Page 15

Andor

I had hoped that when we arrived at Stormglen, my uncle would not be the one to greet us. Though “greeting” usually conveys niceties. There are no such things with my Uncle Kjell, especially when he’s had a few drinks.

“Uncle,” I say, pasting a smile on my face. I do it more to piss him off since he always says I’m grinning like a fool. “This is Brynla Aihr,” I tell him. “And her dog, Lemi.”

It’s only now that my gawking uncle pulls his eyes off Brynla and notices the giant black hound sitting patiently beside her. His grimace deepens and he looks to me.

“Am I supposed to know who the fuck Brynla Aihr is?” he grumbles. “Other than the fact that she’s a foreigner. A purple-haired one at that. Sunburnt skin. Fucking hell, she’s a bloody Eslander, isn’t she?”

I expect Brynla to bite back but she remains silent, though I can feel the negative energy roiling up inside her.

“She’s an Eslander,” I say. “One of the Freelanders. From the Banished Land. And she is now a prisoner of Stormglen.”

Brynla flinches and looks at me as if I’ve betrayed her. Perhaps the word prisoner was a bit too harsh, even if it’s technically true.

“A prisoner?” Uncle Kjell takes a step forward to her, looking her over again. “She’s not bound.”

“We have an agreement,” I tell him.

“An agreement, eh?” he says, narrowing his eyes at me. “And does your father know about this?”

I square my shoulders, breathing out sharply through my nose so I can focus and stay calm. “No.”

“No?” Brynla says, pivoting to face me, her dark eyes blazing. “You mean they don’t know about your plan?”

I give her a stiff smile, mentally willing her to keep quiet. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned it in passing to my father before. He’ll think it’s a good idea.”

“Is that so?” Kjell says. “Taking an Eslander prisoner. A Freelander at that. Knowing you and your schemes, it’s about as useless and harebrained as the last one. Tell me, nephew, what is this agreement you have?”

“Nothing I’m willing to discuss with you,” I say to him, and grab Brynla’s arm, pulling her around him and through the doors into the courtyard, Lemi staying close to her heels. “The goods are in the carriage,” I call to him over my shoulder.

“You kidnapped me for nothing,” Brynla seethes under her breath as I lead her between the fountains in the middle of the yard and Solla’s rose garden.

“What little faith you have in me,” I tell her with a grin.

“I have zero faith in you,” she says.

My smile shakes slightly.

“I’ll just have to prove you wrong,” I say.

Just like I have to prove everyone wrong, all the time.

It’s fucking exhausting.

We enter the main doors and step inside the hall, the smells of dinner cooking coming from the kitchen. I spot my sister, Solla, heading toward the great chamber, a book in her hand.

“Solla,” I whisper to her, hurrying Brynla along the obsidian floors, Lemi’s nails clicking on the surface as he trots behind us.

Solla stops and stares at us, blue eyes bright and wide.

“You’re back early,” she says in her quiet voice, clutching her book tighter to her chest. “Who is this?” she asks, trying to sound polite, but I can see she can’t make heads or tails of Brynla and Lemi.

I’ve certainly never brought a girl home—I’d never subject a woman to this place—and most definitely not a hound.

“A prisoner,” Brynla says dryly as I loosen my grip on her arm.

“Is the dog prisoner too?” Solla asks, brushing her bangs out of her eyes with her free hand.

“Yes,” I tell her. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor.”

Even under her hair I can see her thick brows knit together. “What?” she asks, ever hesitant.

“Can you take Brynla to her quarters? Put her in the yellow room. The dog can go with her too.”

“Oh, she has a name?” Solla asks.

I wince. “I’m sorry, I forgot my manners.”

“When don’t you?” Solla mutters under her breath.

“ Solla ,” I say, “this is Brynla and her hound, Lemi. Brynla, this is my one and only sister, Solla. She’s the sweet one in the family, don’t worry.”

“And you want the sweet Kolbeck in charge of the prisoner?” Brynla asks, raising a brow at me.

“I can bite if I need to,” Solla says, completely deadpan. I’m not worried about my sister. Even if Brynla tries something, she won’t get far. Kjell will have put the guards on high alert already. Besides, Solla knows how to take care of herself when she needs to. Her gifts are impressive.

“You certainly can,” I say. Then I sniff the air because I know it will get a rise out of Brynla. “And draw her a bath and fetch her some new clothes. She needs it.”

Brynla glares at me but then self-consciously sniffs her shoulder. Honestly we all smell the same after being on the ship, just an overall sense of fish, brine, and oil.

I let go of Brynla’s arm and Solla beckons for her to follow her down the hall to the east stairs. Brynla and Lemi reluctantly trail along, with Brynla glancing at me over her shoulder with a wary look.

I give her a reassuring smile that I’m sure she doesn’t find reassuring at all, considering how the scowl on her face deepens, and then I quickly duck down the wing to my father’s study and knock on the door.

“Come in.” I hear his gruff voice through the door.

I open it and step inside.

My father is sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair with one leg crossed, holding a glass of amber liquid.

From the way the leather chair across from him has been pushed back and the telltale ring of condensation on his walnut desk, I know Kjell must have been with him right before he came out to the yard.

“One of the guards spotted your carriage coming up the road,” my father says. “I was surprised it was you. You never come back from your voyages early. I take it you had a fruitful mission this time? Or am I just getting my hopes up?”

“Very fruitful,” I say, sitting down in the chair. “In fact, I brought back more than you bargained for.”

He gives me a tepid look, a gray brow arched. “Is that so?”

“I have suen from an elderdrage, as well as from a blooddrage,” I say, leaning back in my chair, my left foot bouncing. “And I have a thief.”

He frowns as he takes a sip from the glass. “What do you mean, you have a thief?”

“She’s upstairs. Solla has her.”

My father pauses, then slowly puts the drink down. “Andor,” he says sharply. “Stop wasting my time like you always do and come out with it. What do you mean Solla has her?”

“Look,” I say, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, needing my father to take me seriously for once. “You know I’ve been working on a way to secure our position in the egg trade.”

“You have been doing no such thing. It’s Kjell that’s been putting in the legwork.”

I try to bury my frustration. “And where has it gotten us? Nowhere. We haven’t advanced at all. The Dalgaards still control the trade.”

“They only control the south,” he counters dismissively.

“They’re moving into Vesland, you know that’s their plan. To control their trade and then take over the entire realm.”

“And you know that we have fail-safes to prevent that from happening. The same fail-safes that will prevent another war with Altus Dugrell.” He narrows his eyes. “Or have you forgotten your duties?”

I ignore that. “But the more suen that those Dalgaards obtain, the closer the kingdom of Sorland will get to building an invincible army,” I try to explain. “Can’t you see that’s their end goal?”

“We all know that’s their end goal,” he says, eyeing me with disdain as he takes another sip of his drink.

“But that’s a goal they are decades off from achieving.

You know what Sae Balek has shown me. I have seen the future.

I know what the goddesses have planned for us.

We continue what we’re doing, which is working for the king while keeping our own interests.

You, Vidar, Steiner, Solla—you’ll all do what you must to keep our fingers in every pie possible. The rest will fall into place.”

“You’re not being proactive enough.”

My father slams down the glass, hard enough that it nearly breaks.

“Not proactive enough?” he bellows. “I’m sorry we can’t all be as reckless, impulsive, and foolish as you, Andor Kolbeck.

What has your so-called proactiveness gotten us over the years?

” He gets to his feet and my heart starts to beat wildly.

“Let’s see.” He ticks off a finger with dramatic flair as he comes around the desk.

“You stole my ship on a last-minute journey to the White Islands…”

“Borrowed, actually. I was going to bring it right back.”

“Because you had heard that the volcano was going to blow.”

“Actually that was Steiner’s idea,” I cut in.

“And it did erupt and it sank my ship. You were lucky to get out of there alive. I still owe those pirates for saving you. There isn’t a damn day I don’t regret it.”

“Technically those pirates are employed by me now.”

He ticks off another finger. “Then you had the idea to go into the center of the Midlands in an attempt to find a mythical fucking dragon that doesn’t exist anymore. You lost two good men to that pointless endeavor, may they rest in peace.”

I do feel guilt over that. A lot of guilt.

But I want to point out that my father is the one who assigned those men to come with me, and they weren’t exactly reliable.

It was their attempt to screw me over mid-raid of a deathdrage’s nest that got them chomped in half to begin with, but of course my father refuses to believe me when I tell him what really happened there.

“And then,” he goes on, louder now, and I know what’s coming, “the day you were supposed to be married off to Princess Odelle, they caught you in bed in with her handmaiden! Do you know how badly you damaged the bond between our houses? That it’s a miracle that Anahera is even willing to talk about marrying Princess Liva to our Vidar? ”