Page 50 of Edge of the Wild

“I had planned to ride with your party today, Your Majesty, but given what happened last night…”

“Stay. See your house to rights, first,” Erik said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Join us if you can.”

Kjaran nodded. “Thank you.”

They rode out of the yard, and across a field whose snow was scarred from last night’s skirmish, the scent of roasting flesh burning their nostrils.

Oliver was warmly dressed, but he still felt a certain inner coldness that no cloak or hood could hold at bay.

Birger put his horse alongside Erik’s, and they fell into a low, quick discussion.

Oliver lacked the energy to eavesdrop. His horse was fresher than he was, and tugged at the reins. Oliver flexed his fingers, deepened his seat, and murmured quiet, soothing words until the gelding settled. Sore from spending all of yesterday in the saddle, he knew he held himself gingerly, wishing, a little, that he’d asked to ride on one of the sleighs among their party – whisking along to their left, harnesses jangling – but knowing that it was important he look tough and worthy of his warrior king in the eyes of Aeretoll.

Leif reined up beside him. “Uncle said there was an animal last night,” he said, quietly. “Up on the wall. In the air.”

Oliver gave the reins another quick half-halt, the gelding settled further, and he shot a glance toward Leif. The prince wore an almost eager look, though last night’s fear and hesitance remained.

“Something flew over us,” Oliver said. “But I was a little…out of it.”

Leif managed to arch a single brow, like his uncle, even as his horse tossed its head and side-stepped. He quieted the mare with a quick bit of rein work, and never lost his attention on Oliver. “Out of it? What do you mean?”

Oliver sighed, staring down at his gloves on the reins a moment, trying to gather his thoughts on the matter. “I’m not sure I know what I mean. This sort of thing has never happened outside of a fever flare-up.” When Leif’s other brow lifted, he said, “I’ve never felt…outside myself, like I did last night, except when I was gripped by fever. One moment I was fully in control of my faculties, and the next, I was…well, I’d gone down to my knees, and apparently, I was screaming. But,” he pressed on, before Leif’s concerned, knitted brow could become a verbal protest, “I do know that something flew over us, there on the parapet. Lord Kjaran claimed it was a snow owl, but it seemed much too large for that.” He made a face. “And, also, it was…I think it was inside my head.”

Leif frowned a moment – then his brow cleared. “You’re a Drake!” he said, loud enough to startle the reindeer alongside them. “Sorry,” he offered to the driver. Then, quieter: “Oliver, you have Drake blood. Was it a dragon?”

“What? No, no, it couldn’t have been,” Oliver said, but his heart thumped hard against his ribs. “The dragons are gone, anyway, aren’t they? And I’m not really a Drake.”

Leif rolled his eyes. “You’re a Drake by blood, number one, bastard or not. And the dragons aren’t gone, they’re just…missing. Quiet. The clans have claimed to see cold-drakes.”

“So you think…a dragon…flew over Silfr Hall last night.”

“What could be larger than an owl, at night, in the midst of us all being attacked by ghosts wearing antlers?” Leif countered.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Leif snorted. “There’s eagles on the mountainsides.”

“But eagles don’t fly at night.”

“Not real ones, no. The old shamans claimed to be skinwalkers.”

“They sicced an eagle on us?”

“Or turned into one.” Leif gave a facial shrug. “They always said they could.”

“Do you believe they actually did?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe? All I do know is: the farther you get into the Wastes, the stranger everything becomes.”

“Ah. How comforting.”

~*~

“You didn’t need to bring them yourself, my lady,” one of the kitchen maids said, hurrying over with a worried look to take the tray of dirty dishes Tessa had brought down.

“It was no trouble. I’m glad to help, Mabil.” The girl smiled, and bobbed a quick curtsy before she whisked the tray away toward the huge, steaming wash tubs that stood along the far wall.

Preparations for lunch were well underway: a fleet of white-aproned assistants in headscarves stood at the long, plank tables in the center of the room, chopping, peeling, dicing.

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