Page 123 of Edge of the Wild

He was met by three snorts.

Birger said, “Aye, well, you made a good case for yourself, at least.”

Oliver halted, and turned to face them as they did the same, lined up three-across in front of him, all wearing different versions of the same concerned expression – though Erik’s at least held a touch wry affection. “Look, I know it’s very martial up here – all right, fine, totally martial – but you can’t tell me that at least some of them don’t see the wisdom in diversifying the skillsets a little. Right?”

Leif said, “You did make a very good case.”

Oliver frowned. “But you don’t think it mattered.”

Leif and Birger both started to respond, and Erik spoke over them. “It takes time, this sort of thing. The clans are cautious, and they don’t take kindly to outsiders. They thinkwe” – he gestured to either side of him – “are outsiders of a sort. I think today was a good start. And if they don’t all accept you, so what? The goal is to get out of this valley alive.”

“Comforting.”

Birger leaned forward to pat his shoulder consolingly. “Just think: the worst part is over.”

“We’ve got the games next,” Leif said, and he sounded eager. He glanced over his shoulder toward the large, relatively flat field where stakes were being driven into the ground, the steady thud of hammer on wood echoing across the lake.

“Please tell me I’m not expected to compete in any of them,” Oliver said, unable to keep his exhaustion from his voice. It was a purely mental, emotional exhaustion. The council meeting had gone on for hours – hours in which he’d been asked the same sorts of questions over and over again.What does the South want with us?The answer,nothing of you specifically, you great hairy lummox, worded more gracefully, of course, hadn’t seem to penetrate a single skull. It hadn’t felt like any progress was made.

“You’re not.” A concerned notch appeared between Erik’s brow. “Here. Come.” He took Oliver’s arm, pulled it through his, and started walking again. “Leif, go and get ready. We’ll be in the crowd when it’s time.”

The prince went loping off, his strides buoyant, youthful, and ground-covering.

“I’ll go and see what needs doing in the hall,” Birger offered, behind them.

Erik gestured over his shoulder in acknowledgement.

Oliver gripped Erik’s arm tight, and didn’t try to refrain from leaning against him as they waded through the deep, untrammeled snow. He took a deep breath – what felt like his first since breakfast – and let it out in a hard gust that eased a little of the ache in his lungs. “I know I shouldn’t have said it.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t play cute,” Oliver muttered, gaze on the ground, watching where he stepped. “You just said so yourself: I promised them a dragon, and that is a promise I am very unable to deliver.”

A beat passed, snow crunching underfoot. Erik said, “You don’t actually happen to know where it went, do you? The dragon?”

“If I did, I’d be whistling for it like a dog as we speak. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Well, I don’t know how it works at all.”

“Neither do I.” Oliver sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose; the cold was burning his sinuses. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“Stressful.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

Erik pulled them to a halt, and Oliver finally glanced up at him. “We’ve talked about it before, I know,” he said, “but the clans are the way that they are, and have always been. They loathe the idea of change, and resent when others change – it’s why they’ve always distrusted Aeretoll. One of the reasons, anyway. They want everyone to be mired in their same old, primitive horse shit: half-starving through the winter, at the whims of wild herd movements, huddled in tents and ancient longhouses with gaps between the boards. That’s what being a real man is all about for them.

“Anyone I brought along with me, man or woman, Southern or Aeretollean nobility would have been subject to scrutiny and insult.” He flicked a grin. “You held your own better than most.”

“I didn’t exactly charm anyone.”

“I’ve been at council meetings where blades were drawn.” Erik cocked a brow for emphasis. “And where more than one fistfight broke out. Today was a success by that metric.”

Oliver breathed out shakily. “Well. When you put it that way.”

His smile deepened.

“Erik!”

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