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But she didn’t look like someone brimming with gratitude and thanks. Of course she wouldn’t be. I hadn’t expected her thanks and praise.

So whathadI expected?

Politeness, I supposed. So much for that.

I was about to close the still-open door when she turned to face me, halting me in my tracks. She fixed her fire-eyes on mine and lifted her chin. One breath—like she was preparing her words—and I stood taller, ready to meet whatever she threw at me.

She spoke slowly.

“Get, out.”

All I could do was stare. After a long exhale, I crossed my arms. She stared right back, making no move to temper what she’d said. I glanced at my things, then back at her. Baer would be furious. He’d chew me up and down. I wouldn’t hear the end of his ire if I left this hut and tried bunking somewhere else.

But Fenli—she looked like she might just rip out my throat.

Finally, I uncrossed my arms and got to work rolling up my bed.

I’d have to take my chances with my father.

This one scared me more.

Chapter Three

Fenli

Shit, I was in so much trouble. They were sure to give me hell. They’d feed me to the wolves for this. Maybe put me on the first boat pointing towards Runehall’s clan and wash their hands of me.

But I’d done it. I’d looked him right in the eyes and told him to leave. The words, though they were slow, had been there for me.

And then he’d gone.

They were going to have my hide. He’d probably gone straight to his father. Baer had long past had enough of my defiance and would likely rage at my door soon. I hurried over and bolted the thing.

It wouldn’t be good enough.

“Shit.”

I didn’t know what I was doing, kicking him out. He’d never come home before, and I’d never had to figure this part out. Oh, I was making a mess of it now. There was a list of things they’d put up with from me, and I’d gone far beyond it.

I scanned the room, and my heart sunk at what I found. There on the table were all my mapping supplies, my secrets laid bare. All he needed to do was glance. The birch bark I made my early sketches on, the parchmentI’d traded with the Saik to get, straight edge, chalk, ink, and quills. I dug through the stacks, and every last one proved my guilt. Etchings of the coastline, another of the deer trails, the village, waterways, even the trek to the Saik laid out in detail.

Not a woman’s work, not even close.

Surely he’d seen.

I started grabbing evidence by the armfuls. Birch and parchment went under my mattress and at the bottom of my laundry sack, all my tools in the wall behind the loose board.

But even as I hid the things, I knew I’d been too late.

Damn my laziness. I should have been hiding them all along. I’d been too comfortable, thinking he’d never come back, feeling like the hut was mine. That had always been a lie. I’d known it, and I’d ignored it. The hut was my husband’s, given to me only because I was a married woman. I should never have made myself at home.

I shoved in the last bottle of ink and wedged the board back into place, wiping tears from my cheeks as I stood. On uneasy legs, I made my way to the fire and sat before it. In truth, I was waiting for the storm that was sure to come. I listened closely for the footsteps. Soon after, someone would bang on my door. They would demand that I open up, and there would be nothing to gain in refusing.

Only they never came. Eventually, I fell asleep there in my chair, the heat of the fire on my face.

When I dreamed, it was of my father’s clan.

There did come a pounding on my door, but it wasn’t until morning, and it was only Esska. Still, the dog barked like hell until he heard her voice.