She’d never openly speak ill of the kingdom—or of anything, really—but that didn’t mean she approved of everything that happened here. Neither did I, but Tilda always managed to handle things with more grace and tact than I could muster.

“No, I don’t.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “But I won’t ever get ahead if I keep arguing with everyone.”

“Maybe you will,” Tilda said. “You’ve argued and fought your way to where you are now. Nobody wanted you to be a tracker, but you insisted that you could do it, and now you’re one of the best.”

“Thanks.” I smiled at her. “Speaking of which, I’m supposed to be shadowing Linus, so I need to fly through today’s workout. You wanna spar?”

“I think I’ll sit this one out, since the last time you gave me a fat lip,” Tilda reminded me, pointing to her full lips.

They had been briefly swollen and purplish last month when I accidentally punched her right in the mouth, temporarily marring her otherwise beautiful face. She’d never been vain or complained of the bumps and bruises we’d both get during our practicing fights before, but if she didn’t want to fight today, I wasn’t going to push her.

“Ember, you wanna go?” I asked.

“Sure. But you have to promise not to hit me in the face.” She motioned a circle around her face. “I don’t want any visible marks for my birthday party.”

I nodded. “Deal. Let’s go.”

SEVEN

estate

I’d moved out when I turned sixteen three years ago, and it still felt kinda strange going back to the house I’d grown up in. It always looked the same and smelled the same, but there were subtle differences that reminded me it wasn’t my home anymore.

My mom and dad lived in a cottage near the town square, and as far as cottages in Doldastam went, theirs was fairly spacious. It wasn’t as nice as the house my dad had grown up in, but that had been passed to the Eckwells after my grandparents had died, since Dad had given up his Markis title.

Mom had probably grown up in a nicer house too, though she didn’t talk about it that much. In fact, she rarely ever mentioned Storvatten except to talk about the lake.

As soon as I opened the door, the scent of seawater hit me. We lived over a half hour away from Hudson Bay, so I have no idea how Mom did it, but the house always smelled like the ocean. Now it was mixed with salmon and citrus, the supper she was cooking in the oven.

“Hello?” I called, since no one was there to greet me at the door, and I began unwinding my scarf.

“Bryn?” Dad came out from the study at the back of the house, with his reading glasses pushed up on his head. “You’re here early.”

“Only fifteen minutes,” I said, glancing over at the grandfather clock in the living room to be sure I was right. “Linus was sitting down for supper with his parents, so I thought it would be a good time to duck out. If I’m interrupting something, I can entertain myself while you finish up.”

“No, I was just doing some paperwork, but it can wait.” He waved in the direction of his study. “Take off your coat. Stay awhile.”

“Where’s Mom?” I asked as I took off my jacket and hung it on the coatrack by the door.

“She’s in the bath,” Dad said.

I should’ve known. Mom was always in the bath. It was because she was Skojare. She needed the water.

Some of my fondest memories from being a small child were sitting in the bathroom with her. She’d be soaking in the claw-footed tub, and I’d sit on the floor. Sometimes she’d sing to me, other times I’d read her stories, or just play with my toys. A lot of time was spent in there.

Fortunately, Mom didn’t have gills, the way some of the Skojare did. If she had, then I don’t know how she would’ve survived here, with the rivers and bay frozen over so often. The Skojare didn’t actually live in the water, but they needed to spend a lot of time in it, or they’d get sick.

When Mom stayed away from water too long, she’d get headaches. Her skin would become ashen, and her golden hair would lose its usual luster. She’d say, “I’m drying out,” and then she’d go take a long soak in the tub.

I don’t think that was the ideal course of action for her symptoms, but Mom made do.

“Supper smells good,” I said as I walked into the kitchen.

“Yeah. Your mom put it in before she got in the tub,” Dad said. “It should be ready soon, I think.”

Upstairs, I heard the bathroom door open, followed by my mom shouting, “Bryn? Is that you?”

“Yeah, Mom. I got here a little early,” I called up to her.

“Oh, gosh. I’ll be right down.”

“You don’t need to rush on my account,” I said, but I knew she would anyway.

A few seconds later, Mom came running down the stairs wearing a white robe. A clip held up her long wet hair.

“Bryn!” Mom beamed at me, and she ran over and embraced me tightly. “I’m so happy to see you!”

“Glad to see you too, Mom.”

“How are you?” She let go of me and brushed my hair back from my face, so she could look at me fully. “Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, right?”

“Nope. I’m totally fine.”

“Good.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her aqua eyes were pained. “I worry so much when you’re away.”