Today's 20 Days goody is a little different.
If you're reading Runemarked with us, today you've reached the moment when Mila asks the warriors to wait one more night before going off to war.
"Something dark is coming, so allow us all this night to remember what we fight for."
It's a huge ask, but at the same time, it makes sense. In a lifetime of fighting and hold ing their breath, Mila is asking Sylas and Thorne for one more night for everyone before their world erupts into chaos. At least, that's what she wants them to think.
Just like Sylas, Lucian, Thorne, and Arless are part of a MUCH larger picture with pivotal roles in the story to come, Mila plays a GIANT role in the series as well. Her request is all part of a larger plan for the series to come. A plan Sylas and the others won't start putting together until book three (I just wrote that scene, actually). But the reader does't know what that role is yet. And it was challenging to find a way to persuade Sylas and Thorne to listen to her when their warrior hearts know what they should be doing instead. So, I played on Thorne's Guilt for being absent for so many years. And Sylas's trust in his wife.
Here's a longer excerpt from the scene:
Every muscle in Sylas’s body coils, and I see the strategist taking over. “Then, we must prepare. We fortify the village and take our warriors south—head Barron’s soldiers off at White Ridge. We’ll have the advantage there. We’ll leave Ari and her shieldmaidens to protect Crowsgate. Lucian can command a warband in the hills.”
It’s a good plan, but Mila steps forward. She takes Sylas’s arm, and I see something in her eyes that makes my chest tighten.
“Can we not think of this tomorrow, after the celebration?” Her voice is soft. Pleading.
“There is no time,” Sylas tells her, taken aback by such a request. He looks at me for confirmation.
I shrug. I want to agree with Mila—gods, I want to give us all this one more night—but Sylas is right. War doesn’t wait, and it’s not worth the risk if we intend to protect our people.
Mila faces me full-on, and suddenly I’m twelve years old again, getting lectured by my sister for being insensitive or for cracking too many jokes.
She takes my hand. “Brenna waited four winters for you while you were in the Fjord Wars.” Her voice sharpens. “And she’s waited for you the past two summers while you’ve gotten your head out of your ass and finally asked her to be your wife.”
My throat tightens.
“I know you are a warrior first, and Brenna would hate me pressuring you, but don’t make her wait for something that might never come, brother—because if you go to war before your handfasting this time . . .” Mila’s voice breaks, and she shakes her head. “Give Brenna this, Thorne,” she whispers. “Please. She deserves one night with you. As your wife.”
Ice slides down my spine, and I grip her hand tighter. “Why do you say it like that, Mila?” My voice comes out hoarse. “Did you see something?” She’s always had a sixth sense about things, and murky as they might be at times, she’s rarely been wrong. I’ve learned over the years to heed my sister’s warnings.
She takes a step back, looking between us. “It’s a feeling, is all. Something dark is coming, so allow us all this night to remember what we fight for.”
The way she says it—the certainty and finality—makes my stomach churn. I want to press her and demand my sister tell me what she’s seen. But I know her too well. Visions or feelings, whatever she senses, are rarely uttered aloud, Mila always speaking in vagueness and riddles, as if giving them voice will ensure they come to pass.
*****
And if you're reading along with us, I want to know:
Would you have waited?
Runemarked is still free through tomorrow if you're just joining us. 🩸
