an entire kingdom to fight his war?”
“They must get something in return.”
Niklas clicked his tongue, as though considering it. “You heard them shout about Valen when he cracked the road.” All at once, he snapped his fingers. “That must be it. They called him out by his power, like it was a mark. You know, they threatened to return to take Valen. Perhaps they’ve been promised him in return for their service to Davorin.”
“The Night Folk king is not a man one can easily take.”
Niklas chuckled darkly. “I know. It makes it almost entertaining, a little humorous. I want to say, I’d like to see them try, but honestly—I don’t. I want them to all disappear and leave us in bleeding peace. I was quite happy, you know, almost lazy. These last ten turns have been the first I can remember living without the constant threat of enemies. I mean, we all knew Davorin was still out there, but we had peace. Now . . .” His words trailed off.
I paused at the bottom of the staircase in front of an arched door. “Now?”
Niklas’s bright eyes were burdened when he lifted his gaze. “Now, I’ve lost two fiercely good friends. I’ve watched another boy become an orphan.”
Heat gathered in my chest. The familiar tug of seidr. Calista strengthened my gift, and I could not truly twist fate without her, but there were always nudges. Weaker versions others would call their gut feelings, but for workers of fate, it was always the voice of a new path.
Something about what he had said, brightened my own power.
“You should take in the boy,” I said without thinking. To think would be wise. I was not a fool and knew my words could be brisk and strange. Perhaps it was rude to say such a thing.
I didn’t know much of anything about the Falkyn, only that he’d been critical in restoring the Golden King.
Niklas lifted a brow. “Why would you say that?”
“Never mind.” I opened the door.
“No, why did you say that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hmm. I don’t need my wife to be here to know you’re lying.”
Irritation rolled up my throat. “I don’t know why I spoke; it was just a thought.”
Niklas was pensive by the door. “It is a possible thought. One I think I will consider once all this is over.”
“You know this boy?”
“Of course, I do. As I said, his mother and father were dear friends.”
I shrugged, done speaking.
Apparently, the Falkyn, was not. Niklas rubbed his chin, bemused. “I don’t know why those words are . . . settling so deeply. It’s almost strange.”
