I yanked my boots on and stood up fast. The scales on my arm caught the weak light coming through the window and flashed like fresh steel. Gunnar was already buckling his sword belt, movements sharp and practiced. No long speeches. No bullshit pep talk. Just the two of us in that small room with the bond humming between us like it knew what was coming.
"Grab your cloak," he said. "And the spare dagger. You're not going out there with nothing but claws."
I snatched the black cloak from the chair and slung it over my shoulders. The fabric smelled like smoke and him. Good. "I've got claws that can crack the ground, Gunnar. I think I'll manage."
He looked at me then, silver eyes hard but the corner of his mouth twitched. "You'll manage better with steel in your hand too." He tossed me the dagger. I caught it and slid it into my belt. The weight felt right.
We stepped out into the corridor. Matthías was already waiting, armor strapped tight, face set like he'd been born for days like this. Sunna stood beside him, dagger on one hip, a small pack on the other. Nina leaned against the wall sharpening a blade, the scrape of stone on steel the only sound for a second.
"Twenty riders ready," Matthías said. "The rest hold the keep. Scouts say the elders are pushing hard. That chained thing they're dragging smells like death and old magic."
Gunnar nodded once. "We meet them before they reach the outer ridge. No waiting for them to knock on our door." He glanced at me. "You ride with me. Stay close."
I didn't argue. The bond pulled tight in my chest every time he looked at me now. After last night; after that kiss and the way his hand had stayed on my stomach like he was already anchoring the storm inside me, it felt stronger. Less like a chain. More like a lifeline.
We walked fast through the courtyard. Warriors were saddling horses, checking weapons, voices low and grim. The sun sat high and bright, noon sharp as a knife edge. I swung up behind Gunnar on his big black horse and wrapped my arms around his waist. His back was solid under my hands. The pine-and-smoke smell hit me again and the fire in my chest settled a notch. Not gone. Just steady.
We rode out the main gate at a trot that turned into a hard gallop once we cleared the trees. Twenty of us. Not an army. But enough to hurt them before they hurt us. The wind whipped my hair back and I pressed my cheek to Gunnar's shoulder, feeling the bond thrum with every stride.
Sunna rode up on my left after a mile. "You good?" she asked, voice low enough the wind almost stole it.
"Better than yesterday," I said. "The scales don't itch as bad when he's this close."
She gave a quick grin. "Merja would be proud. Or terrified. Probably both."
We pushed the horses hard for the next two hours. The land changed from thick pines to rocky hills that rolled toward the border river. My thighs burned from gripping the saddle but I didn't complain. Every mile took us closer to Jakob and the Black Council and whatever the hell they were dragging in chains.
Gunnar slowed when the scout came galloping back. The man's horse was lathered, eyes wide. "They're two ridges over. Three hundred at least. Elders in the center. And that chained thing… it's big. Bigger than a bear. Covered in black cloth. Growls like it wants to eat the world."
Gunnar's body tensed under my hands. "We crest the next ridge and form up. No charge until I say. Elva, you stay behind the line unless that power wakes up screaming."
I squeezed his sides. "I'm not hiding anymore, remember?"
His hand came back and gripped my thigh once, hard. "Not hiding. Smart. There's a difference."
* ** * * * * * * *
We topped the ridge and the sight hit me like a punch. The valley below was crawling with wolves. Three hundred easy. Maybe more. Black and green banners snapped in the wind.
The Black Council rode in a tight circle in the middle, green light flickering around their hands. And at the very center, dragged by heavy chains between two wagons, was the thing. Tall as a horse, wider, covered in thick black cloth that shifted like it was alive. Low growls rolled out from under it every few seconds. The sound crawled down my spine and made the scales on my arm ripple.
Jakob rode at the front. I spotted him easy, his silver hair and the same posture I used to see at pack meetings. He looked smaller from up here. Or maybe I'd just grown.
Gunnar reined in. Our riders spread out along the ridge, weapons ready. The wind carried the enemy's voices up to us. Orders. Howls. The clank of those chains.
"Parley first," Gunnar said. "I want them to see her. See what they're really up against."
He nudged the horse forward. I sat straight behind him, cloak thrown back so the scales on my arm caught the sun. Sunna and Matthías flanked us. Nina stayed on the ridge with half the riders, crossbow ready.
We rode down slow. The enemy line shifted. Wolves growled. The elders' green light brightened. Jakob spurred his horse out to meet us, face twisted with something between hate and fear.
"Elva," he called when we were thirty yards apart. "Last chance. Come back with me. The Council can bind that curse before it destroys you."
I laughed. It came out sharp and real. "Curse? This is what you tried to bury in a cell, Dad. Look at it now." I lifted my right arm. The silver scales gleamed. A couple of the nearest wolves whined and backed up a step.
One of the elders; a tall man with a white beard and eyes like dead coals rode forward beside Jakob. "The girl is ours by old law. Hand her over, Sigurdsson, and we leave your keep standing."
Gunnar's voice carried easy. "She's mine by moon law. And she stays."
The elder smiled thin. "Then we take her."
He raised one hand. Green lightning crackled between his fingers. The thing in chains roared louder. The cloth covering it bulged and strained.
My chest flared hot. The fire woke up fast, pushing against my ribs. I felt the ground under us tremble just a little. Roots stirred deep down, waiting for me to let them out. Gunnar's hand found mine on his waist and squeezed. The bond steadied me like cool water on the flame. Not gone. Controlled.
"Not yet," he muttered over his shoulder. "Let them make the first mistake."
Jakob looked at me like I was already dead. "You don't understand what that power is. It'll eat you alive. The Council has ways to—"
"Shut the fuck up," I cut in. "You had your say the night you let Sveinn spit on me. Now it's my turn."
The elder didn't wait. He immediately flicked his wrist and green lightning shot straight at us.