The realization that I will never see it again brings on another numbing wave that fills my head from ear to ear. This is how it felt under the waves during the witch’s storm. Knowing I was going to die, and only wondering how and when. It crosses my mind to simply decide and do it myself, but there is something in me now, hard and unmovable, that crushes that thought as soon as it forms. Maybe that’s the curse being willful. Or maybe it’s the tiniest spark of hope—Thyra didn’t banish me, and it was well within her power to do so. Perhaps, if I’m strong enough, I can find my way back to her.
That’s the thought that lifts one foot and places it in front of the other, that draws air into my lungs, lifts my chin, and points my gaze to the west. Somewhere out there is the Kupari peninsula, the home of the one who tried to strike us down. My heart roars at the thought of delivering her filthy witchcraft right back to her threshold.
Someone pokes my shoulder. “Obviously you’re very busy daydreaming at the moment, but I was wondering if you wanted to ride out and see if we can’t hunt up something for noonmeal. Several flocks of wild turkeys call the woods home.”
I blink at Jaspar, who has dropped back into step with me. “Me? Why?”
He glances up at Thyra, who does not turn around and acknowledge us. “Well,” he says quietly, “I get a bit bored when I hunt alone, and I do remember you are a keen shot with a bow.”
“I haven’t hunted in a while.” I was focused on gaining my prizes and food through the plunder of two-legged prey.
Jaspar holds out a fine bow of black ash with a string of hemp. It’s not very big—clearly made for small-game hunting and not for battle, which is good because that’s the only kind I’m strong enough to shoot. “Will this do?”
I touch the taut string. “Maybe.”
Jaspar gestures up to his horse, which has been freed of the load of rations it had carried at the beginning of our journey. He leans down to whisper in my ear. “Let’s get out of here, just for a little while. It’s our last chance before we reach the city, and I’m feeling lucky today.”
I soak up the friendliness in his tone like a sunflower thirsty for water and follow him to his mount. I get on behind him, wrapping my arms around his lean waist. He might not be a bulky, muscular warrior, but he is solid and sure, and I hold on tight. He chuckles. “Either you don’t trust my horse, or you’ve missed me.”
I need it too much to let go. “I’ll let you figure out which.”
Thyra’s request to get closer to him echoes in my memory, and I glance over my shoulder at her. As she so often does, she looks up as if she feels my gaze. But her eyes are solemn as she turns away to say something to Sander.
I fight the ache in my chest with hope—perhaps following her order to become Jaspar’s confidante will help me regain her trust. “Are you eager to be back within city walls?” I ask as Jaspar gently kicks his horse’s flanks and turns its nose toward a wood about a mile to the south.
“Yes and no. I had missed sleeping under stars, but it’s hard to beat a stone hearth and fresh bread. You’ll see when we get there.”
“Will there be enough shelters for all of us?”
He shakes his head. “For tonight, the andeners and many of the warriors will camp outside the city. My father has been preparing for their arrival, so there will be food and blankets aplenty. I’ve already discussed it with Thyra. She and her most senior warriors will be welcomed into the castle. I hope you’ll find it to your liking.”
I’m not sure she’ll count me among that group, but I don’t admit that to Jaspar. Instead, I close my eyes as his wood-smoke-scented blond hair brushes at my face, blown by the chilly breeze. I don’t know if I’m causing it or not.
Jaspar steers his mount to the edge of the trees. He loops its reins around a branch, and then we’re striding into the damp and cool of the forest, spongy needles beneath our boot soles and the sharp smell of pine sap in the air. We’ve just reached a clearing split down the middle by a burbling stream when Jaspar says, “You wear your unhappiness like a veil today, Ansa. I can barely see anything else when I look at you.”
“Nonsense. I’m just thinking about what lies ahead.”
“You’re a terrible liar. You always have been.”
I scrub my hand over my face. “What do you want, Jaspar?”
“How has she rewarded your loyalty, Ansa? I want to know. A few days ago I could have guessed, but this morning . . .”
“Since when is this your concern?”
He turns around, his green eyes reflecting the colors of the pines. Muted and deep. “Whether you wanted me or not, you’ve always been my concern, ever since you were brought to our camp by one of my father’s warriors. His andener didn’t want you as a slave because you were too fierce, almost feral. But Lars and my father recognized that you had a warrior’s spirit. That was when they gave you to Einar and Jes to raise. That was when you became Krigere.”
I touch my short hair as I remember Jes drawing his knife and cutting my matted, filthy locks from my head. “The first time they put a weapon in my hand, I couldn’t wait to use it.”
His grin says he remembers the moment. “I wouldn’t be alive if that cursed dagger hadn’t been completely dull. But I think that was the instant that linked us forever.”
“I tried to kill you!”