Page 5

TRIG’S MOUTH PRESSED tight, his back tensed, and his eyes remained frustratingly void of emotion. Ever so slightly, his shoulders raised, then fell down again. An apology, maybe. A poor one. He wouldn’t find forgiveness in my face. If he looked too hard, he’d see the confusion, hurt, and numbness, but those weren’t things I wanted him to see. Since they were all I had to offer, I pulled away. I backed up, slowly at first, just until the prickly leaves of Móoir’s turnips scratched my ankles, then I turned and fled.

I ran from it all.

Branches slashed at my face until I reached the open beach, then it was the wind snagging at my hair and knocking against my chest until I was staggering along the rocks that led up the mountainside, losing my footing and my mind at the same time. I slipped and accidentally drove my side into rocks hard enough that it would cut, but I clamped my hand over the wound and kept going.

Even as my head was dizzy, I pushed on.

Even as my vision was blinded by tears, I pushed on.

Even as my breathing was shallow, I pushed on.

On and on.

Gods, I’d been thrilled to be the girl he called his. The splintered moonlight hit against the mountain as I turned upward, starting the trek between two peaks. I had little direction in mind other than away. Air rattled in my chest until I could hardly breathe. My side roared with pain from where I’d cut it on rocks, and with each step it burned harder.

Exhausted, I sank to my knees and broke down.

It was weak to cry over a boy, and I kept telling myself that, though it did nothing to slow the tears. The sooner I let myself cry, the sooner I could move on. I’d get these tears out and send the memories of him with them, letting everything flow away until there was nothing left inside me, then I’d throw myself solely into getting my shield. It would make me a stronger warrior.

Though perhaps a more heartless one.

I let myself cry for only a few minutes before I decided that was all he’d get from me. The tears stopped, and I watched the moonlight glide over the fjord in a silvery light, trying to stop thinking of him.

“You are stronger than this. Heartbreak won’t take you down,”

I whispered. I steadied myself and dried my cheeks, finding my courage growing with each passing moment, though as my anger died down, the burn in my side raged harder. I checked the wound. “Bleeding to death though, that’ll do it.”

When I brought my hand to it, my fingers came back sticky and red. The wound would need to be cleaned. I turned my gaze west, back to my home. I’d have to see my family there, and they’d all be celebrating Tova’s engagement. Faoir would be pouring the wine. Móoir would be stitching a dress already. And all my sisters would be at Tova’s feet, asking her questions and hanging onto every detail about how handsome she thought his eyes were when the firelight hit them. And Tova, she’d likely be holding the end of her braid for the last time, the thin one that rang along the side of her head. All Vikings in our clan wore braids like that, and we’d cut them off to give to our betrothed, who would weave the hair into their own. So you are never parted. She probably wore his hair already.

I sat back down. The wound wouldn’t kill me in one night. I’d sleep, and when I woke, I’d come up with a new plan for my future. I found a large pine tree with a break in the branches so I could hide under its protection and keep out of sight from any creatures who prowled the mountains at night.

I’d just settled my back against the sappy trunk when a shadow moved past. I flew to my feet. “You wouldn’t dare.”

My voice was a grumble from low in my belly, and the figure hesitated at the sound. But he moved forward anyway.

From behind the pine branches, Trig’s full figure came into view, with his head hung low in shame. “Hear me out?”

“I did. I heard as you told my sister how happy you would be with her. That’s quite enough for me.”

I stood, wincing as my side throbbed, and moved to go around him.

Trig stayed firmly.

“Let me by,”

I growled.

“I need to explain.”

His hand flicked like it might grab mine, but it didn’t. I pulled back. After seeing Tova’s hand in his, I never wanted him to touch me again. I checked his hair, but he hadn’t cut his braid yet. It didn’t bring me solace. “I talked to Faoir about you,”

Trig said. “I asked to marry you. But he didn’t agree with my choice.”

The silver hues of his eyes were brightened by the moon, and it made him look infuriatingly handsome. He wore his wolfskin shawl with his axe strung to his back, and had tied up his hair with twine at some point between seeing Tova and seeing me. I’d always told him I preferred it up.

Meanwhile, I was still in my sand and saltwater-stained tunic, now bloodstained as well, with flecks of my hair loose from the knots I’d wound to keep it away from my face as I battled Tova earlier.

I daresay I had the strength now to beat her in a fight. At least, I had the drive.

My leather pants were torn at the knees, my stomach growling with hunger, and I didn’t have to touch my skin to know my cheeks were marred with kohl from the tears.

It was pitifully unfair he showed up looking like that while I was a mess. I lifted my chin. “Why does it matter what your faoir thinks?”

I asked. “It wasn’t his choice to make. You made it on your own.”

“If it were so simple, I’d have married you already. But I don’t get to pick based on my heart,”

Trig said. He spoke dutifully. “I have to keep the clan strong.”

I winced. Was he trying to find as many ways to offend me in one night as he could?

“You don’t think I could make the clan strong?”

My words were sharp, and I hope they stung. A sliver of wind made it past his shoulders to hit my face, cooling the anger that heated it.

“Remember when the sheep went missing? Everyone else gave up looking after a few days but I traveled for weeks until I’d found them all and shepherded them home. Families didn’t freeze that winter because of me. When little Sigrid went underwater, I dove into the current after her and brought her back. When the Valley Clan attacked, I traveled miles to warn us, crawling when I had to. My body is weak, but I am not.”

Trig’s eyes squinted. “Tova brought the warning of the Valley Clan.”

My heart twisted. “I tore through the mountains for miles to get here before their warriors, and found Tova on the outskirts of the fjord. She brought the news for the last hundred meters, but got the credit because she rang the warning.”

It hadn’t bothered me that she got the credit before, because the clan was saved. But it bothered me now.

He sighed, and ran a hand over his head. “I don’t know what to say, Rune. Faoir thinks this is the wisest decision.”

The truth was there, but he was too weak to say it. “You think this is the wisest decision.”

He stiffened. “I’d have to fight to keep the position with you as my wife, and you know that.”

“You’ll likely have to fight anyway! Every chieftain gets challenged at some point. Tova can’t save you from everything.”

We were yelling at this point, and his chest puffed up.

His words sliced through the tension in the air. “Tova is the only way you’ll ever earn your shield.”

He did not.

A bitter silence followed. I gritted my teeth. When I spoke, it was in a low growl. “What did you just say to me?”

He licked his lips. “As my wife, Tova can grant you your shield. You need her.”

“Oh,”

I said in mockery as if I hadn’t thought of that. I put a hand to my chest. “I feel so much better now. Truly, I hadn’t realized how thoughtful you could be.”

I drove a finger into his chest. “You are not doing me a favor. You do not get to feel good about this.”

“I need to think of the clan. It’s my job as chieftain.”

“You aren’t even chieftain yet.”

“I might as well be.”

My emotions clouded my mind, and I drew my axe from its clip on my side. If being chieftain was so important to him, let him fight for it.

“In that case, I challenge you as chieftain.”

My chin lifted and our gazes met, colliding to snap against the tension in the air.

“Rune…”

Trig withdrew, pushing his back against the pine branches that still held us close beneath their canopy, and the shadows cast a dark look over his face. Through them, his brows were set low and his mouth in a firm line. He looked like the statue of Odin set at the front of the sacred grounds—with a stone-cold expression and a glint in his eye—as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and he was one breath away from cracking under it.

My traitorous heart softened.

I looked away. I always bent for others. Just this once, I wanted to live in this anger.

“I mean it.”

I held my axe up between my two hands, turned, and hacked through two branches. I tossed one to him. “I challenge you to a duel, first one to relent loses. If I win, I become chieftain instead of you. If you win, I’ll leave the clan.”

“You don’t have to leave. Just come back home and we will figure this out.”

“You think you’ll beat me?”

I hit my branch against his chest, shoving him into the open. The open air rushed into my lungs to clear my head, and I took in a whole gulp of it.

He followed me out from the canopy, holding his arms out. “I’m not fighting you.”

I shoved him again. Anger swirled in my chest, heating every inch of me. It used to be his touch that warmed me like this. Now my skin was on fire from the look of him, and it was a fire tinged with heartbreak. My words came hot and thick. “I challenge you. You have to fight.”

He dropped the branch. “I’m not fighting.”

I drove my branch into his foot. “Fight!”

“Rune, this is madness,”

he said louder. I heard the frustration growing.

“Do you respect me so little that you won’t take my challenge seriously? Pick up the stick and fight me.”

I swung my branch, slashing near his chest. The splintered end tore at his shirt and the fabric bloodied.

His expression darkened. So did his voice. “You cannot beat me. You know that.”

I swung again, and this time it knocked him from his feet.

He looked up with a glower, and I knew I’d won. He’d fight now.

Sure enough, Trig bent to grab his branch with two fists, and stood like a tower over me. “You’re going to regret this.”

“I’ll remember you fondly when I’m chieftain.”

He didn’t hold back. His first swing almost knocked me from my feet, the vibration of it running through my arms. I set my feet and braced better as I took the second swing. I didn’t swallow my emotions, but let myself feel every ounce of hurt as I shifted my entire weight forward to ram the branch against his. There was a crack. I thought from his branch and not mine. I hoped so.

He swung straight at me, giving me an easy place to block. But at the last moment he channeled his momentum down to tear the branch away from me. The bark clawed at the skin of my hands as it was ripped to the ground. In one piece, but not easy enough to grab before he swung again. His branch was already coming around.

I flew to the side, rolling out of the way. He was strong, but the one true advantage I had over Trig was speed. That’d be how I won.

My focus went into moving. I rolled to the side. I darted beyond his reach. I kept my feet in constant motion and never stayed in one place too long. When I’d drawn his attention closer to the pine tree at my side, I dove into the dense cover.

“Coward,”

he shouted. He swung anyway, letting his branch knock loudly against those in front of me. One of them snapped.

I grabbed hold and ripped it off. “Thank you,”

I said, now armed again.

He roared in anger. I’d seen Trig fight, and he always got to this point where he was nothing but anger and ferocity. It made his movements sharp but less precise. He’d swing, but if I stayed quick, he wouldn’t hit me.

I lunged from beneath the canopy and sliced my branch forward. He cut his upward. Mine tilted, and I let the opposing side jab at his unguarded stomach. He grunted as it impacted.

Something flashed in his eye, almost like fear.

Before I had time to dwell on that, he dropped his branch and threw himself at me, grabbing hold of my weapon with both hands and barreling me into the ground. Sticks dug into my back. My head slammed against something hard. My fingers tightened, but they were no match for his strength as he ripped the branch away and threw it into the trees.

He stayed on top of me, pinning me as I thrashed.

“Relent.”

His warm breath washed over me. His face was inches from mine.

I narrowed my eyes. “No.”

I jabbed with my knee. It must have hurt, but he hardly winced.

“Relent,”

he said again, this time strained.

I jabbed again.

This time he grunted, but still didn’t move.

“Give up, Rune. It’s over.”

He looked at me with such intensity that I stilled. There was a pleading in his eye, like he didn’t want to hurt me any further, but he would. For his place as chieftain of the Fjord Clan, he’d do anything, including hurt me.

I once thought it was him and me against the world. I was wrong. The world was not kind to people like me.

“I relent,”

I whispered, every syllable tearing at the seams of my heart.

He stayed there for a moment, his weight against mine, and his lips close to my own.

I turned my face away, and I felt him stand.

The night was silent as I dusted myself off, fetched my axe, and reclipped it to my back.

He stayed in the clearing with a broken look on his face. “I would have married you, you know? If there had been a way.”

My mouth formed a thin line. The fight inside me was dying. “You had a choice, and you made it.”

His expression split, and he looked away. When he spoke, his voice was cracked. “It’s too late now. Besides, Faoir wants to see Tova married so she can’t be one of the maidens picked by the gods in the Beckoning.”

I gave a dry laugh. “Tova is chosen by the gods, remember? They wouldn’t take her.”

Only unmarried, young mortals were taken for the Beckoning—a series of combats to the death as a sacrifice to the gods, in return for Odin’s immense blessing upon the clan of the victor. The gods themselves chose the mortals, snatching them from across the northern countries as they pleased. But the gods wouldn’t have marked Tova just to take her away.

“Still,”

he said. “We want to be certain.”

“That sounds like a wonderful reason to marry.”

I pushed past him, and this time he let me go.

“I’m sorry,”

Trig said behind my back.

I stood still, not turning around. “Just leave me alone.”

“Rune, you’re bleeding.”

His hand caught mine now, but I ripped it away.

“Your betrayal hurt a lot worse.”

That was dramatic of me, but I didn’t regret it. Let me have my theatrics. Gods knew I didn’t have much else. I didn’t have strength, I didn’t have my parents’ favor, I didn’t have Trig. I didn’t even have a clear picture of my future. All I had was a chipped heart, aching side, and dulled sparring axe.

Anger had controlled me moments ago, but it was gone now. Now, I just felt lost, and a little abandoned. I needed some time to find my way again.

I’d taken a few steps down the mountain when he spoke again. “In the morning, we plan to worship the gods to bless our future. It’d mean a lot to Tova if you came.”

Ten minutes ago, he said he would have married me if he could. Now, he wanted me to approve his bond to another.

A final tear slipped down my cheek. “The gods will either bless this marriage or they won’t. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

I tilted my head up to the cloudy, dark skies. “Besides, I renounce the gods.”