Page 9 of Dance of Kings and Thieves

What we had left was a massive, magical wall, and a shore filled with tents, supplies, and weary warriors.

I planned to take the moment as a win. Ivar wouldn’t have anticipated the king and queen of the North to come to the aid of thieves.

But our current trouble was finding shelter for everyone. Frosty air chilled the mornings and darkened the nights. The warriors would need heat and furs and food. The Falkyn Nest was impressive in its length beneath the streets, but it was not large enough to house an entire army tacked onto two guilds.

I wiped sweat off my brow as I finished tugging a musty canvas over the final pole of one of the tents. The army would take refuge throughout the streets we’d trapped behind the wall and along the shoreline.

“Archers are in place, which is key, after all. We’d hate for those bulky bastards to climb over the wall now, wouldn’t we?” Ari’s playful tone came from behind me.

The ambassador, hands on his hips, stared at the line of Falkyns and Northern warriors lining the tops of the rocky barrier.

We watched as Gunnar directed them. I scoffed, shaking my head, and tied off the canvas. Fight it all he liked; Gunnar Strom was a bleeding prince disguised as a thief.

“Still hard to believe we’re here, in another battle,” Ari sighed, almost wistfully. “Such good memories of spilling blood together. How could we pass up the opportunity to do so again?”

“Do you ever tire of your voice?”

“Never. It is a sweet melody the gods have blessed folk with.” His smile faded slowly. “Unpleasant as you are, Nightrender, I have never been gripped by such emotion as I was at our last meet. Never betray us, for I was deeply cut at the thought. Then, of course, when I learned the truth of your predicament, I was even more discomposed. I’m afraid it means one thing—I’m fond of you.”

“Then I have done something wrong along the way.”

Ari tracked Gunnar at the top of the wall. Eryka stayed by his side. Her silvery hair glimmered like the stars on the black sea. She was an odd woman, but seemed taken with my Kryv, and he seemed keen to keep her close.

“I am pleased to see the fae princess is unharmed,” Ari said.

“She is . . . interesting.” I folded my arms over my chest. “She told Malin she saw her power if Mal chose to rise as queen. Does the fae truly see the future?”

“I only knew Eryka a short while before she sailed to the Eastern seas, but she has a good soul. Like most Southern fae, she does not lie, nor mince words. If Eryka said it, then she saw it. Of course, the future is ever changing, is it not? I would not take any prophecy to mean we face an easy road.”

I saw no road that would be simple. To leave would keep us looking over our shoulders. To stay meant war.

“Where are Eryka’s folk?” I asked, desperate to think of anything but the risks Malin would face as the heir to the ring. “As I’m told, the fae prince came only to search out his cousin, but he hasn’t responded to her missives.”

Ari sighed. “Nor mine. I admit, I’m becoming unsettled yet again. It is a horrid look on me, but I’ve found when I care for folk, they unsettle me. I thought Prince Bracken would come straightaway.”

“What do you make of it?”

“The prince was at odds regarding how to handle the East with the High Queen from the Court of Hearts, the overseeing court in the South. I hope it is simply busy court politics that has delayed him.”

“His own mother would harm him?” I asked skeptically.

Ari chuckled. “The Southern fae are known to be crafty, and I suppose the reputation is where the rumors of magic folk being tricksters originated. They play their games of power and there are no lengths they are afraid to go to reach them. For all I know his mother has Bracken strung up by his ankles in a dungeon.”

Hells, the fae to the South sounded horrible. “Eryka, does not fit such a description.”

“No. The competitive nature is most ferocious in the Court of Hearts. Eryka is from the Court of Stars. The seers and visionaries. Gentle folk, but arrogant and vain. She, of course, is an anomaly and genuinely kind.”

I finished tying off the corner of the canvas, wiping my hands of the bits of twine stuck to my sweaty fingers. “She has taken a liking to Gunnar.”

Ari’s mouth curved, adding a dimple to one cheek. “It would seem she has.”

The sun crested over the Howl, casting the new camp in an eerie, misty light. We worked our way along the edge of the wall until I caught sight of Malin. She was huddled around Bard, Niklas, and Junius. Next to them were Valen, Elise, Sol, Halvar, and Tor.

A quarter of the inner city and shoreline of Skítkast was entirely encased in rocky walls. Valen finished shaping a small knoll to reinforce a thin part of the wall, then wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, taking in the work he’d done. “Crude, perhaps, but walls much the same kept us safe during our fight.”

I did recall the North’s ragged refuge. Hard to believe now we had our own.

I slipped beside Malin, startling her when my arm wrapped around her waist.