A Queen Named Victory

Chapter Thirty-Two

Grendel's POV

Salty mist kissed the edges of the warship. Sigrid watched the moon's reflection on the waves. She sat deep in her thoughts, unable to sleep. The rocking boat had not bothered her.

"You should be resting," I said, sitting beside her on the deck panels.

"And you?"

I leaned my back against the ship wall. Sigrid nestled onto my chest, and she listened to my heartbeat. "Commanders don't need rest." She toyed with a loose thread on my tunic, thinking of what to say. She wrapped it around her finger.

"Then I don't have to worry about sleeping."

"You aren't commanding the fleet."

"Let's agree to disagree," she said while patting my chest softly. The cloud blankets shifted westward, revealing the waning crescent and stars. It was an endless sky without a border. It had been years since I last enjoyed a sight like this. Sigrid's grip tightened when the ship hit a rough wave. Few soldiers stirred from their slumber as water splashed onto their faces. The night rowers heaved their oars, unphased by the ocean.

"Why did you agree to take Tolkniat in the first place?" Sigrid's curiosity won the battle between her thoughts.

"I need another army."

She doubted me as she imitated my casual tone, "and I need more dresses. What's the real reason?"

"I'm more interested in knowing why you changed your mind on taking Tolkniat."

She shrugged, "I like fighting." Sigrid rolled onto her back to stargaze. She lifted her hand to the sky with her pointer finger, and little finger stretched to map the passing constellations. We laid together beneath 'the great wagon,' as Sigrid recalled. I knew it as the ancient one: the Mother Bear. Its seven stars flickered brighter than the rest, and our breathing slowed as one. She slowly lowered her arm to my chest.

"I told you so," I murmured, slowly drifting into a sleepy daze with her in my arms.

"His Majesty, Tolkniat's ahead," Aktak's voice called to me.

"But we have a problem, sir," said the front-rower with slight hesitation.

I moved Sigrid down on the bundled furs, pulling the wool blanket up to her shoulders before I headed to the bow. My soldiers rose from their slumber with curses to the ocean for soaking their attire. I stopped beside Gordesh—who snored like a hibernating bear—and lightly kicked his shoulder with a quick, "Get up." He was not about to wake my wife with his beastly grunting. Aktak waited for me to stand beside him before he pointed outward to the land.

Our future seaside castle was a shadowy mass, unlit by castle torches and surrounded by the moon's casted shadows. Massive waves crashed against the cliff walls. Deinoth let his kingdom fall to shit. What a shame. But something stood out. A hazy glow from the opposite side of the castle lit snow-covered hills.

Those mother fuckers.

"It's the frost fey, sir."

"Frost fey?" Sigrid said through a yawn.

"Wait. What the hell?"

Ivar made a grab at Tolkniat. No, something was missing. In all the years of their existence, the Ice Fey isolated themselves to avoid war. The king before my father took their lands without the slightest resistance until Ivar's grandfather took the reigns. Still, they were not offensive fighters.

"We need to know how many of them there are," said Sigrid.

"I need to make it to land to use my magic. By then, we'll lose the element of surprise."

She jerked her head to the sky, forming an idea that I already did not like. "No," I said before she spoke. She raised her brows to give me her nobody-orders-me-around face. "I know a part of the deal was to stay with you, but this once, can you trust me?" I raised my hand to pinch my nose bridge.

"Let me think this through."

"You're acting ridiculous," she said with an exasperated sigh. I grabbed her hand to stop her from doing whatever naive idea she had in her head. "This is why you should have stayed in Montver. Damn it." Sigrid angrily pulled her hand from my grip. She stomped her way past our troop, who did their best to give us privacy by watching the waves. "Sigrid! Get your ass back here now!" My wife burst into sparkling moonlight. A flying crow took her place, soring into the sky toward the castle.

"Ready yourselves, soldiers," I bellowed. Sweat dampened my palms. The all too familiar rush of adrenaline kicked my heart into a steady race. Damn that woman's mulishness.

"Fuck," I growled as I slammed my fist onto the rail, splitting the wood. The worst part of it all was that she was right. I could not use my magic to disguise myself as a damn bird, and neither could my soldiers.

Sigrid disappeared past the castle, far from our view. It is not that I did not trust her. In truth, she had the power to take down the whole kingdom if she wanted to, but it was her inexperience that worried me. Sigrid had no idea what occurred within Tolkniat's walls. She went in blind under the illusion that she knew all there was to know about the art of war when she knew nothing at all. Her brashness opens doors for mistakes, which we could not afford at a time like this.

"Sir! A note from the Queen!"

Sigrid's magical illusion of a bird dispelled into a white puff of smoke when I snatched the small parchment from Gordesh's fingers. Her patchy handwriting decorated the back of the note:

Intercepted this. Hundreds of frost fey stationed. I have no clue what it says. I'm safe.

I flipped the note to the other side where the curved writing neatly read:

Montver arrives on the night of the waning crescent. Proceed with the plan as advised by His Majesty.

"Bring me the spies," I ordered.

Rande and Heilu brought the trembling Tolkniat moles—two men and one woman chosen from each Tolkniat class—before me. They watched me unsheathed Sangyr. "One of you will face my judgment." Their eyes followed my boots with each step. Sangyr reflected their terrified faces.

"If one does not speak, then all will die."

I waited but received no response.

I stopped in front of the shaking woman. Her cat tail flicked by her leg, and she flinched when I spoke. "Waxing crescent." I took another step, halting in front of the elder man from a noble family. He lifted his gaze to my grip on my sword's hilt. "Full moon," I stated, passing him. The last man barely opened his mouth before my blade burst from the back of his neck. Blood spurted onto the ship's oak panels. Aktak heaved his body over the rail as I wiped my blade clean.

"Bring out the Henbane mead! We're going to war!"