Page 50 of Blood of Wolves

Leif sent them an amused smirk. “Not likethat.”

Oliver blinked, wide awake now. “Since your uncle is the sort of busybody who doesn’t want to appear like a busybody–”

“Hey, now.”

“–I’ll ask on both our behalf. Leif, did you tumble our sweet necromancer? Because I might be cross with you if you did.”

“No, I –no,” he repeated, with more emphasis, in the face of their stares. He glanced away, cheeks pinking in the torchlight. “I did no such thing – though it wasn’t for a lack of him trying.”

“Leif,” Erik began.

Oliver held up a finger. “Shh, I’m handling this. Leif, what happened?”

“Nothinghappened. He was drunk, and upset, and he thought being with me would – I don’t know – make him feel better. At least temporarily. But don’t worry. I got it sorted.”

It was shockingly easy to imagine Náli, as Oliver had left him, brimming with anxiety and a teenager’s overactive emotions, dipping into the wine, and then making a stupid decision. No one that young could play the adult all the time; cracks in the armor let wild, young urges leak out. Náli wanted Mattias, but Mattias was professional, and so Náli had gone looking for someone, anyone, who might make him feel wanted and alive, before he risked his life in a whole new way tomorrow.

Oliver remembered their conversation –Leif likes you– and winced. “Um. Right. Well…that might have been my fault. At least a little.”

“Hm,” Erik hummed.

“I might…just perhaps…have suggested – inadvertently, mind you.”

“Oh, of course.”

“That – you know, in an effort to cheer him up, he’s very down right now, and I feel sorry for him, anyone would, given his situation–”

“Oliver.”

“Right. Yes, well, I was listing off all the people who liked him. Me. You” – he gestured to Erik without making eye contact, keenly aware of the weight of his gaze – “and Leif.”

“Ah,” Leif said.

“I suppose he took it the wrong way.” Oliver resisted the urge to rub at the back of his neck, but barely. He could feel the flush on his face. “Sorry,” he offered.

Leif sighed, and shrugged. “No harm done. I do like him. But.” He slanted a look toward Oliver that was frighteningly reminiscent of his uncle. “But, perhaps next time, make sure he knowsthe wayin which I like him.”

“Yes.” He risked a look toward Erik, finally, and found that his dark brows were drawn together into a scowl – but that his lips twitched with suppressed mirth. “It isn’t that funny.”

“The fact that the little fool is going to be sick in the morning and might fall right off his dragon isn’t funny, no. But you offering Leif up for a good mauling – that’s rather funny, dear.”

“Hey,” Leif protested.

Oliver bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, scowled instead. “You’re both…ugh.” He faced forward – faced his sleeping drakes. Percy cracked an eye open to a glowing blue slit, and when Oliver smiled at him, closed it again, snuggling in tighter to the bundle of overlapping pearlescent limbs that was his family.

Three settled souls, just as Oliver and his Northmen settled with matching sighs.

“Do you really think she’ll let Náli ride her?” Leif ventured.

“All I can do is hope, and ask,” Oliver said. “So I suppose we’ll see.”

10

Aeres

Another morning in the close, dark hours before dawn. Another target, bristling with arrows, while light from pitch torches danced across the trampled snow of the practice yard.

“Lift your elbow more – there,” Estrid said. “No, you dropped it again.Lift, lift.”

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