by E. Latimer
Yakira was teaching the new guards. Teaching them, preparing them to serve the queen, all the while planting doubts and spreading rumors.
My eyes darted wildly from Yakira to Gunnar and then down the hall both ways, desperately seeking some way out of this. Someone had to walk down the hallway soon. We couldn't be the only ones who had skipped dinner.
Leif's smile grew wider. "I just wanted you to meet my friends. You'll see them a lot over the next few weeks. They'll be looking out for you."
He meant following me. "Why?"
"Just to make sure you're safe. Ragnarök is coming, you know." He leaned forward, pressing his weight into his hands until his fingers dug into my shoulders and I had to bite a cry of pain back. "You never know what might happen."
More threats. And now, the pain in my shoulders was so intense that I bent my knees and tried to slide down the wall, anything to make it stop. The red book under my arm fell, hitting the ice with a heavy thump.
Leif glanced down at the book. "A little light reading? Well, you keep at that." He leaned back, releasing my shoulders, and I almost cried with relief. "Good luck catching up on thousands of years of history. For whatever good that will do you."
"I just wanted to read." My voice was husky, trembling slightly. "Not everything is a fight."
He blinked. Then he narrowed his eyes at me. "Not to you, maybe. You're still too new here. You'll figure it out though." His smile was back, and he reached out and patted me hard on the cheek , making me flinch. "I look forward to our next lesson."
He turned away, and Gunnar and Yakira started to follow him.
"We have to get you trained up," Leif said over his shoulder. "Because, like I said, you never know what might happen. It's never safe in the palace."
Then he strode away, his laughter still echoing in the hall as he went.
I was pinned to the wall, frozen by the casual cruelty of that laugh and the way Leif was talking now, on some completely different subject. As if nothing had happened. As if he and his friends had passed me by in the hall without saying anything at all.
Tears stung my eyes, and I unlocked my knees, letting myself slide down the wall. My shoulders throbbed in ten points as if his fingertips were still digging into my skin.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lunch in the great hall was always an ordeal. Food was served to us on silver platters by servants who flitted soundlessly by—roast goose or stuffed lamb or something equally extravagant. You’d think I'd feel like royalty.
Instead, I felt eyes burning into the back of my neck. The full-blooded jotun made a careful point of not looking at us half-breeds when we walked into the dining hall, but as soon as my back was turned, it was apparently fair game. I swear I could feel my skin prickle as their eyes roamed over me, judging and scornful.
When I glanced up from my plate, Karina was studying me. Maybe she was wondering if I'd listened to her warning. I gave her a hard smile, and she shrugged and went back to eating, stabbing at something on her plate.
There were three tables filled with recruits. They were just as noisy as usual, but something was different at ours. I looked down the length of our table, at the rest of us. The recruits usually ignored me for the most part, but I caught more than a few noticeably black looks from my dinner companions this time.
When I glanced over at Amy, a little half smile played on her lips. She knew something I didn’t, and she was enjoying it immensely.
I nudged her hard. “Spill it. What’s going on?”
A flash of annoyance crossed her face, and she rubbed her shoulder. Then that coy little smile was back. “What, you haven’t heard? Word’s been spreading after your little ceremony. They’re saying the queen’s going to make me her heir. Oh, and also that you’re not fit to rule anything.”
My face must have changed, gone dark, because on the other side of me, Charlotte leaned over, her brows creased. “What?”
Amy snorted. “Oh relax, Amora. It’s just a joke.”
Some joke.
She was barely containing her glee, and when she dabbed her napkin across her red lips with a satisfied little smirk, I wanted nothing more than to grab the potatoes off her plate and mash them right in her face.
"Amora." Erik approached, weaving his way through the servants bustling between tables. His hair was tousled, and he brushed ice off the shoulders of his uniform before sliding onto the bench.
Charlotte gave him a big smile and scooted to one side, and the bench creaked under his weight as he settled between us. "How was training with the prince?"
I grimaced and shoved a forkful of roast into my mouth to avoid bad-mouthing the prince in a room full of frost giants. It didn't seem wise.
"That bad, huh?"
"Are you crazy?" Amy leaned over her plate. "I love training. Prince Leif is so amazingly hot! It's the best part of my day." She gave me a sly, sideways look.
I pressed my lips together to avoid snapping at her. She enjoyed the fact that Leif hated me.
"He's horrible," Charlotte said. "Nasty."
Karina and Elliot were watching us, I realized. Karina stared down at her plate with her head tipped to one side, like she was trying to hear us better, but Elliot was openly staring. I shook my head at Charlotte, and she subsided, sullenly picking at her food.
"Oh, Charlotte, you're just jealous that you don't get lessons with him because you're too puny." Amy's voice was honey sweet and loaded with venom.
It sounded so much like Lady Edda's tone had that it made me want to slap her. It was bad enough that the jotun were constantly belittling Charlotte, I wasn’t going to let her old classmate do it anymore. I whirled in my seat and slammed my fist onto the table, fork still clutched in my hand.
"That's enough."
Amy jumped, her mouth hanging open as she stared at the fork and then back at me. A second later, she recovered and her poisonous smile was back, anger seething just below the surface. "Look at you, giving people orders. Maybe they were right."
I watched in silence as Amy stood and stalked out of the dining hall. A minute later, Stacey and Alicia followed her, but not before Alicia gave me an apologetic shrug.
"It's fine," Charlotte said hastily. She glanced around the table, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's okay, really. I just ignore her."
Everyone at the table was staring. Defiant, I met their stares with narrow eyes, and most of them went back to their food. A few nudged one another and gave me amused looks.
I stared down at my closed fist, still clutching the fork, digging the end of it into the table. Now, I'd really given them something to gossip about.
"Wait. What's this?" Erik suddenly seized my arm, pulling the shoulder of my sweater back to expose a series of dark bruises. My gift from Leif.
I tried to tug my arm away from him, but Erik held on.
He met my eyes, staring at me intently until I looked away. "Amora? Did Leif do this?"
When I didn’t reply, he leaned forward and examined the bruises more closely. "These are finger marks."
Finally, he let me pull my arm free, and I moved the sweater back in place and shrugged, my face glowing. There was no way I could tell him what had actually happened. I was pretty sure Erik’s promise not to confront Leif didn’t stretch that far.
"It was hand-to-hand combat. Everyone gets—”
"No, that's not normal. Not so early in the training.” Erik’s voice was low and furious. “He shouldn’t be using this level of force with you yet. You're not ready."
I ground my teeth and stared at my plate. "I guess it's more intense because I'm so friggin' special."
He was silent for a moment, and then he stood up abruptly. "Meet me in the library in ten minutes."
"Sure." It was better that we didn't continue this discussion here anyway, since Karina was still staring. Everyone else had gone back to eating.
"I'm gonna go now," I mumbled to Charlotte, who looked at me with wide eyes. "But you haven't finished
your lunch. Are you okay? Your shoulder—"
"I'm fine. I'll see you back at the room, okay?"
"Okay." She frowned and went back to picking at her plate.
I couldn’t get out of here fast enough, but I tried to look as casual as possible as I stood up and climbed over the bench. Like none of this had affected me at all.
Karina grinned at me over her fork. “Done so soon, oh favored one?”
I stared at her for a second, wondering if I should retaliate. Not worth it.
I turned and walked away to a chorus of, “Ooh,” and Charlotte telling her to shut up.
~ * ~
The library was mercifully empty, which was good, because if I ran into one more smug face, I'd probably take a swing at it, and while Leif was a total ass, he was also right. I couldn't go around punching everyone who offended me.
Erik and I picked one of the big oak tables. He collected a few books before he sat across from me and then pulled something out of his shirt pocket. Glasses. That cleared my bad mood right up. I laughed.
"No way. You wear glasses?"
He smiled, sliding the glasses on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. "What's wrong with that?"
"I just...didn't see you as someone who'd wear glasses." I bit my lip, not daring to say what I really thought. That Erik usually looked like some kind of hunky Viking and glasses were throwing the look off a bit. I thought I could get used to it though. It was kind of cute. "I like them. They look good on you."
"Well, thanks." His smile faded. "Look, Amora..." He darted a look left and right, and I followed his gaze. The tables around us were still empty. “We need to talk about...that." He pointed to my bruises.
Subconsciously, I hunched my shoulders. "I'm fine."
"I can talk to the queen. My father was her right-hand man for a long time and she respects—”
"No. I can't just run to her every time something happens. Do you know what Karina called me at lunch just now? 'Oh favored one.' And have you heard the nickname?"
Erik cleared his throat, dropping his eyes to the table. "Ah, yes. Yes I have."
"Creepy, right? I don't even want to talk about that. They're already giving me a hard time. I don't need the prince even more pissed off at me." I shuffled my feet and tried to avoid looking at him.
"I'm worried about you."
"I'll be fine." I sat back, tipping the chair, balancing myself with my hands on the edge of the table. "But I have a few questions for you now that we're here." The last dream was still niggling in the back of my mind. How did I ask him about all the crazy stuff my mind was coming up with? Finally, I just blurted out, "What's Ragnarök?"
His eyebrows shot up. "Someone's been studying. Or did Leif say something about that to you?"
"Maybe. Answer the question though—what is it?"
A shadow crossed his face, a look I couldn't interpret. Then his expression went carefully blank. “Ragnarök is the end times. The prophecies say that the sons of Muspel will bring it down on all of us. They will set fire to the Earth and there will be one final battle." He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. His voice had taken on a lecturing tone, and it wasn't quite convincing me.
"And you," I said. "Do you believe in these prophecies?"
He shrugged. "It only matters what the queen believes."
I lifted an eyebrow. Okay. Prophecies.
Part of me felt pretty cynical about it. Prophecies were for fantasy stories. And something about the guarded look on Erik's face made me think he wasn't totally convinced either.
A snarky little voice in my subconscious spoke up. What about giants? How is that less farfetched?
"Let me get this straight. You're all going to go charging into battle based on some crazy story, which—if I guess correctly—you don't even believe in?"
"Be silent, Amora."
His voice was low and harsh, and I took my hands off the table, startled, letting my chair settle back with a thud.
"I'm sorry.” Erik rubbed his chin, brows creased as he glanced around at the empty tables. “You just...don't talk like that in the palace. Any other questions?"
It was hard not to be offended, but I fought the irritation. Apparently, I'd hit a nerve or something. I stared at the table, running a fingernail over the swirls and knots in the wooden surface. "Tell me about Amora."
Erik stiffened. "Why?"
I studied his face, frustrated. It was like a wall had slammed down, cutting him off from me. Obviously, he wasn't about to talk about her. It wasn't fair though. Everyone expected me to fill the empty space this woman had created, but no one was willing to tell me a damn thing about her.
"I think the dreams are getting worse. I mean, more vibrant. And during lessons I feel like…I already know what I’m doing." I struggled to explain. “Like I’ve done it before.”
He smoothed one hand over the stubble on his face, his eyes distant. Finally, he sighed. "I suspected you might be experiencing something like that, but I didn't let myself hope. It seems your genetic memories are stronger than usual."
I blinked at him. "Why? What’s different about mine?" My stomach twisted.
Did that mean I was abnormal? Would they kick me out for having a dead girl in my head? Where would I go if they just threw me out into the snow?
"Having them so powerfully is rare because, traditionally, it's been something the royal family experiences. Their genes are stronger,” Erik said.
So he knew I'd been keeping secrets. Guilt bloomed in my stomach.
Thankfully, he just blinked and continued. "I’m sorry. I should have told you more about them. Genetic memories allows you to completely access the memories of an ancestor. To communicate with the spirits of those who've passed on. It's mainly used in battle. The human Vikings had something similar, though a less elegant version. They called them berserkers. We use it to gain our ancestors’ skill and fighting techniques." He pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and finger, his eyes on the ceiling.
So that was why it felt like I’d held a sword before. Why the movements seemed natural and easy. And why I found it weirdly exhilarating.
"So now will you tell me about Amora?" I folded my arms over my chest and raised one eyebrow at him. "Now that you know I really am actually part of her..." I grimaced, thinking that it sounded like some sort of weird Invasion of the Body Snatchers thing. "I mean, that I have her memories so strongly." I leaned forward. "I want to know what she was like."
Conflicting emotions rolled across Erik's face. It was almost painful to watch. His voice shook a little as he spoke.
"She was amazing. Spirited. There was no one else like her." His eyes left my face, focusing on something far away. "Everyone loved her. Well...almost everyone. Leif hated her. He could never handle the fact that she kicked his ass every time they fought in the training room. He was a sneaky little rat, even at a young age, and Amora was as honest as the day was long. She called him on everything."
It was like the sun had risen and shed light over the landscape. "So, that's why he hates me—because of some grudge with his sister he's transferred to me? Sibling rivalry?"
Erik shook his head. "No, Leif’s jealousy and hatred stems purely from greed. He's always wanted the throne. He hated Amora so much because she was the only full-blooded child of the king and queen. She would have inherited the throne over him. He was furious about it." He gripped the table with both hands, his fingertips slowly turning white. "The day Amora was killed, I could see he was celebrating internally. He would never dare voice it out loud, but he was overjoyed."
There was so much open grief on Erik's face. He looked down at the table, and I could see unshed tears glistening in his eyes.
"Did you...love her?"
He looked up, blinking rapidly. "Is it that obvious?"
"I'm sorry. Everyone says I look like her. It must be hard..." I shifted, uncomfortable with the idea that I might be causing him pain.
"It's not your fault. I admit, it
's hard. When I look at you, I feel like my heart is broken again and then rebuilt all in one moment. It's confusing. You're so much like her in some ways and completely different in others."
He reached out and took my hand. "We were going to build a life together, her and I. We had it all planned out... You look so much like her..."
His brilliant, blue eyes pinned me to the spot. I felt frozen, a confused torrent of emotions washing over me. Was he seeing Amora or Megan right now?
