by Sara Holland
“I haven’t seen this before,” he says finally, putting the gauntlet down on his desk in a nest of scattered letters, pens, and loose paper. “But I recognize that name. Winterkill.”
“Brekken said it was a wealthy estate in Myr,” I offer, leaving out the bits about lavish parties and magpies. I want Marcus to come to the same conclusion as me on his own. Then he’ll be more likely to let me do something about it.
Marcus nods. “Yes. It used to be an honorable family, a noble one. Cadius Winterkill was a delegate at the summer summits for a while, about twenty years ago.” Marcus traces a finger along the gauntlet’s edgings, looking troubled. “But then something changed. There have been rumors Cadius is involved with the soul trade, buying and selling bound silver from his estate. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard enough whispers to take them seriously.”
Cold trickles down my spine. “Do you think Mom had something to do with that? Like maybe she went undercover with this guy?”
“I never knew her to do anything of the sort.” Marcus chuckles, but it’s a melancholy sound. “Your mother was almost as bad a liar as you are.”
I can’t help but notice how he uses the word was. Like she’s already gone. “Well, it’s another lead, then,” I say, trying to sound chipper.
“There are other rumors too.” Marcus opens a desk drawer, but he pauses before dropping the gauntlet in, turning it over in his hands instead. “Graylin told me there was talk that Cadius had an enchanted suit of armor …”
My eyes flit to the gauntlet and back to my uncle. “Enchanted to do what?”
He’s already looked through the photo book, but I flip again to the photo of Mom in Fiordenkill and turn it around to face Marcus, to emphasize my point. “What if it allowed whoever wore it to travel between the worlds?”
I don’t think I’m imagining the hint of wistfulness in Marcus’s eyes as he looks at the picture. Is it for his sister, or for the other world?
“I just don’t know how this could be,” he says, and it sounds like he’s talking half to himself. “If there really is a way, how have we never heard about it before?”
“There are whole worlds outside of here,” I say, my heart beating fast at the thought of it. “There’s probably tons of stuff we don’t know. Just waiting to be found.”
He looks up at me, expression sharp. “What are you plotting?”
“Plotting?” I blink, but I know Marcus won’t let me get away with playing dumb. “Not plotting, just thinking.” I reach out and take the gauntlet from where he’s set it down on the desktop. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but it feels slightly warm in my hands, like something alive. “We could use this to find some actual answers. They’re not going to just come to us.”
“You want to go to Fiordenkill,” Marcus observes.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. Guilty. “Haven’t you ever been curious?”
“Of course I am,” he replies, a little sharp. “But even if this thing”—he indicates the gauntlet—“will let you survive there for a while, we don’t know how long the effects last. We don’t know the intricacies of Myr politics. We don’t have proof that Winterkill is connected to anything at all. Are you sure this isn’t about Brekken?”
“Brekken?” I sit up straight, surprised and a little insulted. I mean, it’s true that I’ve always dreamed of seeing Brekken’s homeland. But that’s not what’s driving me now—it’s that we have a solid lead and the means to follow it. Yes, I have feelings for Brekken. It would be silly to pretend otherwise. So I have a crush—that doesn’t mean my common sense has evaporated. I’m tempted to remind my uncle who ran the inn while he was out of commission and Brekken was missing.
“Look.” Marcus lifts the photo book, finger tapping on the open page. “We in this family have a bad habit of falling in love with Fiordens.” The second half of his statement hangs in the air, unspoken: Do you want to turn out like your mom?
I know he’s changing the topic, but I can’t help taking the bait. “It worked out for you, didn’t it?”
“I got lucky,” Marcus says, exasperated. “You know that. I got someone obsessed with stories, so life at a crossroads is perfect. Graylin’s happy here, where he can read and write and talk to the delegates. Do you think Brekken will be happy sitting at Havenfall forever? Putting down the sword and spending his days listening?”
A bubble of hurt grows in my chest. “He’s a good listener.” I point at the gauntlet. “Plus, maybe it doesn’t have to be like that. If this thing really works.”
“So you’re going to spend your life in Fiordenkill?”
“I didn’t say that.” My cheeks heat. The other side of the scale weighs heavy here too—even if it is somehow possible to live in another realm, that would mean giving up on being Innkeeper. But I don’t want to think about that right now. I didn’t come in here to decide how I was going to spend the rest of my life. If Brekken even wants me.
“I’m not talking about forever,” I say, angry now. I stand up, and Marcus does too, but I keep talking, cutting off whatever he might want to say. “I just can’t sit here while the soul trade goes on and Nate might still be alive. I can’t do anything about the Silver Prince, so let me go to Fiordenkill and do something. And anyway, I think it’s all connected—”
Marcus’s next words come out in a yell. “I don’t want you to roll the dice with your life!”
His raised voice startles us both, and silence falls. Then Marcus plops back into his chair, lifting his hands in a gesture of apology or surrender, I’m not sure which. In the silence, a draft from the tunnels sneaks through the open door into Marcus’s office, making me shiver. The faintest of breezes, tinged with the scents of ice and ash.
“I’m sorry,” Marcus says after a long, tense moment. He drops his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “But put yourself in my shoes for a second here, Maddie. What would I tell your dad if something happened to you?”
My heart twinges, and I slowly sink back into my seat. That hadn’t occurred to me. I feel thoughtless, a little shamed. Still …
“Think about the look on his face if I can bring Nate home.”
Marcus flinches. We stare at each other, like a standoff in an old Western movie.
“I know it’ll be risky,” I go on after a moment. “But the reward—even the possibility—don’t you think that’s worth it?”
After several more seconds that feel like several lifetimes, Marcus lets out a heavy sigh. He runs his fingers through his hair, after which the stress curls bounce higher.
“If you do this, there are going to be rules,” he says.
My skin tenses with excitement. I want to let out a whoop of victory, but I hold it in and keep my face as neutral as possible, in case Marcus changes his mind.
“Of course,” I say, trying to sound mature and confident and competent. “Lay them on me.”
“Graylin goes with you.”
That surprises me. I’ve hardly ever known Graylin to leave Havenfall, not even to go into town. Like Marcus said a minute ago, he’s content here. But I can’t deny that the idea of having Graylin beside me in Fiordenkill is a comfort. “Sure, if he wants to.”
“And Brekken.”
I raise one eyebrow. “No argument from me there.”
But Marcus stares me down. “And I expect him to protect you with his life.”
“Okay.” I don’t plan on putting my life or anyone’s life in danger, so it’s easy enough to agree to that. Assuming Brekken wants to come with.
“Before you leave, Graylin will do research on the gauntlet to make sure it’s safe,” Marcus says, reaching out and reclaiming the object from me. “And once you’re in Fiordenkill, if it seems at all like it’s not working, if you get so much as a runny nose, you turn around and come right back.”
Once you’re in Fiordenkill. I never thought I’d hear those words. Just the sound of them makes my pulse race. But Marcus isn’t finished.
“And one more t
hing,” he says, enunciating every word. “I need you to promise, Maddie. Whatever you find there at this Winterkill place, whatever you see, you will not interfere. No matter what.”
He stops to let the words sink in.
It takes a second.
“Wait, but what if—”
“No,” he cuts in. “No matter what.”
“We’re talking about the soul trade!” I burst out. “The Solarians are suffering!”
“So report back.”
Marcus’s voice is resolute, no wavering in it. “Come back and tell me what’s going on, and we’ll figure out what to do. But you can’t take on all of it alone. None of us can.”
I have to bite my tongue to keep from arguing further. Marcus is right. Logically, I know he’s right. But that doesn’t make it any easier when I eventually say, “Okay. I promise.”
No easier to make a promise I’m not sure I can keep.
My heart is in my throat as I go to find Brekken. Marcus is going to run the plan by Graylin, but it’s obviously on me to put the question to Brekken. No big deal, right? I just have to find out whether he wants to put his life and his future in Myr on the line by helping me sneak into his homeland and spy on a corrupt lord.
There was once a time when I’d have had no doubt Brekken would say yes. When we were kids and he was my partner in every adventure. But things feel different now that he’s a soldier. What if whatever it is we share doesn’t work outside the bounds of Havenfall? What if he doesn’t want to move against his own country for me?
No. I remind myself that when Brekken went missing a few weeks ago, he was working to gather information about the soul trade among his fellow Fiordens. He kept what he was doing a secret from everyone, even me, because he thought Marcus was on the traders’ side. He hates the trade as much as I do. He’ll understand why we have to do this.
I wish I could tell Taya, I realize as I walk through the dark halls. Wish it fiercely. I’ve tried my best to keep thoughts of her at bay these last few days, because I fear that if I allow myself to sink into that morass, I’ll never get back out. Never get past the feeling that it’s my fault she’s gone. I don’t even know if she chose to go through the Solarian door, or if all the magic and blood we—she—shed in our fight with the Silver Prince in the tunnels upset the volatile magic of the doors and sucked her in. She’s in Solaria alone, and while she might be a Solarian, she knows nothing of that world. She hadn’t even known about other Realms before coming to Havenfall this summer. If something happens to her there, how will I ever forgive myself? If I even ever find out?
Now that I’ve let my thoughts run rampant, I feel panic set in. My heart races and my palms sweat. This can’t happen. I have work to do. Turning down the hallway toward Brekken’s room, I take a deep breath and try to break off the thought loop. How do you eat an elephant? Dad’s voice sounds in my head. One bite at a time.
There’s nothing I can do to help Taya right now, with the door to Solaria being closed. Plus, she wouldn’t want me to dwell on it at the expense of helping others. I wonder if she can come back. If she wants to.
There is something I can do. I can knock on Brekken’s door. Brekken can help me move forward. Forward to Fiordenkill.
8
Two days later finds Graylin and me heading upstairs to one of the meeting rooms. We’ve just come from the library and another crash course in the Fiorden language. The strange words Graylin taught me rattle around in my head. Ranir losir a sephe? Where is the entrance?
No matter how many words he crams into my head, no Fiorden who looks at me for more than three seconds will mistake me for one of them. It feels like a waste of time to learn the language. Then again, it’s not like there’s much else I can do. And if I just sit and wait, I think I’ll explode or lose heart.
“I was thinking,” Graylin says as we climb the stairs. “Once we get into Fiordenkill, I’d like an old friend to take a look at the gauntlet. She’s a scholar of matter, specifically metal, at Myr’s university. She may be able to tell us something.”
“Sounds good,” I reply on autopilot. Nerves fill my stomach as we climb the stairs in tense silence.
Brekken’s project this morning was to tell Princess Enetta about our plan to investigate Cadius and ask her to help us locate the Winterkill fortress. Enetta is a good woman as far as I know, but it’s a big ask, and potentially disastrous if she takes it the wrong way. We’re asking her to betray one of her own people, an influential noble at that, to help Solarians.
Graylin and I exchange a nervous glance outside the meeting room’s closed door, then I step forward and push the door open. Brekken, Marcus, and Enetta sit clustered at the center of the long oak table. Their low talk ceases, and all three look up as we come in. Skylights let the afternoon sunlight pour down into the room, illuminating the map of Myr that Brekken has spread over its surface. I half expect to see little carved chess pieces scattered on the aged paper.
“You have quite the undertaking ahead of you,” Enetta says as we sit down.
Her tone is cool, neutral, and I stare into her eyes to try to figure out how she feels. Will she help us? Her eyes flicker over my wrist as I take my seat, and I know what she’s looking for. But I’m not wearing the gauntlet. It’s back in Marcus and Graylin’s room, while Graylin runs a few last tests to make sure it’s not dangerous and to see if he can decipher how it lets its wearer cross the boundaries between worlds.
Before us on the table, Myr sprawls out in blue ink: a dense cluster of hash marks to represent the capital city; wide, flattened upside-down Vs to represent mountains and narrow ones for trees, and small rectangles scattered over the expanse of the map, each labeled with text in a language I don’t read.
“Cadius is one of the wealthiest lords in Myr,” Enetta goes on. “He has gold mines on his property, and that is why he has a private army contracted and stationed on his estate. No wall surrounds it, because everyone knows the soldiers will dispatch any trespassers. That is, if his bears don’t find you first.”
I look at Brekken across the table, but his eyes are downcast. My shoulders slump in discouragement. “So there’s no way in?”
I might be willing to risk my own life, but I don’t want to gamble with Brekken’s or Graylin’s.
“No way that’s not dangerous, no.” Enetta’s cool brown gaze holds mine. “But there may be another option.” She taps her fingers on the map. “He holds feasts every moon, lavish parties to placate the governors and stop them from looking too closely at his business dealings. This is well known. But anyone with morals, myself included, will have nothing to do with his feasts. I didn’t know the whole truth until this loyal soldier came to me.” She looks approvingly at Brekken, whose eyes flicker.
“My loyalty is to what’s right,” he says simply, and my chest warms.
Things might have been weird between us. We might not agree on what the best course of action will be, but I don’t doubt Brekken’s intentions anymore. He’s a lodestone, always pointing to his north star.
After the meeting, he catches up to me in the hall after the adults have dispersed. He lifts a hand to wave me down, and I see with surprise the glitter of gold, reaching up from his shirt cuff to wrap around his palm. He’s wearing the gauntlet.
“Graylin gave it to me,” he says in response to my confused look. “To see that it works. He suggested that we … go somewhere.” He waves vaguely in the direction of the front door.
“Go where?” I echo, confused. Then it clicks. “You mean outside Havenfall?” I take a step back, mildly appalled. I figured Graylin had some sort of test he could run. The scientific method. Not just using Brekken as a guinea pig.
“But what if it doesn’t work?”
Brekken shrugs. “Then better to find out here than in Fiordenkill, don’t you think?” He beckons me toward the door.
He looks way too happy about this, and I can’t help thinking of Marcus’s words earlier. Do you think Brekken will be happy
sitting at Havenfall forever?
“Um …” I stall, trying to think. The picture of Mom in Fiordenkill wearing the gauntlet seemed like plenty of proof that it worked, when it was just my butt on the line. But now that it’s Brekken offering to try it out, the whole thing seems a lot flimsier.
An idea hits me. I read online that the Fourth of July celebrations last week had been postponed down in Loveland because of thunderstorms—thunderstorms that missed us in Havenfall, given the bubble of good weather that seems to hover over the mountaintop. They moved it to the next Friday instead—which is tonight.
So that’s how Brekken and I end up driving half an hour east as the sun sinks down, down out of the mountains. In the passenger seat of the Toyota Camry Dad gave me, Brekken navigates and I follow his directions, almost vibrating with tension, afraid at any second that whatever magic is allowing this will give out, and Brekken will start shaking and sickening, too far into our world for his Fiorden blood.
But it doesn’t happen. Instead, Brekken seems to perk up more and more as we go down the mountain, looking out the window with avid interest, to the point where I have to remind him to tell me the next turn. At the sweeping, immaculate green park where the show is happening, we don’t venture into the picnicking crowd. I’m aware that Brekken is recognizably, if subtly, not human. Instead, we sit on the hood of the parked Camry, craning our necks to look up at the sky as the fireworks whistle and burst above.
They’re beautiful, but I keep getting distracted by Brekken. While we’ve been in the town of Haven plenty of times before, for ice cream or hiking or sneaking drinks, we’ve never gone farther. It’s strange to be with him like this, on the outside. To see him not amidst the glitz and glamor of the delegates, but juxtaposed against everyday human life, the disorderly crawl of cars trying to cram into a parking lot, the smell of barbecue and cigarette smoke and the gunpowder from the fireworks, overheard conversations about work and school and weather and traffic, hundreds of cell phones upturned to capture the fireworks and memorialize them.
