I nodded, knowing full well my heart was in my eyes, not caring if I looked foolish.

I knew what I wanted. I wanted Torden to propose to me, to take him home to meet my father, to show him the place that I loved. To love him as long as I lived. If only he’d ask.

“Finished?” Aleksei’s arms were crossed, one long, skinny leg jiggling impatiently.

“She’s back at the fortress?” Torden asked. The other boy nodded wordlessly. “See that Selah gets back to the bonfires, would you?”

Aleksei bobbed, rolling his eyes. “Would you just get going?”

Torden gave my hand a squeeze before he took off through the woods. I watched him jog off, feeling forlorn.

Aleksei sized me up. “So.” He barked a short, humorless laugh.

“So.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets, ignoring the edge in his tone. “Why did Dronning Rihttá need Torden?”

Aleksei picked up the lamp. His hair was black as pitch, his skin ghostly white beneath its glow. “Selah, you’ve heard Baldr’s and Hodr’s names whispered here and there since you arrived.”

Disquiet unfurled in my stomach, like blood twisting faintly in water. “Yes. They passed away last year, didn’t they?”

“Yes and no,” Aleksei said. “Baldr died last Midsummer’s Eve in a horrible accident.”

“He died a year ago—today?” I stared at him openmouthed, stumbling over a fallen log, my words faltering as my feet did. “And you pushed the king and queen to throw a party?”

Aleksei’s voice was sharp. “People expected it. Tradition is important. Keeping up morale is important.”

“Dronning Rihttá and her son are important,” I said, my voice likewise carrying the hint of a barb. I shook my head. “H-how did it happen? Where’s her other son?”

“Baldr and Hodr always wanted to look for mistletoe on Midsummer’s Eve. They said the wheel trundling was for kids,” Aleksei said. “Hodr was a skinny, clinging little thing. Idolized Torden and Fredrik. Baldr would wake up screaming and sweating and thrashing around from nightmares. He worried Dronning Rihttá, so she tried to keep Baldr close, protect him,” said Aleksei. “But what twelve-year-old can endure that?”

A bush off the path covered in thorns dug at my skin. I winced, swiping at the blood that rose on my forearm. “And?” I asked, feeling sick.

Aleksei wet his lips. His eyes were liquid in the dark. “They took off on their own last year when no one was watching,” he finally said. “Baldr probably fell twenty feet out of that pear tree. Hodr didn’t know what to do.”

My lungs turned to stone. “They were out in the forest alone?”

Aleksei ignored me. “Hodr couldn’t see very well during the day, but at night he was totally blind. He heard something hit the ground, and he knew something was wrong when Baldr didn’t answer him.”