Page 56 of Court of Treachery

“I–What? Nonsense. I cannot. I don’t understand!” Harper spluttered.

Vanir cackled and moved close to clasp Harper’s hands and draw her to her feet. “It matters not,Frelsa. Don’t you see?It does not matter. It will come to pass if you heed her words.”

“But I don’t know what they mean! Who is she?” Harper protested.

Vanir laughed, rich and throaty. “Oh, I did not say they would make sense. But nonetheless, heed them as best you can, for Erendriel’s words will save us all. You may not wield the blade that severs the serpent's head, but you are a puppet of greater powers. Trust them to move you as they will.”

Erendriel? Valxiron?Chills crawled down Harper’s back at Vanir’s words, and for a moment, she felt an icy sheet of panic drench her. This was not a game ofchatura. She was in charge of her own actions. There was one simple problem—she had no idea what to do.

In the dark, eerie cave, with only the babble of the wellspring—which spoke in its burbling, hissing voice—it was easy to see wraiths and threats. Hastily, she bid Vanir farewell, rushed past the curious Halvar, and fled to the bridge above the cleft. Dimitrius was not there. It was only when she stepped out onto the stone bridge that she realised that was the cause of her sinking heart, because somewhere in herself, she knew what she had really sought was to ask him. Knowing that he would have told her, if he could.

In solitude, she breathed in the cold air as she sat and leaned against the wall that guarded the abyss. Below, Vanir’s waterfall tumbled. Harper closed her eyes, reliving the vision over and over, trying to recall every last detail, each word the strange woman had said, and Vanir’s own cryptic offerings. She could not help but wonder whether Dimitrius would appear again—or decipher whether she sought or dreaded that. It was almost dark when she rose on stiff, aching, chilled limbs… with no answers.

She could tell the others thought her vision almost silly, but the dwarves—for the könig was told all of the Mother’s prophecies at once and already knew of her vision—took it far more seriously.

“We cannot allow you to come with us.” König Korrin glared at Harper, who stood before him, outfitted in one of his smith’s own fine mail shirts.

“With respect, König, I am not one of your subjects. Thus, you cannot command me,” said Harper. She stood tall, but her heart hammered, and she had to lock her knees to stop them from shaking. To speak to a king thusly! Toroth would have struck her down where she stood, but she had taken the measure of Korrin and knew he was not the same.

He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “The Mother’s visions do not lie. If fated She says, fated you are. If you are the one who will save us all, it is too much to risk you.”

“You would lock me up to prevent harm coming to me?” Harper’s lips curled in derision.What a load of tripe.“Vanir—” Gasps rang out at her disrespect, and she checked herself. “The Mother told me to trust where the visions willed me to go.”

It served her own ends to use Vanir’s words to buy her freedom. Korrin wouldn’t imprison her, surely. It did not seem like the kind of deed the dwarves would commit. It was that gamble she bet on, holding her breath unconsciously as she waited for his reply. She could not be certain, after all. Not after she had seen how they treated their slaves, thetikrit. The pits in Afnirheim had been their true home, after all.

Korrin ground his teeth together. “No,” he admitted. “We would not do that. You have committed no crime. You are free to come and go as you will, as a guest of Keldheim and my hall.”

“Then with respect, König, I will go to Afnirheim. I have a vested interest in what is there, as we all do, as the Mother has seen,” she added pointedly, bringing her fist to her chest to show him respect in her defiance, glad she knew at least this one small custom of his people. He subsided at her gesture, but she could see he was still unhappy.

“Are you sure this is wise?” Brand murmured to her as the könig dismissed them to speak more with his jarls on their forthcoming strategy and inevitable battles.

“No,” Harper admitted. “But I don’t know what else to do. There are so many questions and no answers.”

“I will find answers. Andrevenge,” said Erika gleefully, smiling darkly at Harper. “I have waited a lifetime to repay the suffering of my family. Now that I find the one who caused it is within my reach, I will see it done.”

“You cannot presume to take him on single-handedly,” said Brand, exasperated. “Saradon is an elf, a most powerful one now, it seems. You are strong, but none of us would get near him.”

“I don’t care. I’ll die trying. I’ll try, even if none of you come with me.”

“I will always come with you,” Brand said in a low voice. Harper pretended not to hear. Aedon walked in stony-faced silence beside her. She was still not truly speaking to him.

“We’re all going,” Harper eventually said. “When the dwarves depart for Afnirheim next week, we willallgo with them. Erika, we will stand side by side with you, come what may.” She felt the weight of the nomad’s surprise upon her—and then her warm hand on Harper’s shoulder with a silent squeeze of thanks before it dropped away.

Vanir’s words weighed on her. The mysterious vision of the one Vanir called Erendriel. Somehow, Harper was just another body in this, yet something more. She shivered as the darkclouds and scorched, ruined land of her visions teased her. The stakes could not have been higher, if what she had seen would come to pass should she fail. They could avert a catastrophe. Or they could die.

45

DIMITRI

Keeping busy was the only way Dimitrius had managed not to dwell upon what had happened with Harper. If he did, he would crumble, and he could not afford such a calamity. And so, he polished his masks and made sure not a chink presented itself in his defences as he surveyed the throne room of Tournai.

King Toroth’s throne stood empty for the first time in centuries as the high council congregated in the hall without him, all silent and expectant. Not even a whisper rustled through them, their attention fixed upon Raedon, standing one step down from Toroth’s throne, and Dimitri, standing one step farther down from him. Their rank in this could not have been stated more clearly. Commander and advisor.

There had been surprise and fear at the beginning, rippling through the court in a hail of rumours. Why were they being summoned? Was it one of Toroth’s latest fits? More than a few faces were absent, for fear of their own fates in the king’s volatile hands. They would find out what had passed soon enough and no doubt come flooding back. For now, however, there was only confusion. Raedon and Dimitri had ever been on opposite sides of a bitter personal vendetta. Now they stood together beforethe empty throne. Dimitri suppressed a smile at the riddle with which he and Raedon faced them. Dimitri nodded to Raedon, who cleared his throat and straightened.

“We have summoned the full council today for a matter most urgent. It has been coming for a while, as I am sure you are all aware, though none of us would have dreamt to utter it. The king is no longer fit to sit the throne.”

A muttering rose amongst them, whispers chasing around the room.

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