“Go pack and get the things you need,” Ridley instructed me. “I’ll talk to Tilda and the King and get everything arranged. When I’m finished, I’ll meet you at your place, and we’ll head out.”

EIGHT

skirmish

What had started as light snow an hour ago had switched to an icy sleet that sounded like pebbles hitting the windshield. To Ridley’s credit, he slept through it—his head lolled to one side, bouncing along with the Land Rover as it navigated the worsening terrain of the back roads.

It was over twenty hours into our journey to the mythical and possibly nonexistent Lake Isolera, which had begun with an awkward train ride during which we both struggled to fill the silence by inspecting maps of Ontario.

Before we left, I’d borrowed a Skojare book from my mom. She kept a few artifacts from her past life in Storvatten, and this was a book of fairy tales that her beloved grandmother had read to her. It had a few poems and stories that mentioned Lake Isolera, and since that was the only thing we had to go on, I took it.

On the train, Ridley had read the stories about the lake aloud. They had a tendency to switch between English and Swedish mid-sentence, and his pronunciation was much better than mine. Out of the five tribes, the Skojare were the most isolated, and therefore, most attached to the ways of the old world—including the original language of all the troll tribes.

“Through the trees and past the slinggrande flod, in the depths of snow that no human would trod,” Ridley read aloud. “There is a land of trolleri and beauty, the most wonderful place that ever you’ll see.”

I closed my eyes, listening to the comforting baritone of Ridley’s voice. When he was reading from the book, he spoke like he normally did—no hint of anger or unease. My chest ached with regret and longing. He was so close to me. Our arms brushed up against each other on the armrest. But he was still so far away.

If I looked up at him, I would see an icy wall in his mahogany eyes where once there had only been warmth.

All I wanted was to take back everything that had happened—not telling him about Viktor right away and even kissing him. I just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be between us, but I didn’t have the words to erase what had happened. So I just closed my eyes and listened to him read.

Once we’d picked up a rental car at the train station, things had actually gotten easier. We needed to take turns driving, and Ridley had offered to take the first shift. I hadn’t slept well, but at least it wasn’t tense or weird that we weren’t speaking.

I’d taken my shift a few hours back, and Ridley had been sleeping soundly the whole time. Most of the drive had been easy and relatively uneventful, but gradually the clouds had moved in, growing darker and blotting out the sun. Then the snow had begun, which wasn’t bad when compared to its icy counterpart that pounded down now.

The windshield wipers could barely keep up at this point. The SUV slid on a slick patch. I managed to catch it before we went off the road, but it jerked hard when it hit a dip on the pavement.

“What’s going on?” Ridley asked, waking up with a start.

“Everything’s okay.”

He sat up straighter, blinking back sleep, and looking out the window at the mess the sky was pouring down on us.

“Do you want me to take over?” he asked, eyeing my hands gripped tightly on the wheel.

I shook my head. “No, I’ve got it. You just woke up.”

And at that moment, the Land Rover decided to skid again. It wasn’t bad, and I recovered easily, but it hadn’t eased Ridley’s concerns.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because I got plenty of sleep, and I’m feeling alert now.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I insisted. “Besides, I think we’re getting close.”

He waited a beat before adding, “Because sometimes you say you’re sure, and you’re not.”

“What are you talking about?” I gave him a sidelong glance, since I didn’t want to take my eyes completely off the road. “I never say I’m sure unless I am.”

He laughed dryly. “Whatever you say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“It means…” He ran a hand through his wavy, sleep-tousled hair. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“But you did.”

Ridley let out a long breath. “It’s just … you sure kissed me like you meant it, and then you told me that you didn’t.”

At first I was too stunned to say anything. I couldn’t believe he was even bringing it up. Finally, I managed a plaintive “That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, Bryn,” he muttered dryly, and for some reason that set me off.

“You kissed me like you meant it too,” I shot back. “And you have a girlfriend!”

“Juni’s not my girlfriend,” he nearly shouted, shifting in his seat. “We’ve gone on a few dates is all.”

I scoffed. “That’s bullshit, Ridley.”

“And it doesn’t matter,” he said, instead of arguing my point. “You’ve made it perfectly and repeatedly clear that you have no interest in dating anyone ever, so I don’t know why it bothers you if I’m seeing someone or not.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Do whatever you want.”

He mumbled something, but I didn’t ask what. I just let him lapse into silence and stare out the window, not that there was much to see. The sleet was coming down so heavily that visibility was completely shot.