I return immediately to the jarl's house once I'm back in town. I suppose I've done enough adventuring for one day. 

When I enter the hall, I see Ulmar sitting in his chair surrounded by a council of other men. Henrik stands leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed; when I enter, his head turns to look. 

I feel a few pairs of eyes on me as I shut the door and slowly approach Henrik's side.

Before Ulmar sits a table with a large map upon it. Wooden figurines lay dispersed about the map and Sindri stands with his eyes firmly upon the document.

I nudge Henrik and whisper under my breath, "What's going on?"

He leans in to my ear and whispers, "We're trying to figure out a course."

"Which stones does Thorgrim already have?" one of Ulmar's men asks.

"Onyx, Garnet, and Amethyst," Sindri answers, "All found within a hundred-yard radius of one another."

"Do we know where exactly the stones were found?" I ask, stepping forward and catching the attention of Ulmar. His dark eyes dig into me critically, but he stays silent.

"No," Sindri answers.

I look down at the map upon the table. Sindri follows my eyes and points a bony finger at an X made in black ink.

"That's us," he says, "The Brandr are the red O."

The Brandr's colony lies further north along the coast. Their land is sanctioned off by a dashed red line, while the Ira is sanctioned off with black. 

"What is the terrain up there?" I go further, my mind returning to the words in the Book.

"Mountainous coast," one of the men behind Sindri answers, "There are many caves that lay within the mountains, and the Brandr carve out secret passages everywhere."

"Dirty bastards," another man steps forward, one with angry eyes and a scowl, "Why don't the gods just strike them down?"

A murmur escapes the mouths of a few men, but no one directly answers. My brows knit together and I return to the map.

"Onyx is found within the earth," I swallow, "Garnet is from the mountains, and amethyst is from the sea. They probably found their stones without even knowing..."

I raise my eyes to Ulmar, "If we're right to assume we're the only ones with a copy of this book, then they have no idea where else to look..."

"Do we have any stones of our own?" someone asks, making my eyes immediately jump to Henrik.

Henrik and Ulmar share a glance and then Ulmar clears his throat. Henrik's eyes drop to the ground and he shifts his weight to the other foot.

"No," Ulmar says gruffly, "We have none."

A strange feeling pricks me in the base of my gut and I force my eyes down sullenly. Either the stone in Henrik's room is a replica, or he just lied to his clan. 

"So we're already losing," the man with the angry eyes huffs.

"Not when we have the Book," I interject, "If I am correct, we have the only written source that talks about the stones. That's a huge advantage."

The one with angry eyes waves his hand at me and rolls his eyes.

"What do you know?" he scoffs, "Why is a woman even in this meeting anyway?"

I roll my eyes at him and look to Ulmar.

"Alva," Ulmar glared, "Silence."

Alva, the angry man, grimaces and shoots me a glare. I ignore him and wait eagerly for Ulmar to say something.

Ulmar's eyes find mine and he stands from his chair. 

"What should we do?" he directs his question at me.

I stammer for a moment, and in that moment some men jump to speak.

"You're letting her choose the course?" Alva screeches, "She's just a farm girl!"

"I agree with Alva, father," Henrik's voice rings from behind me, "She is not versed enough in sailing to know what to do."

I turn over my shoulder to send him the coldest, meanest scowl that I can muster. He notices, and raises his eyebrows.

"She could lead us straight to death!" another man exclaims, making the entire party erupt in angry comments.

Ulmar clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. For a moment, I think he's going to explode. 

"SILENCE!" he booms, his voice echoing off of the walls like thunder. 

The entire hall submits, and nothing can be heard. The jarl turns his glowing eyes to me and cocks an unkept eyebrow.

"Anything to offer?" he proposes challengingly.

I swallow, gathering my ideas and trying to hide the trembling in my hands.

"Are there any other neighboring clans that dislike the Brandr?" I ask.

"The Orn," Sindri answers, "They live further south. And they don't like us much either."

"But we can make an appeal to them," I continue, "We can ask them to help us find the stones and keep them out of the reach of the Brandr...."

No one says a word, even though I search the room for approval.

"That's our first step," I say sternly, "Go to the Orn, appeal to them, and get them on our side."

I look back to Ulmar, who hides the hint of a smile beneath his facial hair. 

"You heard the woman," Ulmar snaps at them, "Pack the ship for Orn. We leave tomorrow morning."

Without a word, all the men except Henrik and Sindri exit the hall. A flower of pride begins to bloom in the center of my chest, and I must force myself not to smile.

Ulmar turns back to his chair and flops down in it with a sigh. Over my shoulder, I see Henrik leave in the direction of his bedroom. A wave of anger washes over me and I follow him without a thought.

I follow him down the hall and, when he tries shutting his bedroom door behind him, I push my way in with a crude shove. 

I shut the door and wait until he turns to face me. He stands with his arms crossed, glaring at me unceasingly with his dark eyes.

"What do you want?" he hisses.

"What is your problem with me?" I erupt, "Why is it that whenever you get the chance, you call me an idiot?"

"Because you are!" he barks back, "You should've never come here. You're going to get yourself killed!"

I roll my eyes at him and laugh, "You would love that, wouldn't you? You would love if my plans blew up in my face. Then it would make you feel better about calling me an idiot!"

His brows furrow and he inhales to speak, but I cut in quickly.

"You like watching things blow up in my face," I say sharply, "That's why you didn't warn me about the branding."

My words lose some steam and I find myself suddenly wanting to cry. Henrik steps towards me and tries to take my arm, but I pull myself away from him.

"No, Aros already hurt me once today," I say, folding my arms behind me tightly.

Henrik pauses, "You've met Aros?"

I nod and swallow, "I was out in the forest and I ran into him while he was hunting."

"He hurt you?" Henrik's eyes soften as they scroll across me, looking for any signs of injury.

I force myself to relax and bring my wounded arm before him. As I roll up my sleeve, I speak, "He didn't know who I was, so he grabbed me by the brand..."

The two of us look at the wound, which is an angry red color and now has the faintest hint of the blistering yet to come.

Henrik frowns and returns his eyes to mine.

"It doesn't hurt as bad anymore," I say softly, "And your father allowed me to take a bath earlier, so I've been doing my best to keep it clean."

Henrik forces a close-lipped smile and takes a step back from me.

"B-But you still haven't answered my question," I continued, "Why do you hate me so much?"

The softness in his eyes vanishes once the question is out in the air. He combs his fingers through his hair in frustration and then crosses his arms over his chest.

"I do not hate you," Henrik frowns, "But I can't help but think you're going to get yourself into something you can't handle."

My brows knit together and feel more sadness than anger. 

"What you did for your father is all fine and good," he continues, "But you really shouldn't have done it. I don't think you can handle it."

The more he speaks, the further my heart falls into my stomach.

"I-I can," I breathe weakly.

He begins to approach me while speaking, "You'll only hurt yourself, Runa--"

I step away from him and jut my chin out. Our eye contact is sustained and cold.

"Call me Miss Öman," I respond frigidly.

His frown deepens and his hands drop to his sides. I take the knife from my side and hold it out to him.

"Here," I say, "I'll find my own."

Slowly, he takes the hilt and avoids my eyes. Once the knife is out of my hands, I take my leave of the room.

As soon as the door shuts behind me, an intense sense of dread overcomes me. Now, I never want tomorrow to come.