Page 117 of Dance of Kings and Thieves

Sol stared wide-eyed at the infant in his consort’s arms.

Eryka sniffled and stepped to Tor’s side. “Luck and omens are still a firm belief among the deep wood folk of the South.” She let out a sigh. “This boy must’ve been born recently. To be born during bloodshed, well, it would be easy for them to believe he came with bad omens. They left him as an offering to the gods.”

“Like the hells they did,” Tor snapped. “I’m not leaving him out here.”

Eryka eyes flashed in a white shine. “Of course you won’t. Who will call you Daj if you do?”

At that Tor fumbled. His dirty fingernails dug into the linen cloth of the infant. Gunnar scoffed, but smiled, tugging Eryka against his side once her eyes cleared.

The bleeding woman still didn’t realize half the things she said out loud.

“Daj?” Tor lifted his gaze to Sol.

The Sun Prince was lost in his thoughts for a moment, then tugged back the linen cloth, studying the young fae’s soft features. “A new journey rises from the flames.”

He glanced back at the tower of fire from Felstad.

Tor’s mouth dropped. “Cries in the dark. Mind the hedges.”

“Gods. That’s what Calista told you both.” Malin covered her smile with her palm. “You were supposed to find him.”

“A new journey.” Sol cleared his throat, studying Tor’s face.

Tor simply took Sol’s hand, the infant in the crook of his elbow, and said, “Come then. We have things to discuss.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX

THE NIGHTRENDER

“Doyou think Queen Astrid has sinister plans, then?” Niklas asked. He tapped a knife back and forth on his knees.

“I think it was foolish of Britta not to think an ambitious queen would not be here to spread her influence.”

“But what is the end result?”

“Britta kept hinting there was dark power that would take over every kingdom and every type of magic.”

Niklas frowned. “It’s not that hard to believe one of the kingdoms would eventually want to overthrow them all.”

We’d need to keep watch on the Southern Kingdom. Out of anything, I knew they could pose future threats.

“There.” Niklas secured the linen bandage over my burn. “You’re ready. She’s waiting for you.”

The fires of Felstad had died to embers, but the smoke still rose from the ashes over the treetops when I stepped out of the tent.

Sol and Tor had gone to converse with Herja and Hagen over the abandoned fae boy. The way Herja cuddled the child now, I had no doubt the North had just found its newest prince.

Not the perfect timing to add a helpless infant to our number, but if the fae was to be the new son of the Sun Prince and Torsten, I’d defend him like he was our own.

Our folk still nursed their wounds, but any Mediskis and Elixists paid close mind to the littles we’d rescued.

Stieg had his fingers bound by Tova. He gave me a nod as I strode past. Thorvald’s son had fallen asleep on Stieg’s lap after Niklas had splinted the boy’s broken leg and smeared a mossy elixir over burns and knife wounds that would horribly scar the boy in time.

Sometimes I wondered how dark my soul could go, but I did not torture littles. The Black Palace had lost all its humanity after seeing the wounds across Thorvald’s son, across Ash’s back. Even Hanna had wounds on her belly and spine.

If Ivar and Britta were not already dead, I would hang them upside down the way Niklas had done to Eero, then welcomed anyone who wished to have a go at them with blades.

A gust of wind snapped through the trees, billowing her red hair off her neck like a bleeding cape.