Page 91 of Dance of Kings and Thieves

Thorvald frowned and folded his arms over his thick chest. “I would add to your swords only. And my crew is minimal. Our magic does nothing on land.”

I cursed, pacing. I had tothink. My mind spun in different scenarios. Malin could rob memories of some. Maybe. Shadow walking? We could slip past the walls, but then what? How many guards were inside the ruins that we could not see?

Isak could darken the mind. Gunnar could command a few dozen guards to slit their throats.

But we would move slowly. We’d fatigue too quickly, and their forces would overwhelm us.

What would become of the warriors trapped inside and our young ones in the meantime? Who would not live through it? Likely most, if not all of us. Then what? We take Felstad, we would still need to face the Black Palace, but we would have even fewer numbers.

“Send me in,” Gunnar offered. “I’ll find where the children are, and you slink in and get them.”

“I’m not sacrificing both my children,” Hagen snarled.

“Burn them out,” said Thorvald. “I’ll do it.”

“And risk your son going up in flames?” I glared at the fae.

“I would not let that happen and would not start the flames until I had my heir in hand.”

“But my daughter,” Hagen said in more of a growl than words, “let her burn, right?”

He stalked toward the sea fae, no doubt ready to throttle the bastard.

I placed a hand on Hagen’s chest, halting him in place, then schooled my glare at Thorvald. “We don’t leave any of our folk behind. We’re going to return to the others. And we will not sleep, we will not eat until we scheme, steal, or kill our way in. We are not leaving this grove until our littles are back and safe, and everyone who laid hands on them is dead.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

THE MEMORY THIEF

Sol,Tor, and Halvar had prepared what meager rations we had in a meal, and the moment Isak and Niklas returned, they set off with Lynx and Tova to snare a few fish.

I watched Herja with a bit of caution. She’d said nothing, merely fallen into work as if she desperately wanted to keep her hands busy.

There was a large part of me that did not want to pester her, a piece of me that was too uneasy with other folk and their emotions that I figured anything I tried to say would be wrong. Kase had always been my safe place to be unashamedly me. Those turns in the hayloft, thieving for the life that was stolen from us, had not given me ample opportunity to mold into friendly society.

But if Kase were here, he’d read my expression and tell me to stop being a blubbering coward and follow the instinct to speak to the woman.

We were sisters, after all. If she, well frankly, if she did not get on with me for being me, then there was nothing I could do about it.

I only knew how to be Malin—a memory thief, a little bloodthirsty, and a woman who wanted to live a quiet life with a killer somewhere deep in the forest.

Shaking the nerves from my hands, I strode behind her and rested a palm on her shoulder. “Herja, there is nothing I can say that will ease your worry, but I want you to know I will never stop fighting to get her free of the Black Palace. I do not fight for the throne; I fight for the freedom of those I love most.”

She stopped fidgeting with the kindling and blinked at me. Herja Ferus was a warrior for her kingdom. The woman had survived horrors I did not want to know, kept her children alive, then risked her life to free them. But in this moment, her broken heart bled through her tears.

“I am trapped in a nightmare,” she whispered. “One I have tried to forget. When Hagen was not with us during our captivity, I was also separated from my children. Good behavior earned me the right to see them. I am trapped in those dark times when I was alone, fearing if my family lived or died.”

She shuddered and fought valiantly to keep her voice steady, as if speaking of her fears was a sign of weakness.

What I had learned about fear was it did not amount to weakness. Fear gave us power if we chose to use the terrors of our hearts to stir our blood, to pick up our swords, to kill for, and defend what we loved.

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “Your fear for your family is only proof of your love for them. I swear to you, they will leave this kingdom in one piece. Iswearit.”

Herja gripped the back of my top, clinging to me. “I will not leave without them.” She said it more to herself, like a declaration of what she demanded of fate. “I will not.”

“You won’t,” I said. “This is the last piece of your battle, Herja. This is where you and Hagen will win the freedom you have always wanted for your family.”

For the first time since we’d found Sigurd’s body, a smile teased the corner of her mouth.