Sigourney wasn’t whipped, though Gertrude was tempted. Jytte interrupted the conversation before it could escalate.
“Don’t worry,” she said, eyeing Sigourney. “She’ll remember her place soon enough. Elskerinde Jannik,” she said, “would you please hand me a glass of sugarcane wine?”
A slave holding a tray of wine stood against the wall of the courtyard, just as far away from Sigourney as he was from Jytte. Everyone watched, and Sigourney knew that this was Jytte’s way of subduing her. The woman might as well have had Sigourney beaten. It was equally as effective. Though Sigourney had the power to tell Lothar what she’d discovered, she also knew that if she didn’t do as Jytte asked right then and there, she would risk Kalle’s whip, stripped and degraded in front of all. This was a different sort of stripping, a different sort of degradation. The Fjern smiled to themselves as she walked across the courtyard, under all of their eyes, and picked up a glass of sugarcane wine. She walked back to Jytte and placed it in her waiting hand.
“Thank you, Elskerinde Jannik,” Jytte said to Sigourney, before taking a sip, eyes still fastened to the woman’s gaze. She passed Sigourney a thought.
You can tell Lothar what I plan, Jytte told Sigourney, but know that I am not so desperate to see you become my slave. You wouldn’t live to see its outcome.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Waves still crash and roil around my feet. They shimmer under the silver of the moonlight. The moon hangs low, a white globe that brightens the sky like the sun itself. It’s so bright that I almost question if I’m in another of my dreams or nightmares, and I expect to see my mother standing, her back to me as she waits in the shallows. The waves that wash my feet are less violent than a few months before when I stood here during the storm season, but there’s still a risk that the water could swipe my feet from under me and pull me into the sea. My body’s natural response is fear. It pumps through me with every beat of my heart. Fear would crawl through me whether I risked my life on these rocks or not. There’s always a level of fear inside of me, just like there’s always a sheen of sweat that covers my skin in the heat of these islands. But along with the fear, there’s a whisper that fills me. Assurance, that the spirits won’t let me die. Not this way.
Sigourney had always been too afraid to join me on these rocks. She’d only ever watch from the bay. She stands beside me. It isn’t her, not really—she’s only a projection of my imagination, created by the bond of our kraft. She’s translucent, like a spirit might be, prepared to haunt Hans Lollik Helle.
I thank her for the warning she’d given me of the Fjern assassin. She saved my life.
It wouldn’t do me any good to lose my only ally.
How much longer do you think you’ll have before the Fjern kill you? I ask her this, and she laughs in response, not surprised by my bluntness but amused. I always have been blunt with the truth. There’s no point in attempting to cloak the truth for the sake of politeness, especially one as obvious as this.
I think they’ll kill me the moment they decide I’m no longer useful. This is true, I can feel this within her. And I have to remain useful to you as well, so that you won’t let me die on Niklasson Helle. And she can feel that this is true within me, too. Though I wouldn’t want to abandon her, if the others on this island feel that Sigourney has betrayed us, or that she hasn’t been helpful enough for us to risk our lives to rescue her if need be, she’ll be left on that island to the mercy of the Fjern. She’s glad that I don’t bother to deny this.
Then listen to me now. She has seen from Jytte Solberg the woman’s plans. Sigourney has also seen how Solberg Helle has become necessary to the Fjern in this war. The island stores arsenal and has become the main site for the training of guards. To attack Niklasson Helle first would mean the loss of the war. But if we were to attack Solberg Helle, we might have a chance.
Even better is the fact that attacking Solberg Helle means destroying Elskerinde Jytte Solberg. She has a true chance of taking Lothar Niklasson by surprise and taking control of the kongelig, becoming their queen. If we were to get her out of the way, we would only have to worry about attacking Lothar in the end, rather than having to battle two families.
I hesitate. Geir’s kraft sparks in me, and I can see that it would be a better plan to allow Jytte to attack Lothar—for them to weaken each other further, before fighting whoever is left standing. But I can also see Sigourney’s point in taking Solberg Helle. This island holds the most resources, which we desperately need. It’s also a central position, making it easy to attack the other islands the Fjern still hold: Larsen, Jannik, Lund, Rose, and Niklasson Helle.
It isn’t lost on me that fighting Jytte Solberg would also be the best course of action for Sigourney. She has many enemies on Niklasson Helle, but while Lothar Niklasson can’t be bothered to kill her yet, it seems that Jytte’s priority is making Sigourney suffer. It would be most helpful to Sigourney for us to attack Solberg Helle, and give Jytte another priority to focus on. Better yet, we might kill Jytte Solberg in the process.
Sigourney is already fading from my vision. Is it so wrong for me to hope for this?
We don’t have the number of guards necessary to request the help of Årud Helle, but we have to move forward with our attack nonetheless. I’d gambled on taking the time to travel north and asking the help of our fellow islanders. We wasted time, and we only have a few days before we run out of food and supplies. We have no choice but to attack, before we find ourselves in a worse situation. It’s a gamble that I lost, and we have to face the consequences of my mistake.
Malthe is still determined that we attack Niklasson Helle first, but I have seen the island through Sigourney. I see the number of guards. The island is fortified against us. We have no chance in winning. Sigourney’s reasoning in attacking Solberg Helle first is sound, but if we were to win the battle, she would benefit as well. I can’t trust that she only wants us to control Solberg Helle for the sake of the rebellion. Geir’s kraft works its way through me. It would be better to attack the smaller islands first, with their weaker defenses. We could take Larsen Helle and then Jannik Helle, collecting the resources and adding to the number of fighting islanders who can join us in the attacks against Solberg and Niklasson Helle.
I hold a wall between myself and Sigourney. I can feel her continuing to try to contact me, the pain in my head piercing my thoughts. But I don’t need her to visit me. I don’t need her to continue confusing me, manipulating me and swaying me to make decisions that are for her benefit. I still need more information before I can make a final decision. In the meeting room, I ask Kjerstin to send a chosen scout to Larsen Helle and confirm that the island is one within our ability to win. If the Fjern have learned of the possibility that we will attack, either through their emissary who could be in this very room or through Sigourney learning my thoughts, then we’ll need to be prepared for a battle we still might not win.
But the morning after the scout leaves, Kjerstin comes to me, grim and out of breath. She asks me to follow her to the shore. Though decayed by salt and heat and bloated by water, I recognize the scout’s head. His gaunt face has eyes that sink into his face. The head is removed and given proper burial at sea. After we’ve paid our respects, Kjerstin whispers her concern to me. The Fjern had been patrolling the seas to the north, but there’s a particular current that the scout had taken—a route usually ignored and unseen. Especially at night, no one would have been able to see the scout so easily, unless they were looking for him in advance.
The others had been expecting me to cut my ties with Sigourney, but I can say without hesitation that she knew nothing of this plan. I’d had my wall up between us. She couldn’t contact me, even when I felt the pressure in my head as she tried to break through. She wouldn’t have seen our plan to send Ivar south to Larsen Helle.
“There isn’t any doubt,” I say to the others as we sit in the meeting room. “No one but us in this room knew. One of us has betrayed the revolution.”<
br />
Olina, who had been watching me, allows her gaze to fall to the surface of the table. Geir is unbothered by this declaration. He’s confident I have no reason to suspect him. He instead looks at each sitting at the table as well. Kjerstin watches me unblinkingly. Do you really believe it would be me? She wants to ask this aloud, but her thought comes to me clearly all the same. Do you really believe I would betray my islands to the Fjern?
Marieke and Malthe are just as silent as the rest. Malthe gazes at me openly as well. He expects me to accuse him. Not because he thinks to himself that he actually has betrayed us, but because he thinks this is what he would do if our positions were reversed. Accusing him would give me the opportunity to have him executed—to be rid of him, in the way that I see he wants to be rid of me. It would make the most sense. It’s something Geir hopes I will do as well. But I won’t simply accuse Malthe. Not because I fear him and not because I see him as a rival. This is the way that the Fjern would rule—killing innocents just because they are rivals. We need to create something better.
Marieke won’t look at me. I can’t believe, not for a moment, that she would be the one to betray us. She has been one of the longest members of the whispers. She waited for the right moment to present her allies with Sigourney Rose. She’s had more patience and cunning than any of us—a lifetime’s worth. Why would she destroy all of her hard work for the Fjern?
Yet as I ask myself this question, I can feel Kjerstin’s accusing gaze land on Marieke. The woman continues to call Sigourney Rose an Elskerinde. It could be possible that she would’ve fought all of these years for freedom, without realizing that once she had her freedom, she didn’t know who she was with it. She might have decided that she wanted to remain under her mistress, the woman she considers to be her daughter. I also realize that it could be just as possible that Sigourney is somehow controlling Marieke. She did the same to get onto this island. She controlled the late Elskerinde Jannik. She didn’t force the woman’s hand, necessarily, but she made enough suggestions that the woman allowed Sigourney to marry her son, Aksel, so that Sigourney could arrive on Hans Lollik Helle for the storm season. That had taken years, but Sigourney might have learned a way to perfect her kraft of control without anyone’s noticing. Marieke could be acting on her mistress’s behalf without her consent.
“And how can we be sure that it isn’t you?” Malthe asks.
“Me?” I repeat.
The incredulity isn’t received well. Yes, what about me? The expressions on the others consider me carefully. I’ve been the most merciful one here to Sigourney Rose. Though I led the others to victory, it could easily all be a sham as I work with the Fjern. I’m the son of a kongelig family, the only of us who leads this rebellion. Their blood is in my veins. Could they really trust me, when I look more like the Fjern than anyone else in this room? It’s possible that the kongelig could’ve offered me a place among them, one that I might have secretly desired all this time. A more frightening possibility is that Sigourney could actually be controlling me without my knowledge. I don’t really understand enough about this link between us. She could’ve found a way to exploit our bonded kraft—and me as well.
“I’m not the one who’s betrayed us,” I say, but that’s what anyone would say whether they were the traitor or not. It doesn’t help the circle’s opinion of me. Kjerstin seems skeptical of the possibility, along with Marieke, but Olina does seem to consider me in a new light. Geir’s expression is carefully blank.
“We don’t have time for this—not right now,” Malthe says. “We’ll need to revisit and question each of us in turn. Right now, we need to decide our next move.”
My first instinct is to argue. It’d make more sense to discover who the traitor is, before they can get in the way of our future plans. But I realize that Malthe is right. If we spend hours, days trying to root out the spy, then we’ll have lost precious time. Without their intervention, we will have lost the war. We can only hope that whoever it is will decide to be careful and not act with everyone watching one another.
“And who will we attack?” Marieke asks me.
“Larsen Helle.” It’s the closest island, and we won’t be prepared to attack Solberg Helle, no matter what Sigourney suggests.
“The Fjern will see this is our only option,” Geir warns us. “They’ll be prepared.”
“We must hope that they’ll continue to underestimate us,” Kjersin responds. “Larsen Helle comparatively doesn’t have a natural defense. I can try to send the spies ahead again to see if their guards have arrived in force.”
“They’ll just kill the scouts like all the rest. We need to sail and attack immediately,” Malthe says. “We need to bring all of the guards.”
“Hans Lollik Helle will be defenseless,” Marieke protests. “We could lose the island.”
Kjerstin speaks. “I agree with Malthe on this. If we have any chance at all, we need to take Larsen Helle and liberate the islanders there so that we can add to our forces.” There could also be resources waiting on the island. Resources we desperately need.
“There’s someone in this room we cannot trust,” I say. “They will use this information against us and the Fjern will attack Hans Lollik Helle. We’ll leave half of the guards in defense and take the rest with us.”
“If we do take Larsen Helle, we’d have to move quickly into attacking Jannik Helle, or they’ll take the island back within the same night.”
“We’ll be ready,” I answer Geir. “We’ll take Jannik within the next day and prepare to fight for Solberg Helle. That’s the only way we can win this war: if we take each island, one-by-one, until we have driven all the Fjern from these seas.”
Malthe is frustrated. He doesn’t want to waste time or resources on the smaller islands. He wants to attack Niklasson Helle immediately. But we don’t have any other choice.
I give the order. “Begin preparations for Larsen Helle.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Geir and Olina argue that I should not leave Hans Lollik Helle. I’m the leader, and the battle of Larsen Helle is too dangerous. Marieke agrees. She’s afraid to lose me, and I can also sense that she doesn’t trust that I would survive, especially with Malthe as my only ally. Kjerstin is the only one who doesn’t argue for me to stay. She worries, yes. But she also believes that my chances of surviving here on Hans Lollik Helle are as high as surviving Larsen Helle. It’s all the same to her, in the end. We’ll likely lose and be executed side by side. It doesn’t matter when it’s time for us to die.
The journey is short. The tide is strong, and while we do encounter Fjern scouts, we easily overtake them on the ships of Hans Lollik Helle. I can see Larsen Helle in the distance. I remember the island from when I was a boy, desperate to escape to the north. The bay has little cover that could be used to hide. There are only a few mangroves in comparison to Hans Lollik Helle and the island has open rocky shores. The flat fields with grass shimmering in the breeze would leave us too out in the open and vulnerable to ambush. If we manage to win the island, we’ll need to move on quickly.
The sun is already rising by the time we’re near the coast. We hadn’t meant to arrive so close to dawn. If it can be helped, it’s always better to fight in the bright midday sun rather than the dark of night. The enemy can’t see in the shadows, yes, but neither can we, and our people have trained long and hard hours under the hot sun. The Fjern have never been used to this heat. They always seek the shade and turn pink and red and faint. Fighting in the heat is to our advantage.
The Fjern have seen us coming. Pillars are lit in warning, black smoke ballooning into the sky. I can hear the bells from the helm where I stand, Malthe in his position beside me. Hesitance begins to paralyze me. I think that there will be innocent people on Larsen Helle. Different from the kongelig I have cut down before. Fjern who simply came to these islands to make better lives for themselves away from the harshness of their empire—mothers, children. These will be people who have nothing to do wit
h the kongelig, people who perhaps couldn’t afford to own slaves themselves. People, trying to live their lives in peace. Countless will be killed in the fighting. If left to the others—if left to Malthe—every single Fjern will be slaughtered.
I can feel the anger of the others. I can hear Malthe’s voice. No Fjern is innocent. A revolution isn’t won by showing the enemy mercy. And I try to remind myself that, no matter the age—no matter the innocence—each of the Fjern are the enemy. I think them innocent, but these Fjern children will happily accept the power they were given over my people’s lives. If given the chance, they will own and sell my people’s bodies and decide that we are not worth the same as them. I tell myself this, again and again.
We anchor our ships in the shallows and take smaller boats, pulled from the ship, to row to shore. There’s no battle call. The guards were already given their orders. It’s a silent march from the gray sand and across the sharp grass and to the nearest fishing village. The village is a collection of wooden houses that lean in the breeze, small gardens that produce weeds, and a dirt path that leads to the empty docks where boats and nets have been abandoned. The village is small. Most of the Fjern ran when they saw us, but not everyone would’ve been able to escape. There’ll have been the elderly, the ill, mothers with too many children to run. Malthe marches through the center of the village as the guards begin their search, and the screams for mercy begin. He’d already decided there would be no survivors. There’s no need for prisoners, and anyone we release will simply return to the Fjern with information against us. I try to steel my heart against the cries. I want to close my eyes, but I can feel Malthe watching me, waiting for a sign of weakness—for a sign that I have too much sympathy for the Fjern. That I really might be the traitor of Hans Lollik Helle.
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