“You chose me. Of all the warriors in training under that roof, you came for me. Not Sander. Not Aksel or Tue. And not Thyra.”
“I don’t even remember who else was there.” Just blurred faces with bright eyes, surrounding me, closing me in. A test of my courage, but I didn’t feel brave. I felt desperate. I had been alone and scared for so long that I didn’t realize things had changed at first.
He touches the sheath strapped to my forearm. “Dismiss it if you want. I never will. I may have been a mere boy with barely eleven years under my belt, but I knew it was important even then. And we have had other moments since—you can’t deny it.”
My skin flashes hot when I see the passion in his eyes, the same heat I felt the moment before he drew his blade across my skin and marked me forever. “We don’t know each other, Jaspar. Not anymore.”
“I know you love Thyra. That, at least, hasn’t changed.” He gives me a sad smile. “It doesn’t stop me from craving your happiness and your victory.”
“I’ll be happy when I know our tribe is not in danger of extermination.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Why would we have gone to the trouble of bringing all of you on this journey if we intended to slaughter everyone? Please. I had enough warriors with me to raid the camp. But we are tribe, Ansa, whether you sense it or not.”
“Tribe,” I whisper. His words are a balm, soothing my fear.
“My father needs you. All of you.” He leans forward, placing his palm on the tree behind me, bowing his head over mine. “And perhaps especially you.”
My blood slides cold through my veins as the fear returns. “What?”
He points to the bandaged wound on my neck, and the other on my forearm. “Something tells me Aksel didn’t walk away from our camp.” I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up a finger. “As far as I’m concerned, you have done your tribe a service. Thyra would do well to be grateful instead of treating you as she has.”
I don’t know whether she would want me to admit to the killing or to keep up the pretense. We’ve walked far enough so that it’s likely no one would volunteer to retrieve Aksel’s charred body, but I can’t be sure. “Whether I killed Aksel or didn’t, he’s gone, and his mother grieves. I wouldn’t say that’s a service to our tribe.”
Jaspar grabs my arm, pressing his thumb over my kill marks. “Shall I give you another scar, Ansa?” he asks, his voice low and rough. “Since it seems Thyra didn’t offer. It certainly appears that you’ve earned it.”
My breath rasps from me, harsh and frigid. “No need.” I pull myself out of his grip.
Jaspar gives me a shrewd look. “Sander has come to me with a very interesting theory about Aksel’s departure. Would you like to hear it?”
I duck under Jaspar’s arm as frost creeps down my neck and blooms across my back. Behind me, Jaspar shudders. But if I run from him now, it’s as good as admitting guilt. “Sander’s been jealous of me ever since I took his ear for a trophy,” I say as breezily as I can manage. I peer up at the sun through a break in the trees, welcoming its warmth, and feel it stroke my cheek only a second later.
I turn to see Jaspar watching me. “Sander is a good warrior, Ansa. He hates the idea of defeat, and you gave him one of his most memorable. But I think, in a way—and though he would never tell you this—he’s grateful for it. You taught him an important lesson that day. Never turn your back on an enemy who isn’t well and surely dead.”
I scoff. “So he’s telling you lies about me out of gratitude? Of course. Why didn’t I guess?”
“Ah. You’re denying even though you don’t yet know what he said. Interesting.”
I start to walk back toward our horse. “If this is why you brought me here, we’d best get back. I’m not clever enough to play your game.”
He catches my arm as I pass. “He said the witch queen did something to you, and that you’re trying to hide it,” he says, holding tight as I try to jerk my arm away. When I reach for my knife with my other hand, he grabs my wrist. “Hear me out! Please!” he says as I take a step back to slam my knee into his groin.
“I’m not hiding anything,” I say, my voice barely more than a growl.
“Remember what I said about your prowess at deception?”
I stop struggling as the ice creeps up over my shoulders, as it starts to reach for Jaspar. My nostrils flare as I draw a deep breath. Concealing Aksel’s death was one thing, but if I kill Jaspar, our entire tribe will be slaughtered to pay for the affront. “Fine,” I tell him. “Let me go, and I’ll talk about it.”
He releases my arms but stays close. “That’s all I wanted.”
“When we made it back to shore after the witch-made storm, I began to have dreams. Terrible dreams.”
Jaspar stares down at me. “And?”
“And—that’s it.”
“Sander said you were struck by lightning on the Torden and survived.”
“It’s a miracle any of us survived that journey home.”