Well, she wasn’t wrong about that. But still, rushing water didn’t even have a negative effect on me, and I was terrified to get in there. Not only could I not see the bottom through the rapids and the ice floes, but I was sure the temperature had to be absolutely freezing.

A memory over a hundred years old came back to me. Some cocky kid trying to prove their manhood to the rest of the others by jumping into the half-frozen river and going into shock and drowning right after. Would being the stag keep me from dying? Or would it keep my body alive as a vessel and kill the part of me that was human inside of it? I had a feeling I didn’t want to know.

“Either way,” Diaval continued, “I have safety measures at hand. Rose, toss me the pack I handed you.”

Rosamund tossed the packed bag he had slung across his back, and Diaval caught it effortlessly. “What was in that anyway, rocks?” he said.

Diaval let out a small, mischievous smile. “Something like that.” She dug into the pack and pulled out a casing of thick leather rolled up as many times as it could go. She carefully placed the parcel on the ground and began to unroll the leather bindings until the roll was opened, and two wickedly sharp stakes peered out from view.

Immediately Soren, Seppo, and Rosamund took a step back. “You had me carry that?” Rosamund exclaimed.

Diaval examined the iron stakes with her bare hands, not even hissing in pain at the touch of the forbidden metal, and shrugged. “You didn’t die, now did you?”

“Pretty sure one of the unbreakable rules of the Permafrost is not carrying iron into the Permafrost on pain of death,” Soren muttered. “I mean, it’s not like I’m the king of the Permafrost or anything, so how would I know, but I have this hunch.”

“Impressive use of sarcasm,” I said, while simultaneously trying to hide my laughter at the childish tone of his voice.

“Thank you,” he said, the compliment thankfully distracting him from executing the king’s justice on Rose and Diaval. “I’ve been practicing.”

Diaval rolled her eyes and continued with her work. Sooner or later, she was going to get her eyes permanently stuck there.

If it were any other goblin, the iron would’ve burned right through her skin by this point, but Diaval wasn’t a normal goblin. Like Tanya said, she could do some amazing things but they all came with a price. In the time I had known her, I’d seen her handle iron, cross rushing water, take down wards, break oaths, and create in ways other goblins couldn’t. So much power that went against goblin nature itself. Whatever the cost, to her it must have been worth it.

“Janneke,” she said. “Can I borrow your axe?”