Chapter 4
Hiding out and hoping for the best had never appealed to Svanhild. Tapping her fingers on the rough stone of the wall, she watched as Aleks neatened his clothes up as best he could and smoothed down his blond curls even as a rogue current lifted them up again.
“You're sure about this?” he asked her, his blue eyes worried.
She looked down at the floor, scanning the faded dolphin mosaics that still leaped from corner to corner under all the dirt. Perhaps one day those dolphins would be bright and shining again. Watching the ancient ruins come to life once more would be beautiful.
“These men are my family,” she said, making her voice as strong as she could manage. “My mother was kin to almost all of the western lords. They will at least grant me an audience.”
“If Klaus has already spoken to them-”
“No other lord is beholden to Klaus. He has no kin here.”
“Then we will try,” Aleks said, but the worry had not left his eyes. He gestured her out of the door as they began their long trek to the stronghold of the Long Moon selkies. Two days in the wilderness had been long enough for Svanhild to plan. The time had come for her to rally support against Klaus - and to begin pulling the selkies together under the authority of the crown that she clutched in one hand.
But they met their first problem at the very borders of the Long Moon lands, three sentries slipping silently from the seaweed to hover before them. Aleks's hand went straight to his knife, but Svanhild caught his arm.
She introduced herself, using every title she could claim, but the sentries barely blinked.
“I am here to see Lord Per,” she told them.
“Lord Per meets with the Lords of the West today,” one guard told her. “No one else is to be admitted.”
“I am here to join that meeting,” Svanhild said, her head held high, her gaze unwavering.
“No one is to be admitted,” the guard repeated.
Svanhild drew in a deep breath, letting her magic settle around her skin like a cloak, the power glowing softly in the water.
“I am the last child of the house of kings, cousin of every lord who sits in your hall. I hold the crown of the greatest kingdom our ocean has ever seen, and I am kin to this house. You will grant me access.”
The sentries all exchanged glances, and then drifted to one side.
Triumphant, Svanhild shot forwards, crossing the border into Long Moon territory. She pulled Aleks along with her, his arm still warm under her hand, but the guards thrust out their spears.
“Not him,” one said. “You go alone.”
She paused, turning to look at Aleks. Leaving him behind felt like a betrayal after everything he had done to support and serve her. But, looking into his unnecessarily handsome face, she wondered if leaving him behind might be best after all. She could not risk distraction and her life held no room for romantic relationships. Independence meant never marrying.
Nodding at Aleks to remain, she removed her hand, rubbing her fingers against her palm as it cooled back down to water temperature. Then she followed the guards towards the great palace of the Long Moons.
Her mother had grown up in this palace, on the edge of the Firelands. Here, her father had first met the beautiful young woman and fallen madly in love. Svanhild had never visited, but she had dreamed of it often. This palace had once been home to the great kings of the sea, and now her cousin Per held it as his crumbling fortress, its glory almost gone. Svanhild wondered if Per looked like her mother. She would probably never know; her mother had died when she was barely weeks old, and no one ever spoke of her.
They swam through the main gates, tumbledown white stone walls rising around them, topped with tall turrets and a soaring stone keep. No other fortress like this could be found in the whole of the Atlantic, everyone said.
The guards led her through the main courtyard, past curious crowds of selkies dressed in the traditional colours of the Long Moons and some of the other western lordships, and into the hall. No dark, wooden, warm place like the hall of the Icy Shores, this great stone room lay in the heart of the old palace. Rings of columns around its edges towered up so high that Svanhild could barely make out the dolphin mosaics cascading across the top of the columns. Faded and dirty, they looked like those she had seen that morning, in the much smaller ancient palace.
A group of men hovered in a loose circle in the middle of the room, but they all broke away as she entered, turning to look at her. She lifted her chin again, looking each man in the eye in turn.
“And who is this?” one man asked, swimming towards her. By the dark green of his clothing ropes and the gold that glittered at his wrists, Svanhild guessed he must be Lord Per of the Long Moons.
“Greeting, cousin,” she said. “I am Svanhild of the Icy Shore. I have come to ask for your support.”
“Greeting, cousin,” he replied. “I am Per, lord of these lands. We had not expected to see you here.”
“Are the stories true?” another man, a little older and overweight, asked as he swam forwards. What a miracle he could even stay afloat with all the gold heaped around his neck and arms.
“Manners, Lord Harald,” Per chided, and Svanhild flushed bright red. What an unpleasant surprise to meet Harald, the lord she had snubbed so publicly. What was he doing here in the west?
“I come to seek justice,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. What stories had they already heard?
“I have heard it from Klaus's own thoughts that he killed my father, the true Lord of the Icy Shores. I call on the western lords, my last kin, to help me take my vengeance and see justice done.”
They responded with a moment of total silence. What thoughts were they sharing in private? Then Harald burst out laughing, turning away with a shake of his head. Per leaned forwards, his eyes piercing.
“Is this true?” he asked her.
“I swear it,” Svanhild said, her thoughts no louder than a whisper.
Per looked troubled. “This is a great injustice indeed,” he said slowly. “And made worse by the fact that you, my cousin, should have rightly inherited, if Klaus is the criminal you claim. I would certainly like to see the Icy Shores in friendly hands.”
“The Icy Shores are at least in secure hands,” another lord pointed out, not even looking at Svanhild. “I'd take any man, whatever he's done, over a woman. Ladies belong at the weaving loom, not in council.”
“I am as wise as any man of my years,” Svanhild said, holding back the rage that built in her stomach and threatened to force its way up her throat.
“And they aren't enough years,” another man said, his eyes friendlier. “We want justice to be done, of course, but Klaus is a man of good experience. An unstable Icy Shores would be a risk to all of us.”
“If Klaus could even be removed,” yet another lord pointed out. “I won't risk a single man of mine on someone else's problems.”
“I will stand with Per,” one said. “We help our own. Svanhild is kin.”
“This still isn't our problem,” the last one said, or was it the one before? Svanhild's head swam, and the faces all seemed to merge into one. Each lord looked the same, another terrified man unsure of how to lead his people through all the fear and mistrust. They spoke the same language, worshipped the same gods, and yet they saw the differences above the similarities.
“This is your problem as well,” she said softly. “This is more than just Klaus.”
She held the crown out in front of her, a soft cyclone of magic swirling around her and setting the emerald gemstones winking beneath their coating of dirt. The lords all fell silent, gathering around her in the shape of a half-moon.
“The Wildlings are here,” she told them. “They walked across Icy Shores land just three days ago. They have crossed your territory already, and they will do it again.”
From the shock and horror in Per's eyes, he had not even imagined this.
“The Wildlings would never dare enter selkie land,” one lord said, but his fear tinged the taste of the water around him.
“We must work together to defeat them,” she told him. “Klaus cannot be trusted. Let me hold the Icy Shores and we will all work together to secure the land against the Wildlings.”
“You would trust us when you won't trust your own uncle?” Harald asked. “You're a fool if you think this will get you the power you want. But Klaus already told us you'd been stupid enough to run away with that berserker guard. I'll warn you, girl: don't trust him. The man's a murderer, and completely insane.”
“I trust Aleksander,” Svanhild said steadily. “But I do not trust Klaus, the man who murdered my father. He will do whatever it takes to seize power.”
“Don't rush into these accusations,” Harald warned. “What evidence do you really have? Are you sure enough to stake your uncle's life on it?”
“I heard the words myself,” Svanhild said, but the doubt began to blossom. Why would Klaus have said something like that where anyone could hear it?
“Don't leave again with your pet berserker,” Harald said. “He's dangerous. Come back with me. The proposal still stands. Or I'll take you back to Klaus, if you aren't ready for marriage yet. He's a good man, and he'll take care of you. This can all be forgotten.”
Svanhild stared at him, blackness creeping in at the edge of her vision. This nightmare had begun the night she overheard Klaus, and it still continued to darken.
“If there are Wildlings, we need to prepare,” another lord was saying, his thoughts faded, as if they came from a great distance. “We must postpone this meeting, Per. Each of us has people to protect.”
“You are all fools!” Svanhild screamed, her words ripping loose along with her magic, flying through the hall in a great whirlpool, sending the wall-hangings flying and overturning the benches.
“How can you not understand? You will be stronger together. Hold your borders together, and support each other! You claim to care about your people, but you're risking their safety for the sake of your independence. What is the point of councils like this if you are not willing to actually do anything?”
A group of selkie lords shot forward, looming over her as she tried not to shrink down towards the floor, their power already pressing against her.
“Not in my hall,” Per said, his calming magic slipping in to form a shield around her. “Cousin Svanhild, I think it would be best if you left now.”
She took his advice, flying back out of the hall and past the surprised sentries, who threw the gates open to let her out. What a fool, to expect a group of self-centred men to treat her like an equal. Well, she would save them from themselves, whether they wanted saving or not. If no one else could see how weak the selkies had become, then she would have to act by herself.
“We have to leave,” she told Aleks, still hovering anxiously on the border as she swam towards him. He grabbed her arms, holding her a little closer than was comfortable. She shook herself loose and swam past him, knowing that he would follow.
“There won't be any help here. But I am more sure than ever of what I must do.”