Page 18 of Midnight Sun
“Yes, Wessex knight. Now try to get some sleep. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”
Jamie leans back against the pillows, feeling drowsy and content.
“Good night,” he yawns, eyes already falling shut. Jamie looks forward to starting training. Somehow it has escaped Finn that he has plenty of experience with fight scenes. Jamie’s reputation as an actor is grounded in his solid skills in stage fighting and his performances are renowned. He’s dying to teach Finn a lesson about underestimating one’s opponent.
Angry barking jolts Jamie from his sleep. The room around him is dark and strange, and his heart begins to beat furiously. Where is he? Where is the light switch?
Jamie gropes around frantically in the darkness, his breathing picking up. What’s happening? Have they found him?
He falls off his bed, which is much narrower than he’s used to, and lands heavily on something solid.
“Ow, what the fuck? Snjór, hush!”
A mobile display lights up, and Jamie realizes where he is. He fell right on top of Finn, and now he’s splayed across his lap as if he were waiting for a spanking. Jamie can feel his face warm up. He struggles to get into a less compromising position, but his brain is still sleep-addled and his limbs don’t cooperate properly.
Finn props himself up on his elbows and looks at him with barely concealed amusement.
“Hello there. Did Snjór spook you?”
“Of course not,” Jamie replies indignantly.
Snjór lets out a deep growl and Jamie can’t help but wince. He rises into a kneeling position, awkwardly pushing himself up from Finn’s thighs. Jesus, the guy definitely didn’t skip his leg days.
“What’s got him so upset?” Jamie asks to distract himself from the panicked fluttering of his heart.
“I don’t know. Maybe there are some sheep out there. He is a sheepdog after all, and there are several herds out here over the summer.”
“Sheep?” Jamie can’t keep the horror out of his voice. The image of the ram mask is still fresh in his mind.
“Hey.” Finn’s gaze turns soft, and he puts a reassuring hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Shall I have a look?”
Hysterical laughter wants to bubble from Jamie’s lips, but he clamps them shut. No, he doesn’t want Finn to leave him and go stumbling around in the semi-darkness.
“I don't know. Splitting up is a very unwise idea in any horror movie,” he replies, only half joking.
Finn’s finger’s caress featherlight over Jamie’s shoulder.
“But this isn’t a horror movie,sæti. And there aren’t any serial killers in Iceland. Except Axlar-Björn but he lived in the sixteenth century.”
“How reassuring,” Jamie grumbles. He fumbles for his phone to glance at the time. 3 am. Jamie hates to admit it, but he’s scared. The inside of the cabin is dark, and judging by the dim light flickering through the blinds, it’s still that strange blue half-light outside. And then there are the noises. Now that Snjór has stopped barking, soft scratching and pawing can be heard in the otherwise silent room.
“Do you hear that?” Jamie asks, hating how small his voice sounds.
“Those are sheep.”
“Are you sure?”
“I spent half my childhood on a farm, remember? Yes, I’m sure. We can go outside and have a look at the herd if you like.”
“No, thank you.” Jamie puts all of his acting skills into sounding bored. And he knows he succeeded. He sounds as dismissive and aloof as ever. But Finn sits up taller and shifts a little closer, anyway. He isn’t buying it. How does he manage to see through all of Jamie’s carefully crafted defenses when no one else can?
“At least we aren’t dealing with trolls, so you mustn't worry.”
A small smile curls Jamie’s lips.
“Your scent repels them, I suppose?” he says in as dry a voice as he can muster.
“They can’t walk under the midnight sun, Wessex knight. They would turn to stone.”