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“I know who you are,” he heard himself say. She went stone-still. “I know why the queen is hunting you.” She tensed as though bracing for the words to come. “Your scar. I was with you when you got it, Eisa.”
Now panic climbed through her limbs. Run, her instincts told her once more. But some sliver of logic reminded her Rey would only chase her down.
“You’re a Volsik!” continued Rey. “Don’t you understand what that means?” Manacles, she thought. Another cell. Her choices taken from her.
Rey had known Silla was worthy of protection. He’d thought her one of the last good things in this cursed kingdom.
“Krasavitsa,[*1]” he said, tilting her jaw up with gentle pressure. “Dolgo ya zhdal.[*2]”
And then their lips brushed against each other. Saga was hot and cold all at once. And for one infinitesimal second, she was lost to this world.
Alone again, in her place of safety, Saga allowed herself to smile. She’d had a moment of freedom. And in that moment, she’d chosen, of all people, him.
“What was it you told me, Axe Eyes?” she gloated. “Ah yes. You must learn to react swiftly and without mercy.”
“You like it when I tell you what to do, Sunshine?” His voice rumbled through her, and she felt it in all the places they touched. “Well guess what?” With a ruthless burst of speed, he flipped her onto her back, pinning her to the ground with his hips. “I like telling you what to do.”
“Just tell her you want her to stroke your axe.” “Shut your mouth, Vig, or I’ll do it for you.” But Vig was only getting started. “Tell her you want to raid her shores.”
And in that moment, Silla could only think of that cell in Kopa, the kommandor with his tapestries woven from human hair. She wouldn’t. Go. Back.
“What I know, Galtung, is that nowhere in this kingdom is truly safe for me. I can keep running, or I can take matters into my own hands. I must learn my galdur.
“You wanted to hold my hand,” he said sleepily. “I what?” “The day you earned your scar. Two-year-old Eisa wanted to hold my hand while walking on Sunnvald’s fountain.” “You must have been appalled.” “Disgusted,” Rey agreed. “But then you fell…” He exhaled. “And I felt such a fool, so prideful that I let harm befall you. When you cried, I carried you into the castle and found the healer. And while they stitched you up”—he paused, gathering himself—“I did not let go of your hand.”
“And you,” said Rey fondly, “have always lacked common sense.”
The last thought Silla had before falling into slumber was that even after eighteen winters, she still very much wanted to hold this man’s hand.
Was the light playing tricks, or was she always this gods damned beautiful?
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“Valiant,” repeated Vig with a broad grin. “I think I like that. Valiant Vig of the mountains, protector of goats and curly-haired women.”
“You deserve sweet, Silla. You deserve kind. You deserve to be worshipped and respected and treated right.”
“Show me,” she whispered. “And I will show you—the man who is so busy caring for others, he forgets about himself. Let me show you what it means to be cared for.”
Her eyes met his in silent challenge. “You’re running out of excuses, Galtung. Tell me why else I shouldn’t want you.”
Didn’t matter that they should be all wrong for each other. Kissing him was like the first spring day after a long, brutal winter. Like finding one last sweet roll hidden in the bottom of the basket. It was like all the hearthfire thoughts she’d ever had combined.
Silla responded with such enthusiasm, lust and amusement battled within him—it seemed the obstinate woman didn’t mind being told what to do after all.
“I want them all, Rey. Your smiles. Your laughs.”
“What are you hiding down here?” she asked, scooting back on his thighs. Her eyes met his. “They feed you something special in the north?” And with that, she pushed his breeches down to free him.
“Let me make this clear to you, Silla. There is nothing uncertain in how I want you.”
“I wanted you on Longest Day when you came out in that dress,” he said, voice ragged. “I wanted you when you pushed me across the field on the way to Kraki’s. I wanted you when you killed the vampire deer, when you blackmailed me, even when you tried to steal my gods damned horse. I’ve wanted you since the night you stormed up to me and told me I couldn’t frighten you away. That was it for me, Sunshine.”
“When you’re a child, you think adults know it all. But then you grow old, and you realize the truth. We’re all bumbling fools.”
“I cannot go back in time and be there for Kristjan. But I can be there for you.” Harpa swallowed. “I want you to be happy, Reynir. You deserve to be happy.” Her gaze fell to the bed. “She is good for you.”
“Knowing you, I’m certain it would have an animal included. The Frothy Fox—” “The Cheery Chicken!”
“You mustn’t think badly of them,” Runný added. “Fear can make even the largest warrior feel small.”
Anger is such a burden to carry. There is peace to be found in surrendering it.”
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“You make me happy, Sunshine—so damned happy it terrifies me.
But the thought of losing you terrifies me even more. I want this. I want you…us.” Rey paused. “And if you never want to be Eisa, it won’t change how I feel. If you wish to rest, I will shield you from harm. If you want to fight, I will draw my sword beside you. If you want a hundred chickens, I will build you a hen-fortress.”
“Perhaps we can be frightened together.”
“I will say the wrong thing often. I’m not a sensitive man. I’ll trample you without meaning to,” he admitted. “But know that I will fight for you, Silla. For you, I will work to be softer, to be a better man.”
“Tonight, Lord Rurik, you will have the honor of drinking from King Kjartan’s skull.”
Oh that is so fucked up 😭😭😭😭😭😭
All of it felt strangely distant. Another girl in another time, fleeing from the monstrous people who’d killed her father and now drank from his skull.
She cried for the girl she’d been before that day—for the thin flame of hope she’d sheltered inside herself. Back then, there had been happiness. There had been hope that she could make a life for herself amid the wreckage of her past.
The man who’d branded her body and called her property would soon be her husband.
Saga was scared but sure. In a moment, she’d be free. She’d stretch her wings and fly from her cage. No one could hurt her where she was going. No one would ever hurt her again. She smiled, a strange sense of peace settling into place.
I’m sorry, Eisa, she thought. This is the only way to find peace. I love you and will see you again among the stars.
’Tis better to die one large death than a thousand small ones at his hand.
She’s a liar.” “I know she’s a liar. She’s my liar, though.”
“Here are your options,” Silla continued. “Ride back down that trail or become food for the ravens. I can see you think yourself quite clever. But hear me now, Jonas: A hungry wolf is bound to wage a hard battle. And we, the Galdra, are starving.”
Inside the cage was a flock of winterwing birds. A part of herself, caged away for all these years, waiting for Saga to free it.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “For never making me feel like a burden.”
