Chapter 6
Once again, Svanhild woke suddenly. But this time, she found herself alone. And she already knew the cause of the noise. She crept out of the small room, keeping close to the rough stonework as she slipped out into what had once been the main hall of the palace.
“What are you doing, Aleks?”
His hands still tied the ropes around his tunic as he turned to look at her. The second she looked into his eyes, her suspicions hardened into truth.
“Don't do it,” she said. “I'm not going to stop protecting you. I don't care about the cost.”
“I intercepted a second messenger during the night. Another selkie lord who wants me dead. This is getting bigger than just me. Or even just you,” Aleks said, looking away.
“What do you mean?” Svanhild demanded, a rush of panicked adrenalin making her dizzy.
“This is your cause. Your birthright. I'm not going to let you throw it away for me. I deserve whatever I get.”
“Don't you dare say things like that!”
Svanhild grabbed him hard by the shoulders, forcing him to look into her eyes.
“I'm not going to let you do this,” she said fiercely. His eyes burned into hers, full of emotion – fear? After so many years surviving the worst of the selkie world, why would he do something so reckless now?
“You could do so much for all selkies,” he said, his eyes pleading. “There are other people who need you more than I do.”
“I don't care. I need you. There's no way I can do any of this if I don't have you with me.”
He moved so fast that Svanhild hardly saw it. But then his arms wrapped tightly around her, his face close to hers. His lips touched hers, hard and demanding.
For one brief, incredible second, Svanhild relished the taste of him, the warmth of his skin, the safe strength of his arms. But then she pushed him away, shoving hard at his chest.
“What are you doing?” she shouted at him, tears prickling in her eyes. “I need you here as my friend, Aleks. As my supporter. I need someone I can trust. Please don't ruin that.”
He let go of her as if she was red-hot, looking over her shoulder into the distance.
“Please accept my apologies,” he said, stiffly. “I don't know what came over me.”
He paused for a moment.
“Please believe that I will be your loyal servant for as long as I live. I will do my best to help you achieve your goals.”
“Good,” Svanhild said, a little shakily. “But I will tell you again: I am not going to give up your life for the sake of any goal. I want to honour my father's memory, but he is dead and you are alive. I intend to keep you that way.”
Aleks nodded, still not looking at her.
“We go to see Per,” Svanhild said in the most regal voice she could manage. “This is my problem to solve, and I will find a way to compromise with him. Get ready to leave.”
She swept back into the small sleep-room, face impassive but tears threatening to erupt if she let her concentration falter for even a second.
Why had Aleks done that? Why had he even thought to kiss her?
She thought of all the times Klaus had laughed at her flaming red hair and teased her for her dark eyes and sunken cheeks. She had never been beautifully curved and shining-eyed like Katrina, whose honey-blond hair moved gracefully with the current and settled softly around her shoulders. Even Margit, elegant and refined, couldn't compete with Katrina - and Klaus made sure she knew it.
Svanhild had been heartbroken when she realised how cruelly Klaus treated Margit, flaunting his mistress in front of her. But the law let him do as he wished, and no one would dream of criticising how the Lord of the Icy Shores lived his life. Besides, a selkie woman could suffer a far worse fate than an unfaithful husband. But Margit deserved so much better.
For the first time, Svanhild began to see Klaus as a stranger might. Cruel and manipulative, he especially mistreated the women in his life. Much as Svanhild had loved him, her uncle had never treated her well, always finding little ways to make her feel weak, helpless, unattractive, awkward, unlovable. Could Aleks be the same, just finding ways to tease and upset her?
She drew in a deep, ragged breath, wishing that she could ask Margit for advice. But she had left Margit behind. She would just have to continue with her mission and ignore the complications presented by Aleks. Her emotions did not matter when so much more was at stake.
“I'm sorry,” Aleks said, startling her. Svanhild spun round to see him hovering in the doorway, his face half-hidden by shadows. She waited, watching him, staying so still that the only movement came from her breath bubbling up around her and her hair gently tickling her cheeks in the current.
“I did not mean any disrespect,” he said, his voice more formal than she could ever remember hearing before. “I'm sorry for that. You trusted me and I broke that trust.”
He bowed low, the movement fluid and well-practised, yet somehow forced. Something deeper lay in his eyes, behind the politeness and apology. Perhaps she would eventually find it.
“There's no need to keep apologising,” Svanhild said, brushing past him as she swam out through the palace and into the seaweed forest. “We need to discuss this with Per.”
“I don't think that's a good idea,” Aleks argued, kicking hard to catch up with her. It didn't seem to leave him at all out of breath.
“Don't get caught up in problems that I made myself,” he continued, a note of pleading in his voice. Svanhild ignored him, swimming steadily onward in the direction of Per's palace. Aleks finally seemed to understand that she wouldn't be swayed. He followed her silently, each stroke so smooth and controlled that Svanhild could barely tell anyone swam behind her.
It was not until the high white walls came into view ahead that Svanhild began to feel the tingle of nerves. To her surprise, the guards pulled the doors open and ushered her through without a word. How did Per know to expect them? They permitted even Aleks to swim straight through the towering archway and into the darkness of the hall beyond.
“Cousin Svanhild,” Per said wearily, looking up from the intricately carved runestick he held in his hands. “I was expecting you to visit.”
“Every single one of us is threatened by the Wildlings,” Svanhild told him, drawing her magic around her in a protective cloak. “We need to act together. All of us.”
Per nodded, his eyes tired. “You're right, and I offer you my apologies. I acted in anger. It's time for that to change.”
“You're willing to drop the grudge you hold against Aleks?” Svanhild demanded.
“I am.”
With those two simple words, Svanhild felt her entire world change. She didn't have to choose between her father's memory and Aleks's life.
“What changed your mind?” she asked.
“You aren't the only person to bring the rumours of the Wildlings,” Per said. “We can't deny the danger any longer. You're right. We have to work together.”
Svanhild and Aleks exchanged a glance, and she saw the same stunned disbelief that she felt, lurking deep behind his almost–emotional eyes. New hope began to grow.
“Then you're willing to work with us? Both of us?”
Per nodded again, but his eyes were still troubled.
“I need to warn you, though. There will be others who will not drop their grudges. And Klaus has a long reach.”
The sick feeling settled back into Svanhild's stomach. Klaus. Always there to ruin her opportunities and destroy her confidence.
Aleks's voice came from beside her, confident but somehow distant.
“I can handle Klaus.”
“No,” Svanhild said, the word bursting out before she had even formed the thought. “I will handle Klaus myself.”
“Leave Klaus to the politicians and the warriors,” Per said, his voice kind. Every nerve in Svanhild's body flared bright and alive.
“I will be the one who defeats Klaus!” she shouted, magic erupting from her in visible flames, curling through the water and licking at her fiery curls. “He has murdered my father, stolen my birthright, and denied my independence. I am as strong and capable as any warrior or politician, and you will listen when I speak.”
Per and Aleks both froze, their eyes wide and terrified, the last of the flames still dancing along their silhouettes.
“I will follow and obey you,” Aleks said, bowing his head.
Per went further. He slumped to his knees, and then pressed his face flat against the rough matting of the hall floor.
“My Queen,” he said, the words floating from his mind to hang pure and clear in the water.
It had begun.
“Klaus will pay,” she vowed, feeling the magic twist her words into a promise more binding than all the ropes she had ever woven. “But I will not stop here. I will right all that is wrong with our people, and I will bring us back together. United, we will survive.”