IRON AND ICE

CHAPTER 9

THE SILENCE AFTER THE SCREAM

The scream sliced through the palace corridors again—sharper, clearer, and unmistakably a woman’s voice.

Ragnar didn’t hesitate.

“Ingrid, stay behind me. Skaldheim—guard her with your life.”

Skaldheim was already moving, blade drawn, eyes burning with focus. “My life has belonged to her since the day she was born. Go.”

Ragnar sprinted through the corridor, Ingrid close behind despite his warning, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. The torches flickered wildly as if recoiling from whatever awaited them ahead.

Another scream.

A man this time.

Then—silence.

The kind of silence that felt like a hand closing around the throat of the entire palace.

Sten came rushing from the opposite hallway, guards at his back. “What happened? We heard—”

“No time,” Ragnar said. “Guest wing. Now.”

They all ran.

Walls decorated with tapestries blurred past. The cold stone floors seemed to pulse beneath their feet. Ingrid felt a cold sweat bead at her temples as her mother’s trembling face flashed in her mind.

Please be safe. Please be safe…

When they reached the guest wing, two guards lay unconscious against the walls—no blood, no wounds, just a strange glazed emptiness in their eyes.

Skaldheim bent over one. “They’re alive… but barely.”

Ragnar’s jaw tightened. “Forced into unconsciousness. No weapon was used.”

“Then he’s here,” Sten muttered, hand tightening around his spear.

Ingrid’s stomach twisted painfully.

Ragnar pushed open the door to her parents’ chamber.

The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of dying candles. The curtains fluttered from an open window. Cold air swept in, carrying the smell of pine and something else—something metallic and wrong.

“Hjarnheim?” Ingrid whispered.

Einar’s voice answered first.

“Ingrid. We’re here.”

He emerged from the shadows slowly, helping Hjarnheim who clung weakly to his arm. Her breathing was shallow, her skin pale. But she was alive.

Ingrid rushed to her mother, wrapping her arms around her. Relief nearly took her knees out from under her. “Mama… what happened? Did he come here?”

Hjarnheim shook her head faintly. “No. But… someone was at the window. I woke to the sound of whispering—soft, like wind speaking. When I stood, I fainted. That was my scream.”

Einar nodded grimly. “And when I tried to call the guards… they collapsed before they reached the door.”

“Not human,” Sten muttered. “No ordinary assassin can do this.”

Ragnar examined the window frame. His expression darkened. “Fresh splinters. Someone touched the wood recently. Someone watched.”

Skaldheim moved to the window as well, eyes narrowing. “Tracks below. Not deep… but careful. Someone light-footed.”

Ragnar turned to Ingrid. “It was him. The hunter. But he didn’t enter—he only wanted to send a message.”

Einar exhaled. “That he can reach us whenever he wishes.”

Hjarnheim gripped Ingrid’s hand tighter, her voice trembling. “There is more.”

Everyone turned.

“When I woke… I saw something on the floor.”

She pointed weakly to the bedside table.

Ragnar stepped forward and lifted a small object.

Another wooden disc.

But this one wasn’t like the others.

This one had two symbols carved:

The silver-pupiled eye… and a small flower beneath it.

A rose.

Ingrid froze.

Ragnar looked at her slowly.

“Ingrid… that symbol. It’s yours, isn’t it? Your rose tattoo.”

Ingrid’s breath hitched. “How would he know?”

Eirkog, who had arrived moments earlier, covered her mouth. “This is beyond assassins or hired hunters. This is someone who studies their prey.”

“Not prey,” Einar said quietly. “Chosen.”

Ragnar stepped toward Ingrid, lowering his voice so only she and Skaldheim could hear.

“He’s marking you. Watching you. Studying you.”

Skaldheim placed a hand on Ingrid’s back, a protective gesture. “If he wants her, he’ll have to carve through mountains.”

Ragnar nodded once. “And armies.”

Hjarnheim suddenly coughed, her body folding forward. Einar held her desperately.

Ingrid rushed to her side. “Mama?”

Hjarnheim’s lips were trembling, and her breath rattled. “I… I am alright. It’s just… the journey.”

But Ingrid wasn’t convinced. There was something deeper—an illness or a wound she was hiding.

Ragnar’s voice softened, but held urgency. “We need the palace healers. Now.”

Eirkog nodded and hurried away to summon them.

Sten began organizing guards outside the chamber, doubling the patrol.

But even with more men, Ingrid couldn’t shake the feeling that walls and swords weren’t enough.

The hunter had been close—too close.

As Ragnar gently helped Einar move Hjarnheim to the bed, Ingrid walked toward the window, staring out into the pitch-black forest below.

A cold wind brushed her cheeks.

And for a split second… she felt it.

Like someone was watching her from the trees.

Not moving.

Not hiding.

Simply observing.

I see you, the silence seemed to whisper.

Ingrid stepped back, heart racing.

Skaldheim was instantly at her side. “What did you see?”

Ingrid swallowed. “Not saw. Felt.”

Ragnar looked up sharply. “Felt what?”

Ingrid’s voice was barely a breath.

“Eyes.”