Thyra looks out over the Torden as she and Preben reach the top of the rocks. “A dozen boats would be nothing to the witch. Nor would fifty.”
“Sounds like our chieftain is spooked,” Aksel mutters as he falls into step next to me. He’s corralled his bird’s nest of curls with a leather thong, and though the sun and wind have chapped his cheeks, his face is drawn with grief and taut with bitterness. “I for one am eager to slit some Kupari throats.”
“Probably because you were safe at home while the rest of us were fighting for our lives on the Torden,” I hiss.
Aksel’s dark eyes become slits. “I never believed you of all warriors would shy away from a fight. I guess I should, given who you serve.” He glares at Thyra’s back.
Heat runs in rivulets down my arms, all the way to my fingertips, and I suck in a breath of cool air off the lake, fighting my rising irritation and the danger it brings. “It’s not cowardice to reassess your strategy when your enemy turns out to be vastly more powerful than you first believed.” I lean forward, clutching hard on the straps of my bundles. “Not doing so, however, seems like idiocy to me.”
“I’d rather die fighting than wringing my hands and reassessing.”
“Stop arguing like a pair of children,” snaps Thyra.
I look up to find her peering back at the two of us as we descend the rocks. “Apologies, Chieftain.”
Aksel mutters something insolent before echoing my words. Thyra stops right on the trail, forcing the rest of us to do the same. “Aksel, go see if the andeners at the rear of our line need help carrying anything. We’re nearly to noonmeal, and they’re bound to be getting tired. A strong arm will be a relief to them.”
Aksel stiffens at the dismissal, but she’s framed it in a way he cannot refuse without looking like a weak and selfish ass. “Yes, Chieftain,” he mutters.
With concern Thyra watches him go, but Preben merely gives him an amused look before returning to his conversation with her. “Will you be able to offer Nisse some information that might speed a victory over Kupari?” he asks. “This might enhance our status within his tribe.”
“I have not yet decided if we will unite our tribe with his. Remember that he’s a traitor who stooped to assassination,” she says in a voice that promises any defiance will be met with iron.
“Still, it’s our best chance of victory,” says Preben.
“And of killing the witch,” I say. My hope that her death will break the curse has been filling my head as I hike, along with the traitorous thought that perhaps uniting with Nisse will give us the strength and strategy we need to defeat the queen.
“I will consult with Nisse,” Thyra says, turning around to glance at me. “I can’t say I’d advise another invasion over the Torden, though. Over land seems wiser, but I don’t know the terrain.” She nods at Jaspar, who is several yards ahead with Sander, swapping raid stories in loud, jovial tones. “And I believe I’ll trust my own eyes over blind promises of easy victory.”
Preben grunts. “Lars would have said the same.”
I’m not sure he’s right. My heart sinks as I think of how blindly confident Lars was of easy victory . . . just before he was struck by lightning. His drive for plunder became insatiable after Nisse took Vasterut. But Preben’s compliment must feel like a win to Thyra, because she presses her advantage. “I think this is a chance to consider all the alternatives before rushing to war. We have so many to provide for—stability and safety is my priority.”
Preben frowns. “That is not something Lars would have said.”
Thyra freezes midstep, but only for a splinter of time. “He had many thoughts about our future that he did not share openly. We’ll never know what he would have said, had he made it through that battle.”
“The only way he would have made it through the battle is in victory. He wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
Thyra looks up at Preben, her chin raised in defiance at the implication—perhaps she should not have returned either. “If it had meant safeguarding the future of the Krigere, you had best believe my father would have done anything, including not carelessly squandering his own life. Think of the mercy he showed Nisse and all the warriors who followed him.”
Preben chews on the inside of his cheek. “I suppose you’re right, Chieftain,” he mutters.
“He would have hated to see us like this,” she says. “But he would have been proud to see warriors like you still loyal to the tribe, not letting greed or fear of enemies and the unknown tear us apart.” She grasps Preben’s arm. “I’m sorry about Edvin. It would not have been my choice to lose such a strong and valuable warrior like that.”
Preben gives her a long look, then bows his head. “I know, Chieftain. You did it because you had to.” He shrugs off her arm and keeps walking.