Page 9 of Tree of Ash (The Runic Saga #2)

“I know.” And she did know; her parents had said it often enough.

The Norn had come to Queen Stjarna, warning that her child would be responsible for righting the chaos and bringing back peace, but death would follow.

Believing this death to be Lovisa’s, Stjarna had pretended to lose her child in birth, sending Lovisa from the palace as an infant.

Only later was Lovisa brought back to the castle as a ward of the royalty.

In private, she’d been embraced by her parents; in public, there was a necessary distance.

The threat of the prophecy forever shadowed Lovisa’s steps.

“I had Faeir and Móeir,” Larissa continued, “but even then, our relationships could only exist behind closed doors. You, Darien, Aeron, you all lived . Your people knew you. The times we spent together were just moments of your life, but for me, those moments were my life. Larissa might have been built on a lie, but I was more honest as Larissa than I ever was as Lovisa. Even Torsten said he could never imagine Lovisa fighting a draugr, and he wasn’t wrong.

I did that because of who Larissa made me. ”

Anara pulled a pin from her mouth. “Maybe that’s why you connected with Halla so immediately. You understood what it was like to live your life in the shadows.”

Larissa shook her head. “I connected with her because she’s my sister, and I love her. Call it insanity or the will of the Norn, but I believe she was always meant to be my sister.”

“My Amma used to say the strings of the Norn connect us long before we’re born, and we feel the pull of those strings in life.”

All Larissa felt was the pit of despair gnawing away at her intestines, as it had ever since she’d woken up. “We have to get Halla back. How long was I asleep?”

Anara’s movements paused. “Nearly a week.”

Larissa’s hands tingled, galdr crackling across her fingertips. The energy in the room took on a static cling in the air. “A week ?”

Larissa rose to her feet, spurred on by the adrenaline in her body, but where could she go?

She was hidden under the Nordryggen Mountains, and it would take an army to break into Perle and find Halla.

What had they done to her? Was she still even in Perle?

Her throat constricted, and the back of her eyes burned.

Larissa hardly registered Anara’s hands on her shoulders, shoving her back onto the seat.

“Breathe,” Anara snapped. “If you pass out, that won’t help Halla.

You exhausted your galdr and broke through some mystical block in your mind.

You’re lucky you weren’t asleep longer. We’re going to get Halla back.

I promise, even if I have to storm Perle on my own.

But I can’t help you if you bring down the mountain on us. ”

Anara stared pointedly at the soft glow emitting from Larissa’s hands.

Though she felt her galdr building within her, it seemed trapped under her skin.

Larissa inhaled, flexing her fingers until the glow vanished.

“It’s good to know there’ll be another set of hands to tear down the wall if it comes to that. ”

“You could always count on Darien’s hands to join in as well.”

Larissa blushed, looking away from Anara’s smiling face in the vanity mirror. His name fluttered around in her heart like a half-remembered dream of sunshine and a soft ocean breeze.

Anara pulled white strands of hair through her long, thin fingers. “Torsten won’t like it in public, but, in private, be Larissa. Maybe that’s who the prophecy was about anyway. After all, the Norn made their prophecy with the knowledge of who you would become.”

Larissa had never thought of it that way. “Just because I’m Larissa doesn’t mean that I don’t love you just as much as Lovisa did.”

Mischief colored Anara’s tone. “I’m sure Darien would like to hear the same.”

Hope flooded Larissa’s heart and burned through her veins.

Just the thought of Darien’s smile was enough to set her world on fire.

He hadn’t given up on her, even when he had remembered their past and she had not.

He’d waited, giving her the space she needed.

Larissa wished then that Anara’s fingers would finish their work quickly.

As if reading her thoughts, Anara smirked, pulling the hair away from Larissa’s face, revealing her high cheekbones—more prominent from her recent lack of food.

In her own face, Larissa saw her Móeir. She had Queen Stjarna’s long white hair and the graceful slope to her nose, but her golden eyes were that of her Faeir.

Larissa’s joy at seeing Darien fizzled at the sorrow of thinking of her parents.

If she’d expected the return of her memories to solve all her problems, she couldn’t have been more wrong.

The past was weighed down with both glory and despair, leaving Larissa with a type of double vision resulting in a constant headache.

A headache that was not improved by Anara jabbing in pearl studded hair pins to finish the style.

It would have been a darling effect if not for how it revealed the thick pale scar that marred her right cheek.

“There’s nothing wrong with being scarred,” Anara said, her sharp eyes as perceptive as ever. “It shows the warrior you’ve become. You’ll find that most of your people are scarred from Shiko’s reign. Your scar will connect you to them in a way your words never could.”

Larissa resisted the urge to touch the raised skin.

Anara was right; she would display it with pride.

She rose from the bench, her strands of loose hair tickling the bare skin on her neck and shoulders.

Anara reached down for the finishing touch.

The necklace was made of three strands, each longer than the previous and dripping with pearls.

The shortest strand hugged tightly against her throat while the longest hung low, settling right above her navel.

Anara eyed the strings. “Do you think Torsten left any pearls untouched in all of the Vienám?”

But Larissa touched the necklace with hesitant fingers, revering the cool pearls that kissed her skin.

“It was my mother’s. My father gave it to her as a wedding gift.

He said there were so many pearls to remind my mother of all the reasons why he loved her, but even then, he still couldn’t fit enough. ”

“They were wonderful people, Larissa, and they would be proud of you tonight.”

She nodded, her throat abruptly too tight and dry to allow her to respond.

Anara squeezed her shoulders. “Time to go fulfill a prophecy, no pressure.” Larissa’s stilted laugh caught Anara’s attention. Her body tensed. “You did remember your mother’s prophecy when your memories came back, didn’t you?”

Larissa bit her lip. “She never told me the full prophecy.”

“What?” Shock chased concern across Anara’s face. “You don’t know the prophecy?”

“She wasn’t exactly forthcoming about it,” Larissa said in defense. “She was doing everything she could to ignore it, not teach me about it!”

“Then there’s no one alive who can tell us what it was?”

Larissa shrugged, but Vereandi’s sweet voice called to her from a dream she couldn’t remember.

A knock resounded at the door. Anara leaned in close and hissed, “Whatever you do, don’t tell Torsten you don’t know the full prophecy. The council members will not be happy about this.”

“What? Why?”

“Loki’s knot.” Anara pinched her nose. “We’re about to start a war based on the hope that you can fulfill a prophecy you were never told.”

The severity of Anara’s words robbed Larissa’s response as did the second knock at the door.

“Come in,” Anara said in a louder voice.

At Anara’s call, the knocker entered. “Ah, good, you are ready.”

Halvor stood in the opened door frame. When Larissa had first met him, masquerading as a physician within the walls of Perle, his clothes had been threadbare.

They were replaced now with his own finery and the emblem of the Safír Kingdom etched onto his shoulder noting his position as advisor to the king.

His half-moon glasses no longer perched at the edge of his nose, but were pushed up just below his hazel eyes.

Though he smiled warmly, his presence washed over Larissa like a bucket of ice.

Here was the physical reminder of what was coming, of the deal she’d made to reclaim Halla.

Halvor gestured to two floor-length jackets with large hoods laid across his arm. “King Torsten awaits but requests that you wear these to avoid any curious eyes along the way.”

Anara growled, “And ruin the work I just did on Larissa’s hair? I don’t think so.”

Halvor inclined his head toward her. “It’s your choice, princess, I’m only sharing what King Torsten expects.”

Larissa yanked one of the jackets off his arm. “It’s fine.”

Once properly hidden, Anara took her time arranging the hood so as to protect Larissa’s hair.

Then Halvor led them down the winding tunnel paths.

Light streamed in from the mouth of the tunnel as Larissa stepped out onto the edged pathway that lined the entire valley.

Far below, she made out the shapes of crowds of people moving through the streets all heading in the same direction.

Following their movement, Larissa’s eyes landed on the tallest building within the valley.

Multiple stories tall, it might have been considered a palace if not for its simplicity. Surely, this was their destination.

A larger crowd gathered there, waiting for her.

Larissa breathed deep; they’d waited long enough.