“Enough!” she shouted, emerging from the back of the cottage and feeling as much uncertainty as her body betrayed with its quivering.
The man surprisingly listened to her and let go of his invisible hold on Lattimer, evident by the man gasping a hungry gulp of air. Erik’s jaw jutted in disapproval; his eyes flashed a warning she did not heed.
“He is not the one you need to speak with. I am,” she said.
“Ailsa,” Erik growled through gnashed teeth. “Go back to the hall. This does not concern you.”
She did not look at Erik, her gaze fixed on the stranger standing on her pier. His hood turned toward her. The torchlight kissed his lips and revealed a foreboding smirk, the kind that made her want to see what else hid beneath his cowl.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice rising a level in genuine curiosity.
She swallowed, forcing back a choke. His eyes were a mystery beneath the hood, but she felt them burning into her flesh, forcing a thin sheen of sweat to drip down her back despite the cold. “I am Ailsa, daughter of Ledger, Jarl of Drakame.” She sucked a breath which felt more like a shiver. “Who are you?”
The man’s gloved fingers stretched then flexed, his shoulders rose with an impatient sigh that made her take an involuntary step back. He reached for his hood, sliding it back to reveal his face, his hair, hisslantedears.
Her eyes widened to absorb every detail. The man had hair like the wings of a raven, glossy and black as her darkest dreams. His eyes were a clear gold like they were formed by Freya’s tears, dripping a warmth that contrasted the chilling way he glared at her. There was a glow from his pale complexion that competed with the darkness surrounding him, skin that had never been marred nor burned, flawless and untouched. He rivaled only the sun with his glory, stole the light of the stars with his existence. The most dangerous thing about this man was not his power but his presence, a treacherous combination of contradictions that seduced before it destroyed.
“Odin’s fucking eye,” Erik mumbled.
“You’re…” she shuddered, suddenly awestruck by the man uncovered before her. “You’re an elfin.”
She was not terrified as he revealed himself, not as he had hoped. Instead, she seemed drawn, transfixed—her gaze on him fascinated. Despite the fact he had nearly smothered her kinsman in front of her, she stared in unashamed interest.
He assessed her in return with an equally critical eye. The woman named Ailsa, another daughter of his mark, was clearly not a warrior like her deceased family. She wore a tattered gown, a deep shade of red that flattered her olive warm skin. It hung on her thin body, exposing her thin frame composed mostly of bones and little muscle, her skin sinking in the hollow places and sharpening every edge of her body. Her hair was a dull shade of deep brown, unlike her family’s pale heads.
Raven feathers braided into each side of her skull and flowed down to her waist in soft waves. It was the only soft part about her, as her eyes were a fierce cerulean, reminding him of the sky before a storm. She had little paint on her face unlike the other men before him, only a thin black rim around her eyes and blood red on her lips.
This woman was not a warrior—but she was a fighter. There was a strength not in her flesh and bone but somewhere deep within her spirit. Her thin shoulders relaxed under his scrutiny despite the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She did not fear him, and something about her tempered approach made him even more irritated.
“You’re one of the fae,” she repeated.
“Yes,” he said. He made his way down the weathered steps, closing in on her. She planted her feet in the sandy earth, the unmovable meeting the unstoppable. “An astute observation, Jarl Ailsa.”
“Stop right there! Don’t go near her.” A man with bleached hair pointed his blade at Vali.
“And who’s going to stop me? Certainly not you, Lionheart.” Vali cocked his head at the heathen, pausing his advance only to stare him down. The man glanced at Ailsa wearing his concern plain on his face. Vali smiled, perceiving he cared for the woman. This would be all too easy.
He turned back to her. “I said what I meant. Hand over the Tether, and I will leave as quickly and quietly as I arrived. Do not, and I will destroy everything you see before you.”
Her stoic expression never faltered, but her hands fell to her chest, wrapping around a thin piece of metal. A ring. “Please,” she beseeched him, her voice so soft it tamed something violent in his blood. “Just tell me what thisTetherlooks like and I vow to you, I will find it.”
Vali thought for a moment, considering he had never personally seen the Tether with his eyes, only what he’d heard from the legends and the witches. It was one of the reasons he never described the Tether to the Ostmen, because he didn’t actually know himself—but they didn’t need to know that.
But he felt it. As soon as this woman stepped across the black sand, his flesh had all but begged him to get closer. Pulled him closer into her orbit as if she were a star. “Come here, heathen.”
“Sváss.” The chieftain at her side used a term for lovers like a threat. But she didn’t look at him, only strode toward Vali until she was so close, he could see her tremble. See her bleeding fingers fidget with the ring until it was coated in blood.
“Who’s ring is that? Your own?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “It was my mother’s. And her mother before her. It’s been in my family for generations.”
Something must have sparked awareness in Vali’s eyes, because the woman flinched and took a guarded step back. Clutching the ring until it was hidden from his sight. He matched her retreat with a single stride, keeping the distance between them to a minimum. “Give it to me,” Vali said.
“No!” she shrieked. “This is all I have left of my family. You will not take this from me as well!”
“Yourfamilystole this power from the gods, and now it’s time to give it back,” Vali said. It wasn’t the woman who pulled him, it was the ring inside her fist. It had to be.
“Just give it to him, Ailsa!” The chieftain to his left threw his arms up in exasperation. “Do not be selfish like your father and keep what is not yours. If he wants the ring, then let him have it.”