Page 7 of The Barbarian’s Claim (Not-So-Savage Barbarians #4)

Seven

EINAR

H is words trembled, not from fear, but from something he could not explain.

I could see it on his face when I asked.

He didn’t know the answer, only that it wasn’t always this way.

His cheeks were pink with embarrassment over his condition, which was probably why he refused to even try.

Better to stay silent so no one else knew.

“You need not hide it from me. I will not shame you for it,” I murmured, turning my focus back to our food. I would need to get vegetables from Yamileth, but I had the things needed to make bread. It wasn’t much, but I preferred it.

For a long while, he was quiet, but it didn’t feel as though he was upset.

He relaxed after I stopped asking him questions and seemed content to watch me and stick close, resting his chin on his knees.

When I started preparing the fire for cooking, he sat up, looking at me curiously.

I knew he wanted an explanation, but if he struggled with words, he probably needed more practice.

Everything in life required practice. I decided that so long as we were alone, if he wanted to ask a question, he would use his words.

He shot me a questioning look, and I raised my eyebrow at him, waiting. He bit his lip, his brows drawn together, and it took him a moment to find the words.

“W-w-wh—” He sighed, and a small whimper escaped him. When he looked at me, it was with a pleading expression, begging me not to force him.

“Try again. Take your time. We are in no hurry.”

I was not normally this patient, but I knew what it was like to be seen as different by others. People could be cruel. I refused to do that to him or anyone else just because they weren’t like me.

He tried again, taking a deep breath first. “W-w-what are you d-doing?”

Tipping my head toward the Y-shaped branches I’d stabbed into the ground on either side of the fire, I explained. “I will turn the korzak over the fire to cook it evenly. The sticks hold it over the flames, and a small pot goes underneath to catch the drippings for later.”

I wasted as little as I could while hunting. Everything had a purpose. A use. Even the parts of the animal I could not eat could be used to lure prey for the next hunt. While I prepared the bird for cooking, I looked over my shoulder at him.

“What of my mother tongue?”

He bit his lip, dropping his gaze. I’d heard of some tributes refusing to learn.

They purposely made life more difficult just to spite their protectors.

That image didn’t suit him, though. He was eager to comply when asked to do something.

I couldn’t see him fighting learning the language, even if it was difficult for him to say the words out loud.

“I-I’m t-t-trying,” he murmured, almost low enough that I could not hear. There was a tremor that wasn’t just his difficulty with speech, and I could see the tears in his eyes as he said, “I-it’s h-hard.”

I hummed my acknowledgment. It had been hard to learn the common tongue.

I hadn’t been taught as other warriors were by the clan.

I had to learn while traveling alone, as I sometimes ran into townsfolk who meant harm to me.

It was a companion who asked to travel with me to another town in exchange for coin that taught me.

I was not a good student. Only his persistent encouragement kept me from giving up entirely.

And his offer to suck my cock every time I had a full conversation with him.

Glancing at the tribute out of the corner of my eye, I considered that option. I had not lain with another in a long while. But then I remembered what Uttin had said. The tribute was here for a bondmate. I could not offer him that, and I did not want to make him think otherwise.

I left him alone after that. He’d explained as much as he was able, and I understood better why he was so quiet.

Perhaps, with time and encouragement, he would gain back his voice.

Only the goddess knew for sure. And I would worry about him learning my language later.

He was supposed to be learning with Finn.

Whether or not he was speaking it, he should have been able to understand. The lessons weren’t working for him.

He seemed surprised when I shared the korzak with him. I often ate my own meal separately from him, so this didn’t surprise me. He seemed pleased with it, though, and his face was relaxed and happy as he ate. He only lost that brightness when Rath came to speak with me, his bondmate at his side.

“Brother,” he greeted politely with a nod.

I grunted in response. I wasn’t known to be chatty. It was why the tribute and I got along thus far. Though my reasoning was more simple than his. I just didn’t care to put in the effort. I had better things to do than stand around and chat.

“I’ve come with a request,” he said without prompting. His bondmate looked nervously between me and him, clinging to his side like my tribute did when he was overwhelmed.

For a moment, I considered walking away. Too often now, my brothers had been showing up with requests. I was used to them avoiding me, and I’d grown accustomed to it. I wasn’t pleased that they were coming around now.

“What?” I growled, tearing apart the rest of the bird for later. Now that I had a tribute, I could not leave like I wanted to. He couldn’t be left alone.

“I need a bow made for Finn. He is to learn to protect himself. I still have the one I traded you for. You are the best. Better than Kes. I will make trade for it.”

Kes made the bows for the clan, but he used the wrong wood to do it.

They didn’t warm as easily and broke often.

My bows were better. I considered his request, and my gaze drifted to where my tribute sat, his eyes on the ground as he avoided joining the conversation.

I could teach him myself, but I was not known for my patience.

Lessons with Rath, who was the strongest hunter of the clan, would be beneficial.

“I will trade. A bow for your Finn, in exchange for lessons for my tribute. He will learn to hunt.”

As we spoke in our mother tongue, I knew my tribute did not understand. He looked up when I said tribute, but his confusion was clear on his face. He was not able to follow along.

Turning to the couple, I narrowed my eyes on Finn. “And lessons alone for his language. He is not yet understanding.”

Finn looked surprised; he obviously hadn’t noticed the tribute struggling, and worry soon followed. I paid him no mind, raising my eyebrow at Rath. “Do we have a deal?”

Rath glanced at my tribute for a moment before nodding once. “Deal. After the bow is made, you can bring him to me for lessons. Finn will discuss with Matthew about their language lessons in private later.”

Several times, I’d heard the tribute’s name. I’d ignored it before because I didn’t care to get too close to him. He was only with me temporarily. But it was obvious after the night prior that he would be with me longer than I’d originally intended. I would need to use his name now.

MATTHEW

“Matthew.”

My head jerked up in surprise. I had been cleaning the bowls we used after a meal when Einar said my name. I had never heard him use it before. The few times he spoke to his clanmates, the only word I understood that he used regarding me was tribute. I wasn’t entirely sure he even knew it.

He dropped a bag beside me, jerking his chin at me. “We will journey into the forest. We will be gone a few days. Pack the clothes I got you.”

Einar had grown stubborn since I admitted my struggle with speaking a few days prior.

If we were alone, he wouldn’t answer any questioning looks I gave him.

He made me ask him instead. It was frustrating sometimes, but he never rushed me or got angry with me for it.

After a few days of this, I felt safer to try.

“W-w-what f-for?”

“Wood. I will make a new bow for you, and one to trade with Rath.”

That made me curious. I dried my hands and followed him into his tent, packing the clothes he got me. The barbarians didn’t change clothes daily like in town, so I didn’t need many, but if we were going to be gone a while, having extra would be a good idea.

Einar packed clothes, as well as more weapons and a few tools. I also saw him pack a small bag of spices, which made me smile. He was particular about his food. I’d noticed that after we spent some time together. I wasn’t sure anyone else had realized. It felt like a little secret only I knew.

After he was through packing, he handed me a few things to put in my bag. A wrapped loaf of bread, some bandages, which made me a little nervous, worrying about why we’d need to carry that around, and?—

“A r-rock?” I asked because the rest made sense. This didn’t.

He grunted. “You are strong. It will make you stronger. Put it at the bottom.”

I gaped at him, but he disappeared out of the tent without another word.

I guessed I was going to be carrying around a rock.

And not a small one either. It was heavy, a bit smaller than my head, and I was pretty sure he’d taken it from the circle of rocks that surrounded the fire because it was still warm.

Resigned to my fate, I tucked the rock into the bottom of the bag and closed it up tight to keep bugs and weather out.

When I shrugged it on, testing the weight, it was heavy, but not so much that I couldn’t handle it.

I’d just hate myself later for agreeing to it.

I joined Einar outside, where he was filling up a flagon of water from a pot on the fire. I frowned, edging closer to ask, “W-why?”

“It is cold in the forest. You are small, like a child. You will need warmth. Put this on.” He handed me a fur to tie around my shoulders.

I resented the child-like comment—I wasn’t this small on purpose—but I didn’t comment on it.

He wasn’t the teasing type. He was stating his beliefs as facts.

It would do me no good to argue with him.

He was checking my bag to make sure it wasn’t too heavy when Uttin approached us. He looked confused, studying us both with a deep frown.

“What are you doing?”

Einar didn’t even look in his direction when he said, “We will go into the forest. Be back in a few days.”

Uttin’s mouth fell open in shock, and he looked to me for more explanation. I pressed my lips together tightly. Einar never made me talk in front of others. He wouldn’t start now, would he?

“You are not serious,” Uttin demanded. “You cannot take a tribute into the forest. It is too dangerous.”

Straightening to his full height, Einar turned to face Uttin. “You made me his protector. I will go on this journey. He will go with me so that I can protect him.”

Uttin looked incredulous, but I thought Einar’s plan was sound. It was his job to protect me. He couldn’t do that if we were apart. So I would go with him. I didn’t mind. Going hunting with him the past few days hadn’t been bad. I liked to watch. He never missed a shot.

“No, Einar. You can leave him with another. He will not?—”

“He will go with me,” Einar growled, glaring at Uttin.

Then he said something in their language too fast for me to comprehend.

Uttin’s cheeks flushed with anger at whatever he’d said, and he answered back in a snarl that made the hair on my neck stand on end.

I moved without forethought, putting myself at Einar’s back and out of Uttin’s line of sight.

I’d learned growing up that if I did not want to be punished along with whoever was getting into trouble, it was best to get out of sight.

“Leave,” Einar demanded in the common tongue again, his voice deadly quiet.

“No. If you wish to do this, you will seek permission from Orthorr first. Matthew is not your bondmate. You cannot take him from the clan.”

Surprise made my stomach lurch. I definitely wasn’t Einar’s bondmate.

He treated me as his charge and nothing more.

But sometimes when I cuddled against his back at night to stay warm, I wished I were.

I would be happy with the relationship we had.

For the first time since my family was lost to me, someone cared about my well-being. I didn’t want to give that up.