Mother was pleased to have a tent to herself. She had made it very clear that she had no intention of listening to Falla and Lief rutting like dogs anywhere near her. So they had their own tent, and for Mother, the company of the raven and the storm.

She was oblivious to the flapping tent and the howling wind, though.

Her eyes were on the symbols she was scratching into the dirt at her feet.

The fire she crouched near was seething, flames blowing angrily in all directions. It was hard to see, though she had lit lamps, placing them around the outside of the circle she’d cast.

A circle of power.

The idea that dreamers worked best in threes was just a myth. Powerful dreamers were more effective by themselves.

Powerful dreamers needed little but their own minds and talent. Their own blood too.

Mother finished the last symbol, staring at her efforts, shivering in anticipation. Kneeling on the dirt, she moved the tiny copper bowl closer to the flames. And turning her palm over, she nicked her skin, slicing quickly, watching blood beading like rubies.

Closing her eyes, Mother called to Alari, feeling her approval, that familiar dark voice humming in her ears as she leaned over the bowl, squeezing her hand, watching the blood flow.

Her night would be long, but she welcomed it. There was so much to achieve.

Stina couldn’t sleep.

The bed was almost comfortable, and the cottage was far warmer than the barn they had started out in. There was no Ilene tonight. She appeared to be spending her nights with Amir, which had made the women in the cottage quite grateful to the Kalmeran warrior.

But Stina couldn’t sleep because in the silence, waiting for her, were the memories of what Torvig had done.

She knew she should tell Alys, but she felt foolish. Embarrassed.

If they could just survive the coming battle, then the Vilanders would take them all back to Ullaberg, and she would never have to think about Torvig Aleksen again.

The cottage had two chambers. She shared the main room with Ilene. Jorunn and Vanya shared the bedchamber. To keep the warmth in, that door was closed, so neither woman heard the cottage door creak open.

Stina did, but she hadn’t even propped herself up before the hand was over her mouth and Torvig was dragging her out of bed. She tried to fight him off, but all of her focus was suddenly on removing his hand because it was over her nose too and she couldn’t breathe.

Torvig lifted his knife to her throat. ‘You have a choice,’ he hissed in Stina’s ear. ‘Scream, talk, make any noise, and I’ll cut your throat open. Come quietly, and you’ll not be troubled at all. In fact, I’ve a feeling you’ll enjoy yourself more than you realise.’

Tears sprang in Stina’s eyes, and she nodded quickly, ears ringing, just wanting to breathe.

Removing his sweaty hand, Torvig watched as she sucked in a frantic breath, keeping the knife at her throat. ‘Not a word, now, my lovely. Not a word.’

And taking Stina’s hand in his, he led her out of the cottage.

Reinar lay on the bed, staring at the blackened rafters. Garlands of fir and dried lavender hung from them in great loops, blowing gently in the cold draft. That had been Elin’s idea. He grinned. ‘To give me something to look

at when you’re humping me,’ she’d said, enjoying the look of horror on his face.

Alys’ face drifted into Reinar’s mind, and he felt confused. Guilty and sad.

He remembered watching her fly through the air, smacking into the tree, worried that she was dead; seeing her on board Dagger for the first time, tattered green dress, bruised face, hair swept behind her in golden waves.

He didn’t know Alys, though, not like he knew Elin.

And Elin would come back to him once she found out the curse was lifted. Once she knew that the gods still favoured him, she would return, and they would try for another child. She would be happy when she was back home with him.

Closing his eyes, Reinar rubbed his feet together, trying to warm them up, seeing his wife’s face.

Hoping to find her in his dreams.

Alys knew she should be sleeping, but the noise of the wind was so loud and mournful that she found it impossible to relax, and eventually, she wrapped the bed fur around her shoulders, disturbing the cat as she headed to sit by the fire to read.

She thought of Eddeth and her teas, deciding to visit her in the morning and ask for some herbs. Eddeth’s teas were warming and calming, and likely she would know just the right combination to aid her sleep.

The vellum page she was studying had been wet at some stage, for the words had blurred, making it hard to distinguish each letter. Or perhaps it was her eyes, Alys thought, squinting, running a finger under one line, frowning. Nothing was making any sense.

The door rattled, and turning to it, Alys shivered.

She glanced back at Winter, who was not purring. He was staring at the door too.

Hairs on the back of her neck rising, Alys put down the book and picked up the poker, dropping the fur back on the bed as she crept towards the door. Moving the poker into her left hand, she slid the bolt with her right, swinging the door open, hoping it was just the wind.

Breath trapped in her chest, Alys stepped outside, into the square, listening to the rustling leaves on the giant tree. It was mostly evergreen, though the leaves appeared half-frozen, rubbing against each other with vigour in the furious wind, threatening to blow away.

She glanced to her right, listening, but apart from two guards shivering by the inner gates, no one was there.

‘Are you alright?’

Yelping in surprise, Alys dropped the poker on Ludo’s foot. She hopped backwards, banging into the cottage door, arms out in surprise.

‘I’m sorry!’ Guilt and pain contorted Ludo’s face as he helped Alys inside. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. What were you doing outside with a poker?’

Alys shook her head, feeling silly. ‘I thought I heard something. Are you alright?’

Ludo laughed, sitting down on a stool, feeling his foot through his boot. ‘Might be. Nothing feels broken, though, just a little sore.’

‘I’m so sorry. Why were you lurking outside my door?’

‘I had an odd feeling, like a nightmare. Thought I’d check the ramparts, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. No wolves skulking about.’ He frowned, that odd feeling lingering. ‘Have you spoken to Stina lately?’ He realised that Stina was definitely part of that odd feeling.

‘Stina? Is something wrong with her?’ Alys’ attention had been so fractured that she’d barely been able to focus her thoughts for long, and certainly not on her friend. But something was wrong. She’d seen it in Stina’s eyes.

Ludo shrugged. ‘I don’t know her, so I couldn’t say. She’s very helpful, works hard, leads the other women, but there’s just something about her. She seemed different before, I think. Though,’ he admitted, hands in the air, ‘what would I know?’ He couldn’t stop seeing Stina’s sad face, though, wondering what he was missing. ‘I imagine she just doesn’t like being a prisoner.’ Ludo shook his head, realising how ridiculous that sounded. ‘Of course she doesn’t like being a prisoner!’

‘What are you doing?’ Sigurd stood in the doorway, one hand on the door which had been banging against the cottage. Bringing it in, he stepped inside, looking from one to the other. ‘What’s happened?’ He saw the distress in Alys’ eyes; Ludo with his boot off now, hands on his foot. ‘Are you alright?’

Ludo grinned. ‘Fine. Alys just thought I was some evil spirit lurking outside her door. She dropped the poker on my foot.’

Sigurd laughed, eyes on Alys. ‘So when you’re not getting injured, you’re injuring others?’

Alys looked sheepish.

‘What are you doing here?’ Ludo wondered. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘That seems to be going around tonight,’ Alys said. ‘Neither could we.’ ‘Well, if you have some ale or wine, we could sit around, keep each

other company for a while?’ Sigurd suggested, glancing at Ludo, who looked happy enough, though his foot was throbbing. ‘Unless you’re too tired?’ He turned back to Alys, eyebrows raised.

‘No, company would be nice. And there’s some wine in the jug.’

Sigurd nodded, heading to the table, where he poured the wine into three cups, relieved to be out of the bone-chilling wind. He could almost feel Hakon Vettel breathing down their necks now, and the thought of it had his mind whirring. Sleep would not come for him in that state, he knew, even with Tulia’s naked body beside him. So handing one cup to Alys, Sigurd smiled. ‘What should we talk about then, Alys the dreamer?’

Stina hated everything he was doing to her.

Her back was wet, rubbing against the stinking straw as Torvig grunted over her. Sometimes he stopped, bending down to jam his hand over her mouth, holding it there until her eyes bulged with panic.

Stina tried to drift away, to exist outside it all, as though she was not even present. She thought of Ullaberg’s beach; the sound of the waves. Those gentle, rhythmic waves would soothe her to sleep at night. She could hear them through her window.

She tried not to panic, knowing that, eventually, he would finish and take her back to her cottage, wanting no one to discover what he’d done. Though it was hard not to panic when Torvig wrapped his hands around her throat.

In his dream, Reinar was on the beach at Ullaberg, watching his men rush the women, dragging them away from their families; their husbands charging at them, many unarmed, half asleep. They stood no chance. Not against men with swords and axes, shields protecting their chests, archers at their backs.

He wasn’t sure that he’d noticed Alys before, but she turned around, blonde hair swirling around her face. And he heard Salma’s soft voice.

‘Your new dreamer will come, do not fear, Reinar. I have seen her, and she is beautiful. Pale skin, dappled with freckles. A green dress…’ Salma had stopped, gasping for her last breaths. ‘She wears a green dress.’ She frowned, fading eyes suddenly sad. ‘And bruises, old and new, the poor girl…’

Reinar heard her voice and then Alys’ as she spun towards him, hand out. ‘Run!’ she yelled, trying to make herself heard. ‘Reinar! Run!’

At first, the wine had just been to make them feel more relaxed, but after one cup, no one had felt tired at all. And as there was nothing to eat and the storm was raging outside, Sigurd poured another round. And then another.

Which did Ludo in. His head drooped onto his chest, empty cup still in his hand.

Sigurd and Alys stared at him, wondering if they should wake him up. ‘But he looks so content,’ Alys grinned, head spinning. ‘Like a boy in a

giant’s body.’

Sigurd snorted. ‘Sounds like Ludo all over! I think he was that size when he arrived in Ottby! But he was only a boy. Not a hair on his face!’ He leaned towards Alys, knocking his cup into hers, noticing a strange look in her eyes. ‘What is it?’

Alys felt odd, as though beetles were crawling beneath her skin.

Ice-cold, frozen beetles, leaving trails of shivers she couldn’t shake. ‘I don’t know. Something.’

Sigurd was quickly on his feet, wobbling, bumping into Ludo, who jerked up, brandishing his cup, nearly tipping into the fire.

‘What? What?’ And jumping away from the flames, he yelped, forgetting all about his injured foot. Turning to Sigurd, who was at the door,

he tried to wake himself up. ‘Alys heard something.’

‘Not heard something… I think I felt it.’ She put her cup on the floor, regretting having had so much to drink. Now her mind was hazy, and her senses dulled. Trying to stand, she nearly fell over Winter as she headed to the door.

The three of them stepped into the square, Ludo limping, ushering Alys ahead of him, Sigurd in front of them.

They were quiet, listening, each one of them experiencing an odd sensation.

The storm blew past, a dog howled in the distance. But nothing else.

Sigurd turned around. ‘I think we need some sleep!’

Ludo listened, but he couldn’t hear or feel anything except the demanding pain in his foot. ‘I think we do.’

Alys’ throat was suddenly tight, and she lifted a hand to her neck, struggling to breathe.

‘Alys?’ Sigurd turned back to her.

‘Can’t… breathe,’ Alys gasped, leaning against Ludo. She tried coughing, shaking her head. Her lungs hurt as she tried to drag in a breath, but they felt as though there was nothing to give, and she started to panic, eyes bursting open, hands at her neck.

Sigurd felt himself panicking too. ‘Ludo, take her back inside! We need to give her something to drink!’

Alys pushed Ludo away, stumbling, hurrying towards the tree, trying to listen, certain she could hear voices. But she couldn’t think, couldn’t find the answer.

No air would come.

She couldn’t think at all!

Everything started spinning, and she stumbled, Sigurd and Ludo grabbing her before she could fall.

They hurried her back into the cottage, sitting her on the bed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alys saw Eddeth’s symbol stone, and she grabbed it, holding it in her right hand. And suddenly, face red, eyes popping open in terror, she could breathe again.

Panting, she drew air into her lungs, wanting to feel ice cold rain on her face.

Sigurd was on his knees before her. ‘Are you alright? Alys?’ Ludo had filled a cup with water, and he handed it to her. ‘Drink.’

Alys felt light-headed. She was trembling, shaking her head, not wanting water. Just air. She just wanted air.

‘What was it?’ Sigurd’s eyes were just as frantic. ‘You couldn’t breathe.’

‘I don’t… know.’ Alys leaned over, throat aching. ‘I don’t know what happened.’

Sigurd glanced at Ludo, who left the cup on a stool and came back to Alys. ‘What about some air?’

Alys lifted her head, nodding, still gripping the stone, and taking Sigurd’s hand, she rose to her feet.

‘Are you alright?’ Sigurd asked, peering at her as he led her outside. ‘Alright to walk?’

‘I think so.’ Flashes of panic threatened to undo her resolve to go outside again, but Alys took a deep breath and followed Ludo out into the square.

The wind lifted her dress, rushing past her with icy fingers. She shivered, embracing it, closing her eyes, mouth open, sucking in breaths of frigid air, shivering all over.

Sigurd watched her, frowning, feeling her hand trembling in his, wondering what had happened.

Mother sat in the corner of the tent, eyes on her raven.

His eyes were black, deep pits, blinking often.

She was lost, filled with rage, her body thrumming with anger, fists in balls as she remained motionless in the dark corner, watching the raven.

Reinar Vilander’s dreamer was a troublesome bitch. A nuisance of a problem.

Yet there were always solutions.

Oh yes, she smiled, watching the raven, who squawked at her, blinking some more.

There were always solutions.

‌ 2‌

The morning dawned fine, snowless, and everyone rushed around the fort as though their lives depended on it.

Which they did.

If Alys’ vision about Hakon Vettel departing Slussfall had been correct, then they had two or three days before his army was lined up across the field, eyes on the outer gates.

Despite the lingering frost and the bitter cold, everyone was out early, wanting to use every moment of daylight to finish their preparations.

There was an urgency which was understandable, but after his odd night, Sigurd felt unsettled, moving slowly through the fort. His leg was aching, his back too. He felt like going back to bed. His brother, though, had woken before dawn, running around as though he was being chased by Ulura herself.

‘Reinar!’ Sigurd grabbed his arm, forcing him around. ‘You’re not listening!’

‘To you? About what?’ Reinar’s eyes hopped straight past his brother to where Torvig and Bolli were dragging stakes through the square towards the bridge gates. ‘You must hurry!’ he called, panic in his eyes, wanting to urge his friends on.

‘Why?’ Sigurd didn’t understand. ‘They can’t come faster than six days. They’d be running, not stopping for the night. They’d have no siege towers. No catapults.’

Reinar looked straight through him. ‘Why aren’t you helping Tulia? Is something wrong?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, though, striding past Sigurd to Bjarni, who appeared to be almost running into the guard tower.

‘I feel as though I’m still in a dream,’ Ludo yawned, stopping beside Sigurd. ‘Gerda’s in tears, panicking in the kitchen. Agnette’s out of bed, shooing the servants around, certain her baby’s going to come when Hakon Vettel’s attacking us.’ He looked puzzled. ‘I thought it was supposed to be different now the curse is lifted?’

‘Well, we still don’t have enough men. Our stores are still low. Stellan’s still not there, and Agnette looks ready to pop, so it seems the curse wasn’t our only worry!’ And seeing Alys heading towards them, Sigurd grinned. ‘Did you manage to get some sleep in the end?’ he asked, staring at her neck, frowning suddenly.

‘What?’ Alys looked from Sigurd to Ludo, who blinked in horror. ‘Your neck is bruised, Alys,’ Ludo breathed. ‘Badly bruised.’

Alys didn’t believe him, certain he was making fun of how many bruises she’d collected since arriving in Ottby. She touched her neck, not feeling anything.

Sigurd looked disturbed. ‘It is, Alys. You couldn’t breathe last night, remember?’

Alys did; it had been terrifying. ‘That’s strange. It doesn’t feel sore.’

Neither man spoke. They felt unsettled, even Sigurd, who would have usually laughed it all off.

Reinar stopped beside his brother, staring at Alys. ‘What’s going on?’ He looked from one serious face to the next, gasping as Alys removed her hands from her neck, quickly angry. ‘Who did that to you?’ He turned back to Sigurd and Ludo.

Sigurd held up his hands. ‘Don’t look at us, Brother. Alys couldn’t breathe last night.’

‘Last night? What do you mean, last night?’

Things were getting more complicated by the moment, and Alys felt the need to see Eddeth right away, wanting to know what had happened to her neck. She turned to leave, banging into Ludo, who put all his weight down on his injured foot, hopping in the air with a yelp, knocking Alys into Reinar, who grabbed her.

‘What happened to you?’ Reinar wondered, eyes on a grimacing Ludo. Alys looked embarrassed.

Ludo and Sigurd burst out laughing, both of them hobbling, leaning on each other.

Reinar didn’t understand.

‘I dropped a poker on Ludo’s foot,’ Alys explained. ‘He gave me a fright. We spent the night talking after that, didn’t we?’ She smiled at Ludo and Sigurd. It had been enjoyable for a time. Comforting not to be alone.

‘All of you?’

The two men nodded.

‘But you didn’t see who did that to Alys’ neck?’

‘No, but you couldn’t breathe, could you?’ Ludo said, not laughing now. ‘No, it was as if someone was choking me.’ Alys shivered, wondering

what had happened. ‘I need to see Eddeth. She might know something.’ ‘I’ll take you,’ Reinar offered quickly, arm still around Alys’ back. ‘At

this rate, you’ll be no use at all soon!’ It was meant as a joke, but Alys could hear the tension in his voice as he walked her across the square, feeling the warmth of his arm touching her back.

Hakon was thrilled by the smile that brightened Mother’s round face as she emerged from her tent. ‘You had a good night, then? A useful dream or two?’

Mother cackled as she stepped around the fire towards him, gratefully taking the cup he offered her. ‘I did indeed. I anticipate a very productive day!’

‘You do?’

Mother helped herself to one of Hakon’s chairs, ignoring Ivan, who slouched beside his cousin, eating a rolled-up hot cake dripping with honey. Her own stomach rumbled, and she felt ravenous. Magic work tended to drain her. Such powerful spells sapped her energy like a demanding newborn on a tit. And despite her frustration with Reinar Vilander’s girl dreamer, she felt a lift.

A sense of optimism about the day.

Hakon’s servants fussed around their lord, adding more branches to the fire, offering their master the jug of small ale and a plate of eggs. But Hakon had had enough, and he was far more intrigued by what Mother had to say than any food. She seemed to have a secret, though she did not look inclined to share.

Ivan’s eyes were on Falla, who appeared to be arguing with her husband in the distance. The snow was sweeping in again, and everyone’s tempers were fraying. Travelling in winter was always a challenge, but taking the catapults and siege towers over the mountains from Slussfall had been tedious. Nobody was smiling, except for the grunting old woman who sat next to him, threatening to break the chair she had squeezed into.

Mother poked a finger at Ivan. ‘Is there no better use of your time than sitting there drooling over my daughter-in-law? Have you nothing else to be getting on with?’

Hakon laughed, nudging his cousin, who looked irritated, which was new for Ivan. Mother had certainly touched a raw nerve there.

‘I have no need to rush anywhere, Mother,’ Ivan purred, smiling sweetly at the dreamer. ‘My men know their tasks, as you can see.’ And he swept an arm across the vast swathe of snow-covered men who were dousing fires and packing tents; rolling furs and strapping on armour; stamping ice from their boots as they checked the sky, which looked grim indeed. ‘Everything is perfectly under control, wouldn’t you say, Cousin?’

Hakon nodded. Everything was running smoothly, and he had no reason to find fault with Ivan at all. And nor would he. His cousin’s presence was a comfort and a pleasure, and he would never think of replacing him, no matter how much his dreamer disliked him. ‘I would. You stay where you are, Ivan. Enjoy the view!’ And ignoring Mother’s scowl, Hakon pressed her for more information. ‘What did you see in your dreams last night?’

‘An old friend,’ was all she would say, quickly gobbling up the hotcakes Hakon’s servant handed her. ‘A very welcome old friend.’

Reinar stared at Alys as she made herself comfortable on one of Eddeth’s rough tree stumps, which wasn’t comfortable at all. ‘You’re sure no one did this to you? Someone must have, Alys. You didn’t do it to yourself.’

Eddeth shooed Reinar towards the door. Her cottage suddenly felt full with him towering inside it, stooped over, trying to avoid brushing his head against the drying herbs she’d strung between the rafters. ‘Best you go now. Go! Go!’

Reinar looked annoyed, ready to argue, but he had to get back to the square, and Eddeth had a look in her eye he knew well, so he nodded. ‘I’ll come back for you shortly. I want to hear what you discover.’ And ducking underneath the bags of rosemary and hyssop dangling from the lintel, Reinar disappeared outside.

‘That man!’ Eddeth sighed. ‘Like a boulder. Can’t shift him!’ She was distracted for a moment, staring at the door, trying to remember what she’d been about to do, then spinning around, she saw Alys.

And Alys’ neck.

It was a mystery, and Eddeth shivered with excitement, eager to begin. ‘What do you think happened?’ Alys wondered, listening to the rasp of

her voice. Tiredness, she’d initially thought. Or too much wine. But now she realised that her throat felt raw. It was becoming painful to swallow.

Eddeth sat before her, pushing away Rigfuss, who had his paws on her leg, looking to be lifted up. ‘Something I’ve never seen before. A dream come to life! Not just a vision like that wolf, not a trick of the mind, but real. Flesh and hands and strangling!’ She gently touched the marks on Alys’ neck. ‘Someone was trying to kill you!’

Alys froze, thinking of the wolf. ‘Perhaps the dreamer who made the waking nightmare?’

‘Could be. But you have your protection stone. I’m not sure she could hurt you if she tried. My symbols have never been wrong before!’ Eddeth cocked her head to one side. ‘Unless it was just a warning? If the dreamer knows you stopped her nightmare and her curse, which, being a dreamer, I imagine she does… perhaps she’s threatening you?’ Popping a walnut into her mouth, she crunched loudly, mouth open, eyes fixed on Alys. ‘Warning you of what will happen if you come between her and her magic, perhaps?’

Alys touched her neck. ‘But if she can bruise my skin? Try to kill me?’ She felt sick. ‘How can we stop her, Eddeth?’ She remembered the sensation of not being able to breathe more acutely now. ‘I thought I was going to die.’

Eddeth swallowed the walnut, gnawing a dirty fingernail. ‘Well, we shall have to get serious, Alys. Serious indeed.’ She ripped off the nail, twitching her nose. ‘It’s time to open up my secret chest!’

Ludo had found it impossible to concentrate.

He had positioned the catapults around the square, and was working with his group of women to ensure that everything the crews would need was to hand. The constant blustering wind had wreaked havoc across the fort, and he’d had the women out gathering rocks, weighing everything down, for despite the momentarily clear sky, Ludo was certain there’d be another storm before long.

He frowned. ‘Where’s Stina? I don’t think I’ve seen her all morning.’ Jorunn and Vanya had their heads together, gossiping about Ilene and

Amir, which seemed to be the topic of conversation passing through the various groups of Ullaberg women that morning. Ilene was already acting like a lady, as though she was better than any of them, and Jorunn and Vanya had eagerly shared the news with Ludo that Ilene’s bed had remained untouched all night long.

‘Stina was gone when we woke up,’ Jorunn said, wiping her dripping nose with a cloth. ‘But she’s always been an early bird, that one. Likes to walk every morning. Perhaps she just got lost?’

Ludo frowned. ‘In the fort? I don’t think it’s that big.’

‘But the gates were open early today,’ Vanya put in. ‘Maybe she went into the forest?’

Ludo stared at the inner gates, where two of his friends had their heads together. ‘Alright, well, I’ll go and see where’s she gotten to. You take charge, Jorunn.’ And smiling at the older of the two women, Ludo strode away.

Vanya nudged Jorunn, and they both turned to watch him go. ‘Such long legs on that one,’ she smiled. ‘And such big hands too!’

Eddeth rubbed knitbone leaves on Alys’ neck, which was already turning all shades of purple and yellow. She felt distracted and impatient, for though she felt a duty to care for Alys, her mind was jumping in all directions, eager to get on with solving the mystery.

So leaving Alys on her tree stump with a promise to find the right salve before Reinar returned, she headed for the tiny iron chest she had placed on the bed. It was more of a box really, secured with an enormous rusty

padlock. Symbols were inscribed around the edges, tiny and indecipherable for most, but not for Eddeth. ‘This was my grandmother’s,’ she breathed, unlocking the box with a key she’d retrieved from her purse. Lifting the lid with a squeak of excitement, she inhaled a mouthful of dust and immediately started coughing. Barking like a dog, she shut the box, hurrying back to her feet, desperately searching for water.

‘What’s in it?’ Alys wondered when she returned.

‘Conversations!’ Eddeth announced dramatically, opening the box again, revealing a linen package. The linen was a patchy yellow colour, almost in pieces as she placed it on the bed, gently unwrapping it. ‘A book of conversations!’

Alys looked confused, but Eddeth didn’t notice as she removed the thin book from its ancient shroud. ‘Conversations with who?’

‘The gods,’ Eddeth breathed, turning to Alys. ‘My grandmother talked to Valera herself, and she wrote down everything that goddess said!’ Eyes wide, she carefully opened the cover, inhaling the fusty smell of the old book. ‘History! Everything we need to know lives in history!’ She jerked her head towards Alys. ‘Don’t you agree?’

Alys blinked. ‘I…’ She shrugged. ‘I hope so, Eddeth.’

‘Now, you stay there and let me read. It’s very hard to understand, this book. I’ve not read it for many a year, but I’ll find my way through it, don’t you worry. And then we’ll know where we are, won’t we?’ She bent her head low, hair trembling, body vibrating with excitement.

Alys looked from Eddeth to the door, wanting to leave. Certain she was in the wrong place.

Hoping Reinar would return soon.

Reinar made his way through the outer gates, where Torvig was supervising the men preparing the field. If Hakon Vettel intended to bring his army across that field, they were determined to make it as unpleasant as possible.

Torvig straightened up with a grin. ‘Getting there,’ he said, pleased with the look of the field, littered with holes, nails and troughs as it was. ‘Wouldn’t you say?’

Reinar’s frown wouldn’t budge. He turned around, his attention moving to the walls behind him, then the gates. ‘We don’t know what they’re bringing.’

‘No, but we can guess. And we can only use what we have, what we can make in time.’ Torvig patted his friend on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. We may not have the men, but we have the walls. They’ve held all these years.’

That offered no comfort. Not anymore. Never did not mean ever.

Reinar nodded anyway. ‘Maybe add some more ship nails. Bang them through pieces of wood. Have them sticking out as spikes. Bolli can help you.’ He frowned, peering at the charred trees lying in the field, trying to imagine what his enemy could do with them. ‘I’ll check on you later.’ And distracted, Reinar headed back into the fort, across the square, eyes on Alys’ cottage door, wondering if Eddeth had found an answer to what had happened to her neck.

Ludo nearly knocked him over as he passed with Amir.

‘What’s happened?’ Reinar asked. ‘You’re running around like a chicken this morning.’

Ludo ducked his head, shoulders slumping. ‘I’ve lost one of the women.’

‘What?’ Reinar was incredulous. ‘How? Who?’ Though he didn’t really know any of the women, he was hoping it wasn’t Ilene. His eyes went to Amir, who didn’t look as concerned as Ludo.

‘Her name is Stina. She’s Alys’ friend.’ ‘Oh. Have you checked the forest?’ ‘Briefly,’ Ludo said.

Reinar scratched his bearded chin, glancing around, seeing the women waiting for Amir in the training ring. ‘Well, grab your horse and do a proper search. Amir, you get on with things. Ludo, take a good look, but if she’s decided to run away, there’s little we can do now. I can’t afford to lose you for a whole day trying to hunt her down.’ He thought about Alys, who would likely be upset. ‘But try and find some sign of what happened to her.’

Ludo nodded, hurrying for the stables.

Reinar turned to see Amir heading for Ilene, eyes only for each other. He rolled his own eyes. ‘Training, Amir! Training!’ Any optimism he’d felt when they burned the cursed trees had been snuffed out by the cold reality of the day. Now the growing reminder that they were undermanned and

vulnerable to an enemy stronger than any they’d faced before nagged away at him.

And staring up at the sky, Reinar prayed for more snow.

Hakon wore fur-lined leather gloves, specially made for his thumbless hands. He struggled to grip the reins, and his gloves had rivets around the fingers and palm area, giving him some support.

They were warm too.

The rest of him was frozen solid, the snow blowing across them horizontally now, the path almost impossible to discern in the blizzard. It didn’t feel as though they’d left their camp that long ago, and yet the sky was almost dark, the clouds sinking lower and lower, touching the tips of the snow-covered trees they rode through.

Hakon turned in his saddle, jealous of Mother and Falla in their tiny wagon. How pleasant it would be not to feel that cold slap of wind across his face like an icy belt. He gritted his teeth as Ivan rode up behind him. ‘What happened?’ he called, turning away from the roaring wind.

‘Just a fight. Two idiots. I separated them. Nothing to worry about.’ Ivan’s eyes were almost hidden beneath the hood of his fur-trimmed black cloak. His beard was white with snow, his body trembling. ‘Not sure anyone’s enjoying the weather!’

‘Not everyone! But you’re still smiling, Cousin!’

‘Why not? We’re days away from the greatest victory of our lives. Ha! Can you imagine it? Us? Two idiots like us? Hakon and Ivan Vettel, the greatest warriors in Alekka? Soon they’ll be singing about us instead of Ake Bluefinn. Soon new sagas will be written about the Rise of the Vettels!’

‘The Return of the Vettels,’ Hakon decided, shivering. ‘For we will reclaim our rightful place in Stornas. Our place, as the gods have always willed it.’ He gripped the reins tightly, noticing a look in Ivan’s eyes, sensing him stiffen. ‘What?’

Ivan pointed into the blizzard. ‘Hard to tell, but I think someone’s coming.’

The weather had disintegrated quickly, though after a few good meals and some sleep, Magnus was feeling better, if not frozen solid. Vik had given him his bed fur to use as a cloak, and Jonas had tied it around Magnus with a length of rope. And though the wind flapped it away from him, it was big and furry, and he was grateful for it.

Vik rode at the front, Magnus in the middle, with Jonas bringing up the rear. They wanted to keep the worst of the weather from the boy, though the wind was changing direction with every blink of the eye, Jonas saw, watching Magnus’ fur flapping before him.

He had a profound sense of relief that they’d found him, and a growing fear for Lotta. If they were lucky enough to find her, Jonas believed they stood a good chance of getting her back, now that Vik was with them, but what would happen to her in the meantime? What would those men do to her? He tried not to imagine such things, gripping the reins tighter, missing Klippr.

Trying not to think about that too. Ahead, Vik stuck up a hand.

‘What is it?’ Jonas called, riding up to him. The snow was becoming blizzard-like now, and he could barely see more than white and grey shapes.

‘Someone’s coming!’

Hakon sent Ivan ahead to see who it was.

He felt on edge, struggling to discern anything more than shadows, the noise of the wind searing into his ears, making them ache, despite the thickness of his fur hood.

And then Ivan was back with a grin and Hakon could see clearly now. And he smiled.

‌It was an elk, moving slowly, snow-covered calf beside it, and Vik let them go, in no mood for killing. The day had barely begun, and if they were going to get through the mountains quickly, they had to plough on.‌

Jonas felt relieved, not wanting any more trouble. His arm wound was painful, the cut deeper than he’d realised, but he had no fear of it bleeding. Everything was frozen, including his lips as he tried to speak. The blizzard swirled loudly and unhelpfully around them, and Magnus’ pony was struggling in front of him. ‘Perhaps we tie her onto me, and you hop on here?’ Jonas called.

Magnus shook his head, not turning around. He didn’t want to leave Daisy alone. The weather was worse than anything he’d ridden in, and he imagined she was feeling scared. He didn’t want to leave her. ‘No!’

Jonas nodded. ‘Alright, but perhaps I’ll ride with you, just to keep her moving!’ His beard was thick with snow, and he ran a hand through it, brushing the wet flakes away. ‘We have to keep going. Slussfall is some distance, and these mountains will go on awhile.’

Magnus had guessed that. ‘We have to keep going!’ he called back, blinking. ‘We have to save Lotta!’ He could see Long Beard’s eyes in his mind. His crafty, mismatched eyes. His ragged hair and his crumpled, stubbly face. Scars and tattoos everywhere. A hard, hard man.

A hard, hard man with a little girl.

Magnus tapped Daisy with his boots, wanting to spur her on. They couldn’t stop now.

No one wanted to stop, and yet there was so much Hakon needed to know.

Trying to hear anything Ulrick Dyre said was almost impossible, though.

Still, he had been glad to see the man emerge from the blizzard on his horse; surprised to see him alone.

‘Ride with me!’ Hakon called. ‘We’ll speak when we can. I want to hear everything! Everything you’ve seen and heard!’

Ulrick nodded, giant fur cloak swathed around him, draped over his horse, hood covering most of his bearded face. He spun, hearing the shriek from behind him. It sounded like a flock of birds.

And seeing the wagon stutter to a halt, his eyes narrowed as Hakon’s old hag dreamer squeezed through the door, leaving it banging in the wind. ‘The girl! The girl! Bring me the girl!’

Hakon stared at Ivan, who looked confused, shrugging.

They both turned to Ulrick, who opened his thick cloak, revealing a blonde-haired little girl, blinking at them with terrified blue eyes.

Alys had been awake for most of the night, and the warmth of Eddeth’s fire was starting to make her sleepy. That and Eddeth’s throaty murmuring as she read, scraping her fingernail across the pages of her grandmother’s book. She hadn’t spoken in some time, and Alys found her heavy eyes closing, unable to stop them.

‘The gods!’ Eddeth announced suddenly, loudly, head up, turning to Alys. ‘The gods and the dreamers! I see it all so clearly now!’

Alys blinked, swallowing. ‘You do?’

‘The gods are just like us, you know. Loyal and scheming. Kind and malevolent. Just as we are.’

Alys shivered suddenly, watching Eddeth’s eyes narrow.

‘We think of them as parents, but they are children.’ Eddeth inhaled slowly, considering things. ‘They have favourites! They play games!’

‘Games?’

‘They like to be entertained, so why not?’

‘And what game are they playing now? With my neck? Is it a game?’

But Eddeth had returned to the book, lips pressed tightly together, one leg vibrating, fingernail scraping under the ancient scrawls again.

Alys tried to think as she sat there, watching the flames. She came from a long line of dreamers. Tuuran dreamers. Skilled women, trained in their craft. Alys felt like a disappointment to all of them. And though her gift was to see, she felt blind, unable to control her thoughts, to focus them in a particular direction.

Reaching a hand to her throat, she remembered how terrified she had felt, as though all the air was being sucked out of her body. And she thought of the wolf.

It made sense.

If Hakon Vettel’s dreamer had discovered her nightmare spell was broken…

Alys’ thoughts skipped ahead.

She had found the symbols on the trees, and with Eddeth’s help, they had hopefully broken the curse. So if the dreamer had placed that curse on Ottby, there was a very good chance she was trying to kill her.

The certainty of that flickered before her like an unsteady flame in a stiff breeze. Alys didn’t feel confident that she had found the answer. But what else could explain it?

What else could it be?

Ludo felt terrible.

Stina was part of his team of women. His responsibility. And he’d known that something was wrong for days. She had seemed oddly quiet. Sad. The other women had become happier, he thought, looking around, scanning the small groups working together, busy hands, heads together, talking. Despite the fear of what was coming, they had a real sense that soon they would be free to return to their homes, and their faces seemed brighter. Hope lived in their eyes again.

But it had not lived in Stina’s.

‘Don’t blame yourself,’ Bjarni tried, offering Ludo a sliver of salt pork. He was starving, but Gerda had shut down the hall kitchen, insisting that

they needed to ration their stores with greater vigour than ever if they were about to be besieged. He sighed at the thought of it, hoping Agnette would ferret away some food for him. ‘You can’t watch them all the time.’

‘No.’ Ludo’s guilt didn’t ease. ‘I’ll have to go and tell Alys.’

‘You look like you’re about to cry!’ Torvig laughed, arms loaded with wood as he stopped beside them, peering at Ludo. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’ve lost one of the women.’

‘Lost? They’re not boots!’ Torvig sniggered. ‘How do you lose a woman? You mean she’s run away?’ He frowned, not seeing Stina with the rest of Ludo’s group.

‘I suppose she has,’ Ludo admitted, edging away from Torvig. ‘I’ll go find Alys, tell her what’s happened.’ And turning away, he headed across the square.

‘Why do you have to make everything worse?’ Bjarni grumbled. He’d run out of patience with Torvig. The man was always niggling, never truly helping. He wished he’d never returned to Ottby.

‘Worse?’ Torvig eyed him, anger flaring. ‘You think we’d be better off with you by Reinar’s side? Like you always wanted? Ha! But you never were any use, Bjarni Sansgard. I know it, and Reinar knew it, which is why he begged me to come back.’

Bjarni frowned, shoulders tight. ‘What?’

‘You didn’t know?’ Torvig leaned in closer, happy again. ‘Reinar asked me to come, said he needed help. My help. He begged me to return when Stellan took ill.’

Bjarni didn’t let his surprise show in his eyes. ‘Well, he was desperate, I suppose. We all were.’

Torvig licked his lips, eyes sharp. ‘You think you’re better than me?’

Bjarni looked confused. ‘Better?’ He laughed. ‘I don’t think anything about you at all, Torvig.’ And deciding to keep moving before he froze to the spot, he stepped around the seething man, heading for the gates.

A laugh drew Torvig’s attention to the training ring, and he watched Tulia clapping as her brother picked himself up from the ground, wooden sword broken in two. She turned, catching Torvig’s eyes, shivering at the cold look in them.

Sigurd stood beside her, yawning.

Tulia’s smile was gone in a flash. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have sat up all night, drinking with the dreamer?’

Sigurd nudged her. ‘No need to get jealous. Ludo was there.’ ‘Hmmm.’

Laughing, Sigurd turned back to the women. ‘Again!’ he cried. They each had a quiver strapped across their back, and he was trying to improve their speed now. Many could hit the targets, which was useful, but speed was needed to be truly effective on the ramparts. They couldn’t afford Hakon’s men having even a moment to think as they tried to climb the walls.

And they would.

‘Then we’ll try with fire arrows!’ He winked at Tulia, who was still stewing as she turned back to her own group of women with a scowl.

Sigurd’s amusement faded quickly, though, remembering the marks on Alys’ neck. He didn’t believe in magic or dreamers, but the wolf, and now those marks were both playing on his mind.

‘Well?’ Reinar wanted an explanation, but he couldn’t make any sense of Eddeth’s splutters. She had her back to him, crumbling dried herbs into cups, making a tea Reinar had insisted he didn’t want. ‘Eddeth?’

‘The gods are a mystery!’ she announced, not turning around.

Reinar glanced at Alys, who looked half-asleep, and just as bemused. ‘That may be so, but it’s not the question I asked. We need to know what happened to Alys. Is it a dreamer trying to kill her? Hakon’s dreamer?’ He felt deeply unsettled. The idea of the wolf was one thing – an illusion, a trick of the mind – but if the woman could reach into his fort and try to kill someone?

Reinar didn’t know what to think about that at all.

Eddeth poured boiling water over her herbs and returned the cauldron to its hook, joining Alys and Reinar by the fire while she waited for the tea to steep. Her attention was on the dance of the flames, her voice low. ‘The gods sprinkle the gift of dreams over those special few.’ There was a hint of resentment in her voice, and she coughed, clearing her throat. ‘Those dreamers are powerful, though not always knowledgable.’ Eddeth peered at Alys. ‘But some dreamers are helped by the gods themselves. Befriended.

They learn more than an elder can share. More than any temple holds in its scrolls, any citadel or library. Those dreamers learn the secrets of the gods!’

The fire popped, and Eddeth’s eyes rounded, as though she was seeing something neither Alys nor Reinar could.

‘How do you know that?’ Reinar wondered.

‘Conversations!’ Eddeth exclaimed loudly. ‘Conversations!’ And without even blinking, she left the fire, forgot all about the tea, and returned to her bed where she picked up her grandmother’s book.

Reinar’s shoulders slumped. Eddeth was half-mad, they all knew that. Days would go by where she was lucid, and it was easy to forget how she could be. But it was usually when you needed to know something with urgency that she would ramble incoherently, disappearing back into herself again. He held out a hand to Alys. ‘I’ll take you back to your cottage, if you like? Or maybe to the hall?’ ‘We can see if they found your friend.’

‘My friend?’ Alys stood quickly. ‘Stina? What’s happened to her?’

Winter was sitting outside a disused shed, peering through a gap in the wooden palings, and Ludo decided to investigate.

With more and more warriors and their families departing Ottby, worksheds, barns, and homes were being abandoned, left to cats and dogs and rodents, who were likely enjoying the freedom to roam. So Ludo didn’t imagine that anything other than a few mice would be making themselves at home in the shed. It was therefore a surprise when he pulled open the creaking door to reveal a swollen-eyed Stina.

She sat on a hay bale, staring at him in terror, before scrambling to her feet, shaking all over.

Ludo’s shoulders dropped in relief. ‘There you are!’ He stepped forward, stopping when Stina started moving away from him. He held up a hand. ‘I won’t hurt you, Stina, I promise. I was just… worried about you. Jorunn and Vanya didn’t know where you were. I didn’t know where you were.’

Stina hadn’t known what she was doing. The sun had risen, and she’d felt the terror of Jorunn and Vanya coming out of the bedchamber. She couldn’t face them. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. It felt as though

everyone could see inside her; that they could tell what had happened. But she didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t want to think about it at all.

‘It’s cold in here. Why don’t you come back to the square? They’re bringing out food. Some hot porridge, I think. Roasted apples too.’

Stina stared at Ludo’s encouraging face, not wanting food, not wanting company. Wishing he hadn’t found her. But there was nowhere to go, nothing else she could do. So, nodding, she stood, squeezing her hands together in front of her thin blue dress as she stepped towards him.

Agnette wished she felt ill again. It had been so quiet in her chamber with the door shut and Gerda’s voice humming in the distance. Now the hall sounded like a barn of bleating goats, and she was struggling to think.

Stellan didn’t appear to mind as he sat before her, staring blankly past Agnette’s shoulder as she trimmed his beard with a newly sharpened pair of scissors. Agnette smiled, remembering how long she had been trimming her uncle’s beard. Before she was ever a woman. Back when it had been blonde like Reinar’s. Now it was mostly grey, she thought, standing back to check her progress. Still a little fluffy, she decided, moving around to his right, pulling the hair away from his cheek, missing the sound of his voice.

Stellan Vilander was like a father to Agnette; her mother’s twin brother. Her own father had died before she could remember him, and Stellan had been a constant presence in her life. A reassuring one. A kind one. He didn’t deserve to spend the rest of his days like this.

‘Agnette!’ Ludo called, entering the hall, shaking snow flurries from his hair.

‘Yes?’ She didn’t turn around, Stellan’s hair perfectly positioned between two fingers.

‘Have you seen Alys?’ ‘No.’

Ludo turned to leave, not even tempted to stop by the fire to thaw out his hands for a moment. He was so distracted as he spun around that he banged into Alys, standing on her foot.

‘Aarrghh!’ Alys cried, stumbling backwards. Ludo blinked. ‘Sorry! I didn’t see you.’

‘We’re going to have to lock you in your cottage, just to keep you safe!’ Reinar laughed. He wondered if that was true, catching a glimpse of Alys’ neck again.

Alys grabbed hold of Ludo’s arm. ‘What’s happened to Stina? Is it Stina who’s missing?’

Ludo shook his head. ‘Not anymore. I couldn’t find her earlier, but she turned up in the end. My fault entirely.’

Agnette could hear snatches of their conversation, interspersed with Gerda’s yelling from the kitchen, and curious, she left Stellan covered in beard trimmings, wanting to find out what was going on. ‘You lost a woman? How is that possible?’

‘They’re not prisoners anymore, Agnette,’ Reinar reminded her. ‘Not really. We weren’t watching them as we had been.’

‘What happened to your neck?’ Agnette was horrified, her attention snapping to Alys, who felt self-conscious as everyone in the hall appeared to turn towards her.

She grabbed her neck, feeling heat rush up her body.

Reinar was eyeing the doors, leg jiggling. ‘I have to go and find Bjarni. Snow’s coming, and so is Hakon Vettel, so we don’t have long to prepare.’ And with one last look at Alys and her bruised neck, he headed out of the hall.

Agnette followed Alys and Ludo to a table, scissors in hand. ‘Who did that to your neck?’

Alys didn’t know how to explain it.

‘A dreamer,’ Ludo decided. ‘Sigurd and I were with Alys when it happened. She started choking, as though someone was strangling her. And the marks came this morning, didn’t they?’

Agnette was speechless. ‘And you saw no one? Was it…’ She lowered her voice. ‘Magic?’

Alys shrugged.

‘It was,’ Ludo said. ‘It was, Agnette. No one was there, but Alys couldn’t breathe. Someone was choking her. You can see that.’

‘But I thought the curse was lifted? I thought we were turning a corner?’ Agnette peered at Ludo as he struggled back to his feet. ‘And what’s wrong with you?’

‘I dropped a poker on his foot,’ Alys admitted guiltily.

Ludo smiled. ‘You did, but don’t worry, I can walk fine.’ Though his first few steps proved that that wasn’t entirely true. ‘Perhaps you can help me take some food out into the square? I want to make sure the women have a good breakfast.’

‘I’ll help you too,’ Agnette insisted, trying to push herself back onto her feet, but it was getting harder by the day.

‘Agnette!’ came the screech from the back of the hall. ‘You’ve left Stellan half-finished, covered in hair!’

Agnette sighed. ‘Well, perhaps I won’t. But do come back and tell me if you find out what happened to your neck. I’ll help if I can.’

Alys nodded, eager to leave, wanting to speak to Stina.

There was so much Hakon wanted to know, but the blizzard worsened, and there was no chance of even seeing, let alone talking, and so he ploughed on, driving his horse forward, Ulrick riding just behind him and Ivan, beside Lief.

The girl had been taken into the wagon by Mother, who seemed both delighted and unfazed by her arrival.

Falla remained confused as she sat opposite them, trying to warm up the little girl’s frozen hands. ‘How did you get here, then? All by yourself?’

‘The man st-st-stole me,’ Lotta mumbled. Falla stared at Mother, who ignored her.

‘Found you, don’t you mean? Saved you?’ Mother eyed the girl, who sat beside her, sullen and shaking. ‘Imagine if he hadn’t? Imagine if you and your brother had been left on your own? Think of what would have happened in this weather!’

Lotta couldn’t get away from the old woman. She was so wide that she took up most of the seat, and Lotta was wedged into the small space between Mother’s generous hips and the wall of the wagon. She swallowed, trying not to pull her hands away from the pretty, dark-haired woman sitting opposite them, next to the caged raven, which kept blinking at her.

But she wanted to.

‘Who is she?’ Falla wondered. ‘Why do you know about her?’

‘This one?’ Mother grinned, touching Lotta’s hair. ‘This one is a prize, aren’t you, girl? A prize and a weapon, both. And once we get ourselves settled for the night, we shall get to work!’

Falla released Lotta’s hands, and she retreated, trying to shrink into a ball, barely caring that she was out of the snow, away from Long Beard.

Very aware that she had just stepped into the mouth of the beast.

‌ 4‌

Alys stared at the fire, shivering.

She had tried to speak to Stina in the square, but the snow had come, and Ludo had ushered the women into the hall, much to Gerda’s annoyance. Alys, needing to think, had not followed them. Instead, she had been drawn back to her cottage, and her fire and the silence, which she hoped would bring some clarity to her muddled thoughts.

She saw visions often, more than she’d ever welcomed before. Usually, she would have dismissed them, knowing that to acknowledge her gifts would lead her down a dangerous path. Her grandfather had always warned her of that, so Alys had lived her life in the shadows, keeping her true self hidden. And now, when she wanted to call on her gifts, to give her the answers she needed, she didn’t know how to.

Winter miaowed, sitting by his empty bowl, and Alys smiled, getting up to pour him some milk. Her table was filled with a generous supply of food, and jugs of small ale and milk to see her and Winter through the coming snowstorm, though not what she needed to help her find any answers.

Her head and eye felt better, but her neck… that worried her.

Returning the milk jug to the table, she picked up the symbol stone Eddeth had given her. She wasn’t dead, the dreamer hadn’t killed her, so perhaps Eddeth had actually saved her life?

But what would the dreamer try next, and how could they stop her? Alys sat back down on the stool, eyes on the flames, surprised when

Winter jumped on her knee, rubbing his face against her arm. Alys looked down at him, stroking his white fur. ‘If only you could talk to me. Tell me what to do.’ Tears came quickly. ‘An army is coming to kill us. My children

are taken, lost. And…’ She didn’t know what else, but Reinar’s face flashed before her, his hand touching her eye, his lips on hers. Tears spilled from her eyes, trailing down her cold cheeks. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

The day ended with everyone gathering in the hall, on edge. Any good feelings after the bonfire of cursed trees had gone, lost in the blizzard. No one looked happy, apart from Ilene, who had Amir right where she wanted him.

Which annoyed Tulia, who was watching her brother out of the corner of her eye. ‘Why has he brought her in here?’ she grumbled, nudging Sigurd, who was listening to Bjarni on his other side.

Sigurd turned to her. ‘He might just like her,’ he grinned. Amir did look happy. Sigurd hadn’t seen his smile so wide since they’d all been in Kalmera together. ‘Why not let him be happy?’

‘With her?’ Tulia looked horrified.

‘You can’t pick who someone loves.’ Sigurd’s eyes drifted to where Gerda was brushing crumbs out of Stellan’s newly trimmed beard. ‘It’s not up to us to choose.’ The hall was warming up, and Sigurd edged towards Tulia until his thigh touched hers. ‘This might be the last time we’re all together. You never know what’s going to come for us out there. When. How. Why worry about Ilene and Amir? Or Torvig? Or Alys?’ He saw her twitch. ‘You don’t need to be jealous.’

‘Jealous?’ Tulia snorted. ‘I’m not jealous, Sigurd. Of the dreamer?’ She was whispering, not wanting anyone to hear. Not wanting anyone to think it was the truth. Wondering if it was the truth. ‘Why would you be interested in her?’ It was a question Tulia wanted an answer to. She had seen the way Reinar looked at Alys. Sigurd too. The dreamer was beautiful, Tulia supposed. Though timid. Shy and quiet. There was no fight in her at all. She was beaten up and beaten down.

So why did she feel so threatened by her?

‘Well, I’m not,’ Sigurd whispered. ‘So we don’t have to talk about it, do we? And if this is to be our last night together, I know what I’d rather be doing than talking about a dreamer.’ He smiled, turning his entire body towards Tulia now, his hand on her face. She stilled but didn’t pull away.

‘I suppose it’s too late to run,’ she sighed, edging closer.

‘You could. If you truly wanted to leave, you could. I won’t stop you.’ Sigurd searched her eyes, looking for clues. He wasn’t sure how he felt about anything anymore, but he knew he didn’t want Tulia to leave.

‘That isn’t what I want to hear, Sigurd Vilander,’ Tulia said sadly. ‘I know you couldn’t stop me. Of course you couldn’t. But do I want you to try?’ And pushing herself away from the table, she stood. ‘I’m going to check the ramparts. Get some air.’

Sigurd looked surprised. Disappointed. He stared after her as she forced her way through the men gathered by the doors, ignoring her brother, who appeared to have his tongue down Ilene’s throat. He blinked, feeling a nudge from Bjarni, who had quickly gobbled down his stew, disappointed there wasn’t any more.

‘The trick with women is to think about them, not yourself,’ Bjarni said with a grin. ‘No matter the woman, they all want to know we’ll fight for them.’

‘You don’t know Tulia. That’s the last thing she wants.’

Bjarni’s eyebrows were up. ‘Agnette’s no warrior, but she is strong. She doesn’t want to be fussed over, even now, but she does want to know that I’d do anything to hold on to her. To keep her by my side. That I’d fight for her. Can’t imagine Tulia’s any different.’ He watched the hall door close. ‘The dreamer’s made everything a little more complicated, hasn’t she?’ Reinar banged his cup into Torvig’s, laughing out loud, and Bjarni turned to peer at him, seeing the sadness in his friend’s eyes revealed as soon as Torvig turned away. ‘For everyone, it seems.’

That night the wind roared like a wild beast outside the tent that Mother would now be sharing with Lotta. Falla stared at the girl as she fastened the tent flap. The wind was fighting her, though, and it took some time to secure the threads into a knot. She thought of Lief, who would be enjoying the peace of their own small tent, knowing that with the snow turning into a blizzard, she was going to have to spend the night with Mother and her squawking raven.

The thought of that did not appeal.

Mother waddled around, oblivious to Falla’s irritation and Lotta’s distress. Her concern was for the flames and the herbs, the symbols and the stones. The gods were a mystery to most humans. Some dreamers were fortunate to know them personally. Some intimately. It was true that the gods were both fascinated and irritated by humans; equally entranced and revolted. Some saw them as needing their protection; others as a scurge to rid themselves of.

And those were the sort of gods Mother had gone out of her way to befriend.

A dreamer who knew dark magic could be an able assistant to a malevolent goddess who wished to stir up trouble. She closed her eyes, searching the darkness, looking for signs.

‘Would you like something warmer?’ Falla asked, offering the shivering girl a bed fur to wrap around herself.

Lotta shook her head, wanting to retreat into the darkest corner, away from the fire which illuminated every thought that popped into her head. The old dreamer would often stop and peer at her, and Lotta tried her best not to think about anything at all. But it was impossible. As soon as the silence lengthened, her mind wandered to Magnus, to her mother, to her dead father. To her pony, who didn’t like the snow. To the snow itself, and the blizzard outside. To how awful the meal had been, the chicken not cooked through. She could still taste blood in her mouth.

Mother spun around, grabbing her tiny wrist with a meaty hand. ‘You don’t like the snow?’ she smiled threateningly. ‘Not at all? Not one tiny bit?’ Every word was halting, slow, spat out of a twisting mouth.

Lotta tried to drag her arm away, but Mother had a firm grip on it. ‘Well, best you stop all that whining, then, and let me focus, or I shall

tie you up outside!’ And dropping Lotta’s arm, Mother straightened up, glaring at a confused-looking Falla, who hadn’t heard Lotta speak. ‘A dreamer must learn how to quiet their mind.’

‘You’re saying she’s a dreamer?’ Falla wondered.

‘Of course she’s a dreamer! Just like her mother. Her grandmother too. A whole line of useless, pointless dreamers in that family!’ Mother sneered, wobbling down to the ground, determined to do the ritual on her knees. There was little space in the tent, which was moving violently in the wind. Stakes had been hammered into the frozen earth to secure it, though she wondered if they had used enough. ‘Though dreamers are useful in any

form. Even whining little girl ones.’ And grinning at Lotta, she grabbed her chin, tilting it roughly towards the light. ‘But remember what I said, now. Quiet that mind of yours, or I shall make you sleep in the snow with your frozen pony!’

Lotta was just about to let her thoughts wander to how much more pleasant it would be to sleep in the snow with Clover, but one look at Mother and she bit her lip, clasping her hands together, determined to keep her mind entirely blank.

Ulrick had been one of Jesper Vettel’s most loyal men, so Hakon had employed him and his men to wind his way down the Eastern Shore to collect information. He was an accomplished warrior, scout, slaver, and an expert at blending in to whichever environment he happened to find himself in.

Silent, careful, ears always open.

And now that he had returned, and they were all settled into Hakon’s tent – Lief and Ivan on one side of the fire, Ulrick and Hakon on the other – Hakon was eager to hear everything he’d learned on his journey.

‘Ake’s army is stretched thin. The trouble up North is spreading like fire.’

Hakon frowned, caught between feeling pleased, and not wanting that trouble on his own border when he became king. ‘What’s the cause of it?’

‘Another uprising, from what I hear. The people appear to have had enough of their lords. Enough of their weather. They’re determined to head South.’

‘Well, there’s more than enough room,’ Ivan suggested. ‘Why wouldn’t Ake let them in?’

Lief thought again that Ivan always appeared smarter when he said nothing. The moment he opened his mouth, he just reminded Hakon of the terrible mistake he’d made putting his cousin in charge.

He tried not to smile.

‘They’re not coming on their own, Ivan,’ Ulrick said calmly, enjoying the warmth of the flames that were almost licking his sodden boots. ‘They’re being led by an ambitious warlord. More than one. Ake’s throne is

like a beacon. Everyone’s heading for it. But one man, in particular, may cause him problems. That man sees himself as the chosen one, from what I hear. He has ambitions to become the high king.’

Hakon turned to Ivan, eyebrows sharp. Even Ivan looked intrigued. ‘And you think that’s possible, Ulrick, that this man is destined to become the high king?’

Ulrick was a man who had dealt with many lords over the years, and he wisely shook his head. ‘I think the gods hid the Sun Torc. Broke Alekka in two. They never wanted another high king. I doubt they have an appetite for such a return. For one man to claim so much unfettered power?’

Hakon looked concerned.

Ivan tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Why worry, Cousin? Now? When we’re freezing our balls off? Stuck in this blizzard? If you look too far into the future, you won’t keep your whole mind on what lies ahead of us now. We have to survive the next few days. Get to Ottby. Keep as many of our men alive as possible. It’s getting worse out there.’

For the first time, Ivan looked and sounded serious, and that concerned Hakon more than anything. This was everything they had worked for since his father had died; everything they desired to achieve together. He nodded, eyes on his cousin. ‘You’re right, as always. This man, whoever he is, will be dealt with in time. When I sit on the throne, I’ll have you bring him in, Ulrick. You can do that, I know.’

Ulrick smiled, nodding. ‘That I can, lord.’

Hakon handed around a bowl of nuts, which were almost frozen and a danger to teeth, but the cold and the exertions of ploughing through the blizzard all day had made them hungry, and they each took a generous handful, happy to be chewing.

‘So, Ake is out West, and Stornas is commanded by?’

‘Algeir Tarkel. One of his toughest men. Experienced. Miserly. In complete charge.’

Hakon didn’t look discouraged. ‘But Ake must have taken most of his army?’

‘Algeir has enough men to hold the city. More than enough. Ake always leaves a hefty garrison.’

‘Have the Vilanders asked for reinforcements?’ Lief wondered.

Ulrick turned to him, nodding. ‘I would guess so. Reinar Vilander is in a bad, bad way. His fort is depleted now, so he’s been sending men out

begging. I know he’s been asking his neighbours, so he’ll surely have asked Stornas.’

Hakon laughed. ‘What good news you bring us, Ulrick! Just as I’d hoped. And now that your companions are dead, all the rewards will go to you, old friend! As they should!’ And reaching across the fire, Hakon banged his cup into Ulrick’s. ‘Now if only you could do something about that fucking blizzard, I would shower you in gold!’

The old woman, the maiden, and the little girl.

The three stages of life, Alys thought, watching the hooded figures, all three of them sitting around a fire, hoods up, heads bowed.

Alys had fallen asleep with thoughts of her grandfather and her children swirling around her mind. She was worried about them, wanting to know if they were safe, but in this dream, more than anything, she needed to find a way to protect the fort.

Hakon Vettel’s dreamer was coming. Alys had felt her.

And that dreamer could kill.

Her illusions and tricks were not just meant to play with their minds. She was trying to hurt them. End them. Remove the threat they posed to her master.

These things Alys knew, unspoken as they were.

But she felt them in her blood, and in her bones too, her certainty growing with every breath she took.

“Dark magic is a gift!” The voice was deep, threatening, rough-edged, and rasping. “There are spells, potions, curses—so many things one might stumble upon, whether a dreamer or not. You could read a book, hear a chant, and believe you have the power to harm your enemies or bring great fortune through evil means. But you would be gravely mistaken!” The old woman’s voice rose and fell with intensity. “For dark magic is a gift from the gods. And not everyone is fortunate enough to receive it.”

The shadows of the young girl and the young woman remained perfectly still, while the wide, stooped figure of the old woman began to move around them, her hips swaying, cloak flapping. She held her hands out to the fire, lifting the flames, making them taller, brighter, watching them twist and spark, illuminating her face.

Alys held her breath as the flames revealed that terrifying visage.

Feet rooted to the ground, she forced herself to keep watching, knowing this was all for her. This was her enemy.

“But the gods chose me!” Mother cackled, her hood falling back to reveal a round face, eyes like two full moons. “Alari came to me at my lowest, when my sons were burning, killed by that vicious bitch, Jael Furyck. She came to me in a dream. I saw myself lying in bed, asleep. I stood there, watching as Alari bent over me, blowing in my ear, whispering, chanting. She placed her hand on my chest, drew a symbol on my forehead, and I was changed. Reborn. No longer just a dreamer, but a dark witch. That is what Alari anointed me—a dark witch! She who has the ear of the Goddess of Magic herself. I am her vessel, her servant!”

Waves of terror washed over Alys’ body.

Every instinct told her to run, knowing that this woman would see her, that she would reach into the fort and kill her.

That she would come for her, awake or asleep. She had to turn around and leave.

But Alys stilled suddenly, watching as the old woman walked back around the fire to the little girl.

‘And now, I have you, dearest child, my greatest weapon of all,’ she breathed. ‘For what I learned through my own experience with death is how weak we are. That true darkness resides in the ability to take that which someone loves most of all. Our human hearts make us vulnerable… so vulnerable and weak.’ She paused, dragging the little girl towards her, pulling down her hood. ‘Now turn around, Lotta, so your mother can see you!’

Alys froze, mouth falling open in horror. And then everything went dark.