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Prologue

Screams echoed off the royal bedchamber’s walls, undampened by the tapestries hung around the room. Tindra, the Queen of Croy, panted, trying to catch her breath from her latest outburst. Sweat flowed across her tawny skin, soaking the rug beneath her. Her left hand gripped King Fitzeirick’s tight enough to grind his knuckles together. The stump where her right hand had been pressed hard into his thigh.

“I can’t,” she gasped, collapsing against her husband’s chest, “keep this up.” Her firesything talent did nothing to help her. Given how little her straining now affected the candles around the room, her exhaustion was obvious.

With the labor dragging on more than a day, Fitzeirick wished his wife were a stonesyth so she could draw stamina from the floor like he could. Or if I could transfer some of my energy to her. “You’re doing fine,” he said. “Just remember to breathe.”

Bera, Tindra’s handmaid, offered her a cup of water. “Drink, m’lady. All is well.”

Tindra gulped down a mouthful as Bera wiped the queen’s brow.

“I can see the top of the baby’s head,” Abi, the royal herbalist, said, looking up from her position between the queen’s knees. “Another push should do. Bera, stand ready.”

The handmaid gave the cup to Fitzeirick, moved to Abi’s side, and grabbed a soft, knit, drying cloth.

Tindra drew a deep breath as weary muscles clenched. The grunt forcing its way through her clenched teeth rose to another scream as her body pushed. “Congratulations, my Queen, you have a daught— Oh. Oh, my.”

“What?” Fitzeirick shouted. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s another hand,” Abi said.

“My daughter has three hands?” Tindra asked, leaning forward to see.

“No, you have another babe!” Abi said. “Bera, cut the cord and clean her. My Queen, your work is not done.”

Twins! The thought brought goosebumps to Fitzeirick’s arms.

The guttural sound coming from his wife broke the king from his shock. Everything seemed to happen faster this time. Soon, he cradled his son, and Tindra held their daughter. The babies’ cries brought smiles and tears all around.

“Congratulations, your majesties. They both look healthy,” Abi said. “My Queen, they should eat soon. I’ll help you get settled while the king spreads the good news.”

Tindra nodded and leaned forward. Fitzeirick hesitated before handing his son to Bera. Once he was certain she wouldn’t drop him, he lifted his wife off the floor. Abi took their daughter and cradled her while Fitzeirick carried his wife to their bed.

After one more long look at their newborn twins nursing, Fitzeirick left to make the proclamation.

* * *

At dawn, after the first full moon of the twins fifth year, a procession led them to their roan—the test to determine what their sything talents were. Captain Agrim and Sergeants Sibbi and Svan, dressed in gleaming, tan, leather armor, led the way out of the capital’s southern gate.

Princess Meyla, wearing a simple, unbleached, linen dress, followed the men who were both guardians and playmates. Loosely braided, chestnut hair brushed the tops of her shoulders with each step, and her bright, brown eyes looked everywhere, gazing at the people lining the streets to watch them pass.

Prince Regin trailed behind his sister, wearing a short-sleeved shirt and loose pants made from the same cloth as Meyla’s dress. His hair and eyes were lighter than hers, closer in color to his mother’s. The young boy kept his eyes forward, doing his best to imitate the guards ahead of him.

Behind their children, King Fitzeirick and Queen Tindra walked hand in hand, beaming with pride. Tindra predicted her daughter would be a strong firesyth and her son would be a stonesyth like his father. Fitzeirick had noticed different tendencies in his children, but Tindra insisted he was mistaken.

Roi and Grima, the royal advisor and his wife, followed their rulers. Einns, Grima’s son, stayed in the castle, manning the kitchen—his favorite place—to prepare a special breakfast for the royal twins. Roi had escorted Fitzeirick to his own roan where it was determined he was a stonesyth.

When Fitzeirick was his children’s age, he lived in the far eastern lands of Croy with his mother, Sar’sa. She was a war trophy for Eirick, his father, from when he took those lands from Varia. Though Jarl Eirick cared about his bastard son, his duties as leader of Croy kept him in the capital that day. Fitzeirick was thrilled to be with his children today and wondered if his father ever regretted not being there for him nearly thirty years ago.

Three more guards, their armor matching those leading, brought up the rear. Onlookers bowed and shouted their greetings and support as the royal family passed.

Tradition and an abundance of caution dictated the trial be held well away from any structures, lest an exceptionally strong but untrained child damage something important. In a clearing off the road but in sight of the wall surrounding Croy’s capital, three people waited in a loose circle. Bera rested her foot on a stone ball; Botulf, the capital’s master blacksmith, stood near a small fire; Abi sat near a wooden block a few steps away.

The procession stopped at the edge of the road. Before the twins scampered ahead, Fitzeirick put his hands on their shoulders and kneeled as they turned to look at their father. Tindra stood next to him, resting her hand on his arm.

“Remember,” Fitzeirick said, looking from daughter to son, “go to each element and try to feel what’s in front of you. There’s no hurry, so don’t rush.”

“Focus, breathe, and take your time,” Tindra said.

The children nodded, turned, and scampered toward the challenges. Dew from the ankle-high grass wet the bottom of their clothes as they made their way to the clearing.

Fitzeirick stood.

Tindra took his hand.

Everyone else spread out to watch as the test began.

Regin, being about half a hand taller than his sister, reached the stone before her. As he stooped to put his hand on the orb, Meyla rested her hands on her hips and tapped her foot.

Tindra squeezed her husband’s hand as the stone opened for their son. Regin took a piece of honeybread out of the ball, turned to his parents, and smiled before biting into the treat. Fitzeirick noticed it took more effort than he expected for his son to work the stone open.

Meyla brushed her fingers on the rock and nothing happened. As her brother tried to open the wooden box, she pressed hard against the ball, but it didn’t open. She hit it with her fist as Regin abandoned the wooden box, unable to open it.

The fire bent to the boy’s will before his sister reached toward the wooden box. Tindra gasped as he pulled a strip of meat out of the flames.

Her shock turned unpleasant when the wood moved as soon as Meyla’s fingers contacted it. “My daughter cannot be a woodsyth!”

I tried to warn her, Fitzeirick thought, putting his arm across his wife’s shoulders.

Chapter 1

“Regin,” I said, “watch where you’re going.”

Ink sloshed, threatening to spill each time the wagon jostled.

“Yes, Princess,” he said, before sticking his tongue out at me.

I snorted at my brother, dipped my quill again, and returned to my journal. Fortunately, we’d had good weather for the trip—a few clouds hung in the sky, but none threatened rain, so I didn’t have to keep my book in my travel sack.

I’m nearing the end of the exhausting ride home from Varia. Still, it was nice to spend time with my grandparents at Dauphi and the eastern keep is surrounded by so many interesting plants and deep forest. But best of all was speeding across Lake Lusebel in the boat Kurt’s men built for my fifteenth birthday. Cousin Jonus and my brother would rather spend their days playing soldier or looking for other adventures, usually in the form of pursuing one of the many girls who caught Jonus’s eye.

Going by the stories I’d heard, that was a habit passed down from his father. From my understanding, Uncle Crum was quite the ladies' man before he met Aunt Jesca.

That’s not to say Jonus isn’t attractive. He got his father’s messy hair but it’s the sandy color of his mother’s. And his blue-green eyes are so bright, sometimes I think they glow. But he’s practically family so his silver tongue doesn’t work on me.

And don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the thrill of a good hunt as much as anyone; stalking prey through the trees and brush, using my talent to find where the animal has disturbed the plants. It certainly gets the blood pounding in my ears but it doesn’t compare to the feeling of being out on the water. The wind in my hair, surrounded by a peaceful expanse.

Considering I could catch a meal with a hook and line, if Uncle Crum and Aunt Jesca hadn’t insisted I spent time with them, I’d have only come ashore to cook. Not that learning new woodsything skills from Aunt Jesca wasn’t fun. To be honest, I like her more than Mother.

“I see the southern gate, sis,” my brother said, pointing.

I waved to Fargrim, the closest rider to me. He nodded, put his heels to his horse’s flank, and rode ahead to announce our arrival.

Instead of watching them, I looked back at the cart carrying my boat. It was light enough for one horse to pull, but two traveled faster, and Uncle Crum insisted on making sure we got home quickly.

It wouldn’t have bothered me to take our time traveling back through my father’s homeland. On the trip to the eastern pass into Varia, we spent a good portion of a day visiting the memorial to those who died when Satra invaded. Father raised the stone himself, putting the names Sar’sa, our grandmother, and Aesa, his first love, on the first stele. Since then, nine more blocks had been pulled to the surface. Each was marked with the names of Croians taken by the once barbaric nation on Croy’s southern border. It made the history my brother and I had learned about our nation feel real. I couldn’t help but shed tears.

The people who settled these lands after the war ended—a mix of Croian, Varian, and Satran—are hard-working and welcoming. Most who moved here worked for years repairing the damage done by Satra’s invasion.

After establishing himself as Croy’s king, my father made Satra pay for their crimes. He led the army that conquered the nation and kept it under Croian rule longer than my brother and I had been alive.

Angering Father is not a good strategy.

Capping the jar of ink, I wiped my quill on the cloth in the back of my leather-bound journal and put everything into the pack resting between my feet. Thundering hoofbeats announced approaching riders. Bolverk led the group of mounted warriors.

“Well met!” my brother and I called out together.

The men saluted when they got close. “Princess Meyla. Prince Regin. Well met and welcome home. Your parents are eager to see you.”

I bet Mother couldn’t care less if I came back. Pasting a smile on my face, I returned their salutes. “Lead the way.”

Chapter 1

The steel left a cold line as it slid across the back of my neck. Hairs on my arms stood tall. Light from several candles burning on the table beside me cast dancing shadows on the wall. Bracing my back against the chair to hold myself steady produced a quiet creak from the wood. My ears filled with the raspy sound of metal scraping metal as Tindra trimmed my hair with a small pair of shears.

“The timing of this meeting is still suspect if you ask me,” she said, resting the cool metal below my left ear. “Since my parents will be here no more than a day after you leave.”

Reaching back, I patted her leg as she continued trimming my hair. “I’m not leaving to avoid your parents. Riding out with this caravan is the perfect opportunity for me to meet with Crum after he officially promotes Lieutenant Aerison to Commander. Along the way, I can survey my old skati. I won’t let people resettle there without seeing how bad it is myself.”

She tapped her foot while trimming around my ears. As she worked, the shears grew warmer.

“I will dump you in a watering trough if you burn me.” I rubbed the upside-down T burned into my left cheek. “I don’t need another brand. What’s bothering you?” Firesyths. I swear.

“Sorry.” The metal cooled. “I worry.”

I sighed, pushed my talent into the stone floor, and spun my chair around to face her. “You have nothing to fear. There are no threats left in my old territory. Once I lead our army into Satra, I promise to stay out of the fighting.”

“Maybe our victories have come too easy. What if it’s all a trap to get you into Satra? After all, we don’t know what lies Porsey fed them.” She snipped the front of my hair short. “I think success clouds your memory. Don’t ignore the week they held our forces at bay before running back into Satra.

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good. Lather your face; I’m shaving your beard.”

I laughed. “Given the mood you’re in? There’s no way I’m letting you put a blade near my neck.”

“Fitzeirick, dear husband.” She touched her forehead to mine and kissed me on the nose. Sparks flared in her eyes. “My love, I know where you sleep. If I wanted to slit your throat, I could do it any time. Lather your face, or I’ll shave you dry.”

I pulled her into my lap and kissed her until she pushed away.

“Keep this up, and your warriors will leave without you,” she said, smiling.

I laughed and let her go. “I’m the king. They won’t leave until I give the order.”

She smiled and shook her head before pointing. “Soap. Face. Now.”

“I thought you liked me with a beard,” I said, reaching for the soap.

“I don’t mind you having a beard, but your helmet will be more comfortable without one. Plus, they can be a liability on the battlefield.”

I nodded and dipped the soap into the small bucket of water sitting on the table. It wasn’t long before the hair on my neck was loaded with frothy bubbles.

Tindra drew a short knife from her belt and rested the edge lightly against the base of my throat before pressing the stump of her right wrist against my forehead. “Don’t move. My left hand still isn’t as steady as my right was. I’d hate to cut you by accident.”

“Let me shave myself,” I protested.

“If I don’t practice, I’ll never get any better,” she argued, and quickly scraped the hair off my face, only slowing when she had to work around the brand. “Much better,” she said. “Rinse. I’ll gather your things.”

“I’m packed. The only thing left is to put on my armor,” I said, reaching for her. “Why are you trying to busy yourself? What’s bothering you?”

She sighed and took my hand. “Everything. My parents are coming—”

“Aren’t you happy to see them?”

“Of course, but you’re leaving, and I know something bad is going to happen to you. Also, you expect me and Roi to work together with the builders working on our castle. We’re getting along better, but...honestly, if I wasn’t friends with Grima, I wouldn’t be allowed in their house.”

I shook my head. “Roi’s not as bad as you think. Give him something to focus on, and you two will be fine. And stop worrying about me. I killed my half-brother and took leadership of Croy while leading only five people. Imagine what I can do to Satra with an army.”

She smiled, hugged my face to her chest, and ran her fingers through my hair. “So confident. It’s one of your better qualities.”

I hugged her back. “I know losing your hand cost you more than you want to admit, but”—I rubbed my smooth chin—“you’re adapting well.”

“Thank you for understanding,” she said, “and for your support. I’m glad you don’t treat me like I can’t do anything for myself.”

“A queen who couldn’t take care of herself wouldn’t be any good for me or our country,” I said and stood. “I need to put my armor on and get going.”

Tindra nodded. “Let’s get you dressed. After I walk you to the caravan, I’ll talk to Einns and get a list of how he wants the castle kitchen.”

“Assuming all goes well, I should be back in time to move into our new home,” I commented.

Although the steel sandwiched between the inner and outer layers of my dark-green-and-brown leather armor added a lot of weight, I had worked the thick skins enough to make the protective garment easy to put on. Having Tindra’s help wasn’t necessary, but I could tell it made her happy.

With a quiet click, my metal-and-stone battle hammer stuck to the magnets on my back. I hefted the saddlebags filled with spare clothes and supplies to clean my armor. If I learned nothing else while training with the Varian army, the importance of well-maintained armor stuck with me.

“Don’t forget your helmet,” Tindra said, picking it up from the table.

I took it from her, and she planted a long, hard kiss on my lips before letting me slide the leather-covered, steel helmet in place.

“To remind you why you need to come back home.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What makes you think I could ever forget you?”

She smiled and took my hand. “Shall we go?”

“You’re going out unarmed?” I asked.

“How would it look for the queen of Croy to walk to her friend's house with a sword on her hip?”

I shrugged. “Whatever you think is best.”

“Remember to keep using those words when you get back.” She laughed and pulled me toward the door.

Chapter 1

I picked at my breakfast, knowing I should eat but not feeling hungry. Each riot brought the possibility of civil war and the end of Croy. Thanks to Eirickson, no one knew the Satran were dug into our country like ticks on a deer...and were proving harder to remove.

Each group we cut out seems to give rise to three or four more soon after.

Agrim hurried through the courtyard. I recognized his pace easily.

“Come in!” I yelled, before he knocked.

A streak of dried blood ran down his gray beard and continued to his leathers.

“Good news?” I asked.

He bowed. “Jarl—”

“King,” I snarled. I’ve corrected him at least eight times over the past six weeks. I thrust my finger toward him. “How do you keep forgetting? Croy no longer has a jarl. I refuse to use

the title soiled by my father and half-brother. Don’t make me correct you again.”

Cringing, he lowered his eyes. “Apologies, Sire. I’m not thinking clearly. We put the last group of resistance down near sunrise. I wanted to report our success before getting some sleep.”

“You’re certain all Satran influence is gone? I’ve received similar reports before, yet here you stand, blooded again.”

After a sigh, he nodded. “It’s not just Satra causing unrest. As much as I appreciate having the Varian soldiers aid us, it looks bad.”

“What do you mean? Other than helping your company, Elias makes sure his men keep to themselves.”

He shrugged. “Varian soldiers spilling blood in our capital bothers people. Eirickson’s claim of a planned attack from the north reached many ears. A company of Varian soldiers inside the wall, camping where the Council of Thanes used to meet, makes many influential people uncomfortable. Rumor has it, some of our own warriors suspect Elias and his men are scouting for an invasion.”

I shook my head. “Varia is our ally against Satra; they are not invading. Why do so many people have difficulty believing the truth? Put out the word: I’m calling a meeting of the commanders—again.”

Someone knocked on the door.

“I’m busy.”

They knocked again, harder.

“This better be important! I yelled. “Who is it?”

“It’s Roi,” my mentor answered.

I jumped from my chair, a smile spreading across my face, and rushed to open the door. Gripping his offered hand, I pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for coming. I need someone with good sense.”

“I’m glad to see you alive. Until Albin got word to me, I had my doubts.”

“Agrim,” I barked. “Why are you still here? I told you to gather the commanders.”

“Of course, Ja—, Sire.” Judging by his pace, he kept his calm until he thought I couldn’t track him.

“We need to talk.”

Roi nodded and followed me to the table.

“Where are Grima and Einns?” I asked, taking my seat.

Dropping his backpack, he took the seat across from me. “We didn't know how safe it would be here, so they stayed in Swinter. I’ll send for them after I have a place to stay.”

“Everyone expected me to take Eirickson’s home, but I leveled it. The land will be turned into a memorial when I have time. Living in the Thanes’ compound makes it easier to keep an eye on Porsey and Boril. Not all the guards I assigned to watch them agree on the meaning of house arrest. Sooner or later, I’ll have to move them somewhere; they have too much influence here.”

“Where are the other two Thanes?”

“I killed one after killing Eirickson. Roald, the eldest, made himself useful enough to earn some amount of freedom.”

“I almost forgot. Before he left to find his brother, Albin asked me to give you this,” Roi said, pulling folded parchment from his pack. “He said you needed to know.”

“Hopefully, it’s good news,” I said, placing the pages on the table. “I’ll read it soon, but I could use some of your wisdom.”

“Ruling not as easy as you thought?” he asked, smiling.

I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. “Nearly two months of non-stop madness. Other than Elias and the rest of the caravan guard, I haven’t received any support from Varia. I still don’t know who I can trust.”

He pressed his lips together.

“Generals were openly conspiring against me. I had to face one in combat before they understood I shouldn’t be taken lightly. Not long after that, Satran-led insurgence started. Thankfully Roald kept information on them. He didn’t know all of Eirickson’s schemes, but he knew enough to help me.”

“Sounds like you trust him,” Roi said.

I nodded. “Along with Agrim and the men under him, but the majority of the people around me are suspect. It’s likely one, or both, of the other Thanes are behind the power plays I’ve faced. Trying to get the merchants and workers to support me, or even cooperate, has been its own battle.”

My shoulders drooped. “What have I done?”

He patted me on the shoulder. “What you thought was right. Change is never easy. Did you expect the people to welcome you with open arms?”

“Eirickson sacrificed my land, our people, to keep Satra from taking the whole country. How long do you think that will last? I’m saving them from—”

“From a hidden threat. I’d be willing to bet the average Croian felt like they had nothing to fear once Satra stopped at the central forest. They conquered your skati and seemed content. Eirickson becoming Jarl displeased a few, but everyone felt safe with his leadership. Now, a branded, disgraced half-Varian ex-Skald stormed his wedding with a group of Varian criminals, killed him, and declared himself King of Croy. Did you expect no one to contest your claim?”

“I’ve told everyone who would listen that Varia will help us against Satra,” I said.

“And their jarl declared Varia the enemy. He cautioned everyone to expect an attack from the north. Don’t your actions look like a Varian invasion?”

I glared at him. “I can’t take the fight to Satra if I’m still struggling to keep my country stable.”

“You know how this business works,” he said. “Build trust. Listening to you, all you’ve told me about is chaos and bloodshed. Very few people want to live in that situation, so show them that life is going back to normal.”

“I miss Crum,” I said.

“His people skills could come in handy...and I’ve rarely said that,” Roi said, with a grin. “Speaking of people with questionable ethics, how’s Tindra? Albin said she lost a hand in the fight.”

I nodded. “Haven’t visited her in almost two weeks. She’s mostly recovered physically but having a hard time dealing with the injury. I suspect how she lost it weighs on her more.”

“Do you think she meant to kill Stina?”

I shook my head. “Tindra’s loyal to her king. Someone attacked me, she reacted. I think she would’ve killed her own mother in that situation. But I have enough to think about; I’d rather not relive that moment.”

Reaching for the pages, I asked, “The message isn’t sealed. Have you read it?”

“No. I figured it was meant for the King of Croy.”

I chuckled. “I’m sure it is. Any idea where you’ll stay?”

He shrugged. “Came straight here, haven’t had time to look.”

“There’s plenty of room here until you have your own place. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Sounds better than sleeping outside,” he said. “Which room should I use?”

I waved toward the back of the building. “Mine’s straight down the hall, meeting room’s the first door on the left. You can have your pick of the others.”

He nodded, grabbed his pack, and walked to the last room on the right.

The message had two pages, one from Ander, and the other from Kurt.

Considering what Eirickson said about killing the Varian royal family, I read Ander’s first. He opened the letter congratulating me on the successful attack. The details on Eirickson’s agents were sparse. Ander's arm was broken when they struck. Ines did not fare as well. She took three knives to the chest before Crum got between her and the assassins. His quick thinking kept Jesca out of harm’s way. After disarming one attacker, he killed them and kept watch over Ines. He ignored his own injuries until an herbalist treated her. An herbalist closed the deep cut in his left hand, saving his thumb, but he couldn’t move it until the stitches were removed. The royal guard considered him a hero for his actions and dedication to their queen. Ander noted his willingness to accept Crum as a suitor to his daughter. Aerison had five hundred volunteers ready to help me secure my country. They were mine for the asking.

I noted he didn’t mention Stina until the end. He wanted to meet, face to face, about what happened and her death.

Kurt’s letter was short, down to business. He questioned my reasoning for banishing Sebast, insisting we would talk about the situation after visiting Tindra.

Plans were for him to accompany Aerison.

I rubbed my temples, trying to avoid getting a headache.

Crum did what I would have expected. He protected those around him as best he could. As proud as I felt, I really wanted him by my side. I needed him here, in his homeland, helping me reassure the people.

Where would I house five hundred Varian soldiers? As much as I knew I needed them, Croy needed them, no one would believe they were here to help. If I let them stay in the capital, my detractors would call it an invasion. If I set them up outside the walls, it would be called a siege. Hopefully, I can find a workable solution. I need to talk to someone with better insight into the situation.

Chapter 1

Though my guards secured the area and Crum stood nearby, bow at the ready, Roi and I glanced over our shoulders as we created memorials. I clenched my jaw and wiped sweat away from my eyes. Fear of the raiders returning to finish their attack made it hard to keep my hand steady as I worked.

Four in total: a husband, two teenaged boys, and a young daughter. Making headstones was the least I could do for the poor woman they’d left behind.

I stood with my arm around the widow as my men lowered her family into the ground. Family farms should be a source of happiness, not used as a graveyard. We wept together as dirt flowed over them, sealing their bodies in the soil. The acrid smell of burnt wood mixed with the stench of dead livestock engraved itself in my memory the same way my finger dug into the stone, writing the family’s names in the cool, dark, Hornblende burial markers.

“Do you have family to go to?” I asked her.

Her head bobbed once.

“My guards will travel with you to keep you safe.”

She pulled me to her, hugging me tightly.

Four farms sacked. Twenty-eight graves in two weeks. This can’t continue. I need the Thanes to return the warriors they ordered back to the capital.

Snapping fingers interrupted my thoughts.

*     *     *

I was back in my study, safe inside the gray stone walls and sitting at the table across from my mother.

“Fitzeirick, focus. This is important,” she said, snapping her fingers once more.

I forced my concerns over Satra out of my thoughts and faked interest in the menu for my wedding feast. Every time I expressed my satisfaction, my mother found some little detail she insisted on changing. This time I tapped my foot and crossed my arms when she suggested switching the preserved pears for spiced, minced apples.

“Mother, it’s food. Everyone will be happy to have a free meal.”

She glared at me across the table and the candle in the alcove nearest her flared to life. “You’re the son of Eirick, it’s vital to make the right impression on your guests, especially the royals. They can’t think the man governing Croy’s newest skati is an uncultured commoner.”

I’m only his son because he took you as a mistress.

“I doubt a single member of the Council of Thanes will travel this far east. You and I both know Jarl Eirickson won’t bother to attend,” I argued. “Since Father died, they couldn’t care less about us. They’ll send their least favorite hird, or even a squire, to represent them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they tell the backstabbing schemers to stay awhile and spy on me.”

“Nonsense. Your father made you a skald for a reason. Ruling over this territory is a stepping-stone to greater things. They have to come. Neither the councilmen nor your half-brother would ignore their traditional duties. Now, back to the topic at hand…I have a compromise.”

I could almost taste the sugar in her voice. “What did you have in mind?

“We’ll leave the menu as it is and move forward. The first dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

My mother glanced toward the ceiling, then leaned forward and locked eyes with me. “You must dance with Aesa. You can’t dishonor tradition and I won’t allow you to insult her.”

I shook my head. “I move with the grace of a lame draft horse. Aesa’s the beautiful, graceful half of this couple. All eyes will be on her when she takes the floor. I might as well be invisible.”

“If everyone’s watching her, your clumsiness won’t matter,” she countered, smiling. “This is not open for debate. We have a month, more than enough time to teach you, and you will put an honest effort into the lessons. If I must, I’ll have Roi escort you.”

I tapped my fingers on the table, then pointed at her. “I do not dance.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but jumped at the unexpected knock on the door. “I thought you set aside today to finish planning your wedding,” she said, inking the quill.

I did, but I can’t ignore my duties. Of course, I didn’t dare say that to her.

“We will finish today. I don’t know what your hurry is. There’s no reason to rush. Aesa and I are both young and healthy. I’ll make sure you have grandchildren to dote over. As a matter of fact, I plan to spend a lot of time working on that during our honeymoon.”

The fire in her eyes told me I’d crossed a line.

“Roi knows to not disturb us unless absolutely necessary,” I explained and turned to the door. “Come in.”

Mother sighed.

My mentor stepped into the room. The creases in his forehead made a staircase to his bald scalp. That expression never brings good news.

He bowed. “Modir Sar’sa, I apologize for interrupting. Fitzeirick, the messenger returned with a sealed letter. He said you aren’t going to like it.”

How could they refuse my request for aid again?

I took the parchment, glanced over it, and read the official decision aloud. “As before, this is a regional dispute and not a concern of the Council of Thanes. Request denied.”

My jaw clenched tight as my fist closed, wadding the message. I glared at it, wishing to be a firesyth, just once, so I could burn the Thane’s refusal as it fell to the floor. Instead, I stomped on it and prepared to ground it into dust. “Fitzeirick,” my mother barked.

“What?” I snapped back.

“Calm yourself. The floor’s shaking.”

It took a moment before I noticed the floor was trembling. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to calm myself. “Can you blame me? The Thanes call these raids a regional dispute? The Satra nation sends soldiers into Croy, and the council doesn’t consider it a deliberate act of war? What is wrong with —”

“Let me through! I must see the skald!”

Commotion in the hallway cut off my rant. A shiver ran down my back as Roi stepped out. He returned with a guard following him.

The guard coughed. “Beg pardon Skald Fitzeirick. Another raid from the south. A young man collapsed near the southern post. He’s in bad shape, but managed to tell us about the raid on his family’s farm yesterday evening. Men wearing blue and red, just like the last survivor described. He's the only one that got away. We sent for a herbalist, but it may be too late.”

I looked at my mother and watched the color leave her face as I felt my cheeks grow warm. “The wedding plans can wait,” I stated flatly. “I need to see to my people. Roi, get your sword and meet me at the stable.”

Roi grabbed my shoulder. “Bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Could be a trap. Why’d the raids stop after leaving one witness? Before the widow, nothing was left alive — not even crops went untouched. Now they let another escape. We have to consider the possibility Satran soldiers are lying in wait. If Satra captures or kills you, what happens to your skati? Too risky.”

“I’ll bring the guards from the southern post,” I replied.

“And leave it unmanned?” Roi asked.

I threw up my hands. “I have to do something.”

“I have a suggestion,” Mother offered. “Go to the capital. Plead your case before the Council of Thanes in person.”

“I should do something for the victims.”

“If I may?” the guard said.

I nodded.

“I’ll get three or four men to escort a couple of herbalists to the farm. If we find more survivors, we’ll see to them. If not, we’ll give them a proper burial.”

I clenched my jaw for a second. “Hurry and take a stonesyth with a steady hand. The victims deserve proper headstones.”

The guard hurried out, almost tripping himself.

I turned back to my mother. “You’re right, I have to make the demand to the council myself. The raiders are slaughtering my people. I’ll be back in five days, six at the most. Work with Aesa on the wedding plans. She’ll be the centerpiece of the ceremony, after all. You two plan everything while I make sure I have a skati to be skald of. Roi, find Crum. Get the necessary supplies and meet me at the stable.

He nodded and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him.

Gathering the documents spread across the table, she looked at me and smiled. “I’m proud of you. Travel swift and safe.”

Looking at the floor, I shook my head. “I’m not ready for this.”

Mother cleared her throat. “Your father believed in you.”

My head snapped up. I stared at her for a moment, slack-jawed. “How can you say he believed in me? Father left me on my own after making me a skald. He didn’t even provide an advisor.”

She pulled me into a hug and whispered in my ear, “He wanted you to be your own man. To govern without someone influencing your decisions. He thought it would make you a better leader and prepare you to sit on the Council of Thanes one day. I suspect Eirickson’s hand in the trouble you’re having.”

I stepped back from her. “If he’s behind this, what hope do I have? The Jarl can overrule the council.”

She shook her head. “Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to? Don’t be stone headed. Get the council on your side. Even as Jarl, I doubt Eirickson is bold enough to go against a unanimous decision in your favor.”

“Assuming you’re right, how do I secure their support?”

She smiled. “This is your first appearance before the council in some time, you must make the right impression. Dress like a proper Croian Skald.” She paused and shook her finger at me. “And wear the family sword, not your hammer.”

“I prefer my hammer when I have to fight.”

The rest of the candles around the room burst into flame as she fixed me with a hard stare. For a heartbeat, they were brighter than the sunlight streaming through the windows.

She pursed her lips. “Fitzeirick, think. You’re going to negotiate, not fight. If you go in looking for a fight, Eirickson will use that to turn the council against you. The sword represents your authority, Eirick’s support. Make the right impression on the council and secure your skati. Keep your people safe.”

She’s right, as usual. I looked away from her for a moment, turned back, and nodded.

She grunted and strode out of the room, her short, brown hair bouncing with every step.

I considered what she said and packed my skaldic stole and the ornate sword. Looking at my hammer, I hesitated for a moment before packing it too. Just in case.

Making my way to the stable, I spared a moment to hope my mother calmed down before she got to Aesa’s house. An argument between firesyths could end with burning buildings.

Quickly tacking my horse, I walked it out of the stable and squinted against the bright, midday sun. Crum stood on the other of his horse, his shaggy, brown hair more disheveled than usual.

“Good to see you, my friend,” I called out.

He snorted and walked around his horse. His crumpled clothes looked slept in and I couldn’t miss a chance to tease him. “I think you missed a belt loop or two.”

He stomped over to me, putting us eye to eye. His bloodshot eyes confirmed my suspicion. “I want you to know I planned to sleep in today.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Instead, this oaf rousted me. He told me about the letter and the attack. You know I hate the capital.”

I heard Roi snicker.

“Sleeping in? It’s nearly midday. More like sleeping it off, I’d guess. If you prefer, I’ll send you to assist my mother and Aesa while they plan the wedding and festivities.”

He shook his head and shivered. “No way I’m getting between those two. Aesa’s the right woman for you, but she scares me and Sar’sa doesn’t care for me at all.”

Roi snorted and I didn’t try to hide my smile.

“Aesa scares you because she’s one of the few women around here immune to your advances, but you’re wrong about my mother. She likes you well enough, but not your cavalier attitude toward growing up.”

He rolled his eyes at me.

“And why do you hate the capital? You’ll find plenty of young ladies you haven’t charmed yet. Who knows? Maybe this trip will reward you with a fiancée of your own.”

Crum sputtered as he walked back to his horse.

I worried Roi might pass out from choking back actual laughter.

After buckling my pack behind the saddle, I pulled a little strength from the ground to help me get mounted and shifted around until the saddle felt comfortable. I need to ride more often.

“Can we please get this trip underway?” Crum asked, settling into his saddle. “Where are we going to sleep tonight?”

Roi caught his breath and mounted his horse. “As long as we keep a good pace, we’ll cross the river before needing to find someone to put us up for the night.”

“Should I send a messenger ahead?” I asked.

Roi shook his head. “No messenger would arrive ahead of us.”

“Lead the way,” I said, and we spurred our horses into a comfortable trot.

He led us west through the small market square not far from my hall. Most of the merchants were busy, but a few noticed me and waved or bobbed their heads.

I smiled and waved back.

The guards at the western post snapped to attention as we passed.

We stuck to the well-worn path used by farmers and woodsmen to deliver their goods to the market in town. Smaller trails snaked away toward houses, farms, and shops. Except for a few farmers working their fields, we were the only people around. I breathed slowly and let some tension leave my shoulders.

“How will Eirickson react to your request to address the Thanes?” Crum asked.

I stared at him for a moment. Mother has a point; he needs to grow up and pay attention. “All Croian Skalds have the right to speak before the council and make requests. I expect him to allow me to present the facts. The Satran army is invading our country through my Skati.”

Roi shook his head. “With all due respect, I don’t think that’s what he’s asking.”

“I know,” I grumbled.

“How about this,” Crum started, “when did you last speak with the Jarl?”

“At our father’s funeral.”

He gave a long whistle. “You didn’t attend Brunor Jani’s funeral?”

I looked at him. “I wasn’t invited.”

He nodded. “I’d heard only the Thanes attended the burial. Rumor has it Eirickson commanded her death. Some say he killed her himself.”

Who starts such ridiculous rumors? “Please don’t tell me you believe such nonsense. My half-brother and I may not see eye-to-eye, but it’s not right for people to talk about our Jarl like that. Eirickson’s got a cruel streak and a cold heart, but involvement in his own mother’s death would be a new low. Crum, in the future, I want to know about rumors like that.”

“Yes, my skald,” he said, in a mocking tone, bowing in his saddle.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Roi, remind me why I told you to get Crum? I’m having trouble remembering why he’s here.”

“I didn’t want to come in the first place,” Crum argued.

Roi shook his head for a moment. “I’m sure it had something to do with his ability to get out of bad situations almost as easy as he gets into them.”

“Ah, yes,” I responded. “You are the voice of reason, Roi. Thanks for reminding me of the many benefits of having Crum in my company. He serves a purpose other than entertainment.”

“Entertainment? Have you forgotten who all but saved your life when you fought Olver?” Crum asked.

“That would be Roi. Olver bested both of us.”

“Fine, but I kept you from getting hurt when you decided it’d be a good idea to break a wild horse.”

“Yes, you did. I fell on you when he bucked me off and then I had to carry you home with a broken leg,” I drawled.

“Only because you wouldn’t let me syth a brace.”

“We were in the middle of a field with no wood in sight.”

“Well…I guess you have a point, but who introduced you to your fiancée?” Crum demanded, his tone haughty and playful.

Roi barked out a laugh.

I grinned. “Thanks to one of your misguided attempts at romance.”

Roi joined in. “And what a memorable meeting it was. She ran into you, knocked you out. She thought she’d killed you. Poor girl was white as fresh cotton, scared she’d end up imprisoned or worse. You woke and it was love at first sight. Ah, good times! Crum, it might be a good idea to quit while you are behind and save some face for once.”

Crum snorted. “When you put it that way, why do you keep me around?”

“You and Roi will always have my back. The royal court is full of schemers and I know I can trust you two.”

Crum grinned. “I do my best to keep the women from distracting you. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.”

Roi groaned. “I’m sure Fitzeirick appreciates your hard work.”

“The job is its own reward,” he replied.

“At least I have Roi for a moral compass,” I commented.

“A quality of all great men,” Roi said.

“Great man,” Crum scoffed.

“Of course, great men are never appreciated until they are gone,” Roi replied.

As the friendly jabs continued, I suspected they were purposely trying to get my mind off the ugly business driving me to the capitol. Of course, Crum never takes anything too serious. That thought brought a smile to my face and I decided to let myself relax and try to enjoy the journey.

Our shadows grew long before I sent Crum ahead to find somewhere to rest. As he rode out of sight, Roi muttered, “I don’t want to ride in the dark hoping to find Crum when he comes back.”

“I agree. Let’s pick up our pace a little, if nothing else to shorten his ride back.”

We urged our horses to speed up and soon caught sight of Crum galloping toward us on a different horse.

“I found a farm not far from here. They made me take their horse so mine could rest. When the farmer heard you needed board, he insisted you spend the night in his bed. They’re preparing a feast for you. I tried to talk them out of it. They wouldn’t listen.”

I sighed. “That isn’t what I wanted. A warm, dry place to lay our heads after a modest meal would have been fine.”

“I tried to convince them,” Crum assured me. “I even insisted you’d slept in hay barns before, but that didn’t matter to them.”

Why must my title be such a burden? All I need is a simple meal and warm, safe place for the night. I shook my head and sighed heavily. “Fine, lead the way. What’s the farmer’s name? Maybe I can talk him into not giving up his own bed for the night.”

“Arnfred. But I don’t think you’re going to change his mind.”