The closer they drew to Sjaligr, the tighter the ball of nerves in Mara’s stomach wound itself. Dawn was just barely rising, more a blush on the horizon than a real sunrise still, when the city itself came into view. The buildings packed against the cliffs were no different than she remembered them, but they seemed grand enough to Aallotar to prompt a sudden inhale.

Mara turned to face her companion, noting the tension in the wildling’s body that ran as tightly as a drawn bowstring. “Are you alright?” 

“I feel nerves,” Aallotar admitted. “There will be many mennskr. More than I thought.” 

“You can always stay out in the woods,” Mara offered. “We can backtrack a day or two.” 

“I could cover such ground easily as the beast,” the wildling said with a shake of her head. “I would be drawn to hunting so close and leave terrible evil in my wake.” 

Mara flashed Aallotar a quick smile to reassure her. “Then stay with me. As long as you don’t stray, the beast won’t come out.” 

“Strong emotions may push the boundaries, but it is so,” Aallotar said. She reached out, catching Mara’s hand with her own. “Are you well, nathæ?” 

“Not looking forward to my reception,” Mara admitted. “Gareth won’t have forgiven me for bringing news of a curse. Everyone will know by now, too. I might be dodging rocks if we leave in the daytime, or worse.” 

Aallotar gave her hand a squeeze. “Then we should hasten,” she said softly. Mara could tell that the wildling still couldn’t understand why such violence might await, but Aallotar wasn’t going to ask again. Not after Mara had given the same answer several times and been incomprehensible to the wildling.

Her curse was a blessing to Aallotar, after all. It brought peace as nothing else ever had. 

The wildling tensed again. “Mennskr are coming,” she said. “I smell sweat and steel.” 

Mara cursed and looked around. Their section of the path winding through the low hills had only a few hiding places, mostly surrounded by bare rock and stunted trees. “How many?” She knew from traveling alongside her for a while now that Aallotar’s senses were keener than her own. 

“One.” 

It was hard not to think of the sword on her hip. Mara didn’t want to be a kinslayer. It was almost the worst crime one could commit, sitting beside oath-breaking in contempt. “Let’s see who it is,” she said grimly. “Maybe they have something important to say.” 

“Let us hope it is peace,” Aallotar muttered. She glanced down at herself. Wearing clothes and boots bartered from traders using her sable furs and a jar of the green rinse, she looked the part of a local, but her jagged tattoos, long loose hair, and feral golden eyes still left her with a wildling’s edge. It had taken her most of a week to get used to having boots.

She relaxed when a familiar figure rounded the corner. Gaius was always a pleasant sight, looking his gruff usual self with only a few thin lines of worry in his brow and at the corners of his mouth. “I guess I’m worse at sneaking than I thought,” Mara said, relaxing.

“Your mother’s dreams were disrupted. That only happens when you near,” Gaius said by way of explanation, his eyes falling warily on Aallotar. “Who’s this?” 

“This is Aallotar, my friend from the north,” Mara said. She looked over at Aallotar and offered her companion a comforting smile. “This is my teacher, Gaius. He’s a good sort.” 

Gaius grunted at that. “Your mother sent me to fetch you. Less chance of trouble with Gareth. He may not respect me, but he appreciates that I can beat him into the paving stones even with all his precious magic at his fingertips.” 

Not once had Mara ever seen Gaius flinch away from a spell. He wasn’t able to disrupt them the way she was, but he tended to hit so fast and hard that even eldritch knights struggled to keep their concentration focused enough to channel magic. Even when a spell did hit him, the pain only seemed to make him fight harder, probably because it angered him. She nodded, grateful for the protection. 

Aallotar’s lip curled at the mention of Gareth. Mara put a hand on the wildling’s arm before she could say anything and shook her head. It would not be wise to run into a confrontation with her uncle. 

If Gaius noted her friend’s anger, he made no mention of it. “I’ll escort you two,” he said instead. “No one’s really up and moving in town yet except your mother and I, with the harvest pulled in. What kept you so long?” 

Mara had several answers to that question, but she only gave voice to one. “Aallotar was too injured to travel for a while. I stayed with her to make certain she healed well enough to come.” 

The middle-aged man grunted at that. “What’s her story, anyway? Her tattoos don’t match the mountain people that I’ve seen, and I’ve been all across the Red Mountains.” 

Aallotar glanced at Mara, seeking reassurance before she spoke. Mara’s small smile was enough encouragement for her to brave forward with her stilted words. “I come from north to the Sylfr River.” 

Gaius stopped and turned on his heel, leveling a piercing glare at Mara. “How many times did Aamu and I warn you to stay south of that accursed river, Mara?” he demanded sharply. “As far as I know, no other has ever returned from fording it. You could have vanished just as they did. That is a place of death.” 

Mara glared right back, even though Gaius’s words were truer than even he likely believed. After seeing the beasts to the north, it was easy to understand why no warrior or hunter had ever returned, no matter how powerful. She would have died without Aallotar. “I had protection,” the huntress said. “Aallotar wouldn’t have let me come to harm.” 

Her mentor didn’t budge, lips a thin grim line as he shifted his attention to the wildling. “Few are so charitable. What are your reasons?” 

“Gaius, leave her alone,” Mara snapped. “Is it so hard to believe I might have made a friend?” 

“I am here to protect you,” he said bluntly. “The Red Mountains are full  of betrayal for a spell-breaker.” 

Aallotar bared her teeth at that. “Never,” she said. If she had been in her cursed form, her hackles would have stood on end. 

“We’ll see,” Gaius said as he turned back to Sjaligr. “If you prove to be a danger to her, wildling, I will put you in the ground myself.” 

Mara put a hand on Aallotar’s arm. She appreciated that Gaius was trying to protect her, but she wanted Aallotar to feel welcome. Her mentor was doing nothing for Aallotar’s tension about being in the land of mennskr. “You’re alright,” Mara whispered near her friend’s ear, so Gaius wouldn’t overhear. “He’s just overprotective.” 

“Not enough to save you from Gareth,” Aallotar ground out from between tight teeth. Even in human form, her canines were slightly more pronounced. 

It was a point Mara couldn’t really argue. For all the lessons and support Gaius had given, he was often unable to protect her from her uncle and her brother. He could make no inroads on her father’s absent heart either. Only her mother could really exert enough sway to make Viljami back down or push Gareth into abandoning his tormenting. Mara picked up her pace as they followed Gaius, eager to reach the forge and the safety it represented. 

The streets of Sjaligr were basically empty at this hour, and Mara kept her hood up to prevent being recognized, not that it really could with her crooked back and slight limp. The people here knew her too well. It was the problem with living in a city that was more of an overgrown town, where everyone knew everyone’s business. You couldn’t truly have a secret in Sjaligr, not without someone finding out within a fortnight. Still, they made it to the forge without drawing attention enough for trouble. 

Gaius pushed open the door to the forge for them. Already, heat radiated from the furnace. “I will find and distract Gareth,” he said. “I don’t know what the plan is to calm his ire, but it’s possible that your mother can persuade your father to put him in his place.” 

“Thank you, Gaius,” Mara said sincerely. For all his cold towards Aallotar, this at least meant he cared in his own gruff way. “We’ll stay out of sight.”

Aallotar hesitated at the door behind Mara, peering over her shoulder into the forge at the furnace itself. It glowed like nothing she had ever seen before, growing steadily brighter as it came more and more alike. Leaning over it, her hair swept back into a braid, was the lean figure of Mara’s mother, already smudged with coal and sweat from the heat. The smell of hot metal filled the room perpetually, but it had faded slightly overnight. Eirlys’s work would soon restore it to full strength.  

The sound of an iron stirring the fire from the left side where the coals were at their deepest sent a wave of relief coursing through the huntress. She stepped into the forge, catching Aallotar by the hand to pull her inside before the wildling could overthink anything. Meeting Mara’s kin was something of a nervous endeavor for someone who had spent almost their entire life in isolation. No doubt Gaius’s reaction hadn’t helped.

“It’ll be fine,” Mara promised quietly. She cleared her throat and raised her voice. “Ma—”

Eirlys spun at the sound of her daughter’s voice, dropping the iron she was using to stoke the fire. She closed the distance between them before Mara could even finish her word, wrapping her arms around the huntress in a death grip of a hug.

“You’re alright,” Eirlys whispered as she held Mara close, smoothing out the young woman’s hair with one hand. The relief and gratitude in her voice were enough to make the huntress’s vision blur with tears. “Gods, I was so worried.” 

Mara closed her eyes and leaned into the hug. The strength of her mother’s arms was intensely comforting despite the specter of danger in their future. “I always am,” she murmured. 

Eirlys drew in a deep breath and then reluctantly loosened her grip, resting her forehead against Mara’s. “That’s not always the case,” she said fiercely. “Blood and bone, I’m going to kill Gareth. Sjaligr is your home and I will see no one drive you from it.” 

“He hasn’t yet,” Mara pointed out with a sigh, rubbing along her jaw. All traces of his blow were gone, at least, though her mother had probably heard of her return with the oracle’s dark message already. “Has anyone else noticed me gone?” She wanted to ask if her father had even blinked at her absence or noted it in any fashion, but she doubted he had. 

“Plenty,” Eirlys said gently, giving Mara’s shoulders a squeeze. “Even your father asked me where you had gone.” 

Mara swallowed hard. “That isn’t like him,” she murmured, the knot in her stomach clenching tighter. She tried to force the worry out of her mind. “I have someone for you to meet.” 

“Oh?” Eirlys said, looking past Mara to a particularly anxious Aallotar. The huntress’s mother smiled warmly to set the wildling at ease. “Who is this?” 

“My new friend,” Mara said, a smile creeping across her face even though the anxiety was alive and well beneath. Her mother’s reaction was exactly what she’d been hoping for. “This is Aallotar. I met her further north.” 

“Well met,” Aallotar said stiffly, tension visible in every fiber of her being. 

Mara took a step back, putting a hand on Aallotar’s shoulder. “You’re alright,” she promised to comfort her friend. The wildling’s nerves had grown more and more agitated as they neared Sjaligr and Mara’s family, so this wasn’t unexpected. “No one’s going to hurt you.” 

“That was not worried,” Aallotar mumbled, relaxing slightly at the touch. She turned her face towards Mara, though she kept tabs on the older woman out of the corner of her eye. “I worry of you.” 

“Welcome to Sjaligr, Aallotar,” Eirlys said with approval in her smile. “I am Eirlys Silver-Song. It’s rare to see my daughter dragging a newcomer at her heels. I hope she’s been kind.” 

Aallotar took a hesitant step forward and relaxed slightly, though she still ducked her head to avoid meeting Eirlys’s eyes. After a lifetime of seeing eye contact as a challenge, Mara had no doubt that her friend was cagey for a reason. “Thank you,” the wildling murmured. “Mara is kindness itself.” 

“Good,” Eirlys said. She sighed slightly in relief, leaning against the nearest workbench. “So what adventure brought you our way? I don’t recognize your accent, so you must have come from quite a distance.” 

“Yes, far,” Aallotar confirmed. More hesitantly, she said, “To break a curse.” 

“A curse?” Eirlys said, looking to Mara for an explanation.

“Aallotar and her people are afflicted by some kind of magic,” the huntress explained. “Imprisoned in another form. I can interrupt it, but as soon as she’s far away, it comes back. You know more about magic than almost anyone in Sjaligr.”

“The key to curses are their roots,” Mara’s mother said thoughtfully. “Do you know why the curse was placed?”

Aallotar hesitated for a long moment, body slowly tensing again. “The mage who found me before Mara suspected my ancestors had angered the Life-Giver. How is unknown, but he thought it was a terrible act of violence in the days when the gods walked the earth.”

“It must have been considerable to afflict a whole people,” Eirlys said. More gently, she continued, “I’m sorry to hear that, Aallotar. If you’ll permit, I could try to examine your aura, but Mara would need to be a distance away. She negates magic, including auras and my ability to perceive them.”

Aallotar shook her head vehemently. “I do not wish that parting,” she said, nerves giving her voice a strained quality. “The curse pains me greatly.” 

Mara found her friend’s hand with her own, offering a comfortable squeeze. “I’m not going to force anything on you,” she said gently. “We can figure it out without that.”

Before Eirlys could reply, the door to the forge swung open, banging into the wall. There was no sign of Gareth, who was probably locked in a quarrel with Gaius, but Viljami stood in the doorway with thunderclouds in his expression.

“Storm-Born,” Mara greeted respectfully, lowering her eyes. She knew that look on his face: Gareth had told him of her supposed misdeed already, or perhaps he just hated to be so close to her.

His lip curled. “You are summoned,” he said with distaste. “Father has words for you.”

Eirlys pulled her gloves off. “Viljami, mind your tone,” she said fiercely. “Mara is your sister.”

Viljami’s sapphire eyes glanced at his mother, a combination of resentment and something more hidden flickering across his face. “She has no seat in the hall of my father. She is no sister of mine.”

Eirlys’s lips pursed into a thin line and she strode straight for her son. “She carries my blood, just as you do. Your father’s obstinacy will not change that,” the older woman said. Hints of heartbreak were visible in her expression. “Where is my little boy? I remember him in a fight every day when his sister shed tears. I see nothing of him in you.”

“I grew up and learned better,” Viljami retorted.

Aallotar gripped Mara’s hand tightly. “A kinslayer of the soul,” the wildling said with open contempt, stepping between the siblings. “Your spirit must be stained with shame.”

Viljami was taken aback by the sudden intrusion, but his eyes narrowed quickly. “You know nothing of what you speak, feral. The spell-breaker is no kin of mine.”

Aallotar’s golden eyes were fierce as she glared directly at Viljami’s face, no sign of submission to be found. “And a liar.”

Mara wrenched hard on Aallotar’s hand to pull her back from the coming tempest. “She’s a wildling, Storm-Bringer. She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Mara said quickly. “Hospitality—”

Aallotar stiffened at those words, flashing a glare back at Mara, and Eitlys stepped in to be the peacemaker. “Aallotar is here as a guest, Vil. We will honor our obligations as hosts.”

“Next time you speak so, wildling,” Viljami said in a low voice, “I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you. On a silver plate, worthy of any guest.” He turned his scowl at Mara. “I am to take you to Father and Gareth.” 

“Then we will go,” Eirlys said coolly, a mixture of anger, pain, and disappointment in her voice. 

Viljami hesitated for a moment at his mother’s comment. “Ma—”

“Don’t you dare. I am Lady of Sjaligr,” Eirlys said sharply, words a slap across his face. “I do not intend to take orders from my son, particularly when all he has room for in his heart is arrogance and cruelty. You may be Lord of Sjaligr someday, but not until I am in my grave.” 

Viljami looked away, a hint of shame on his face. It wasn’t often that he was rebuked by his mother, particularly in front of a stranger, mostly because he kept his interactions with Mara away from his mother’s eyes. “Fine,” he said brusquely, turning and striding out the door. “Follow.”

Mara took some comfort in the sharpness of her mother’s words. It would only feed the resentment, but in the moment it was protective and satisfying. Her brief comfort evaporated when Aallotar pulled her hand away.

“I knew what I spoke,” Aallotar said fiercely.

“I know,” Mara said quietly, a sudden pang of fear in her stomach. Her body tensed in preparation for a blow. “But Viljami would have killed you for an insult like that.”

Aallotar looked like she wanted to retort for a split second, but then she softened when she realized the amount of fear simmering under Mara’s forced calm. She reached out a hand, touching Mara’s shoulder. The huntress flinched at the contact. “I will not harm you,” Aallotar promised in a low voice.

“I know,” Mara lied, turning to follow Viljami and her mother.

Aallotar saw right through the lie and wrapped an arm around Mara’s shoulders. “This I mean,” she said more urgently as they walked, pulling Mara against her side. “You are dear. Never would I strike at you.”

The huntress nodded slightly. It was so hard to trust that promise.

“Nathæ, not even as the beast,” Aallotar whispered softly, squeezing Mara’s shoulder with one strong hand. “Trust me not to worsen your wounds as I trusted you to tend mine.”

Mara swallowed hard at that. She didn’t like remembering Aallotar’s wounds. “Alright,” she said, forcing herself to relax slightly. The dreadful future looming ahead pulled her from her thoughts. Whatever was about to happen, it was not going to be good.