A laugh bubbled up from Brynja’s chest, surprising her with its lightness. When was the last time she’d laughed like that? Not the bitter, angry sound she’d grown used to, but genuine joy. This was different than riding a pony or riding with Hagen. This was a relationship between her and Freya.
After another few circuits, Hagen signaled for her to slow. Freya slowed to a walk, then halted. Brynja’s heart was racing, her cheeks flushed with exertion and pleasure.
“Well done,” Hagen said, reaching up to help her dismount. His hands spanned her waist as she swung her leg over and slid down. For a moment, she was pressed against him, close enoughto see the silver flecks in his blue eyes, close enough to feel his breath against her forehead.
Neither of them moved.
Then Freya nudged Hagen’s shoulder with her nose, breaking the moment. He stepped back, his hands falling away, a faint color rising in his cheeks.
“Now for the important part,” he said, his voice slightly rough. “Horse care. Come with me.”
He led Freya toward the stable, Brynja following. The interior was dim and cool, smelling of hay and leather and the warm, dusty scent of horses. Hagen led Freya into one of the stalls at the far end and began removing her saddle.
“Always tend to your horse before yourself,” he said. “She’s given you her strength, her trust. You owe her care in return.”
They worked together, Hagen showing her how to brush Freya down, check her legs for heat or swelling, give her fresh water and grain. The repetitive motion was soothing, almost meditative. Freya stood patiently, her eyes half-closed in contentment.
“My grandsire used to say,” Hagen said after a while, “that you can tell a man’s character by how he treats his horse.”
“What does that make you?”
He looked up, meeting her eyes across Freya’s back. “I hope it makes me someone worth trusting.”
The weight of the words settled between them. He wasn’t just talking about horses, and they both knew it.
“You are,” Brynja said quietly. “Worth trusting.”
Something shifted in his expression, relief, perhaps, or hope. He reached across Freya’s back, his hand finding hers on the mare’s withers, his thumb brushing across her knuckles in a touch that could have been accidental but wasn’t.
The strangest thing happened. A heat suffused her that was different. She’d had similar reactions to Hagen’s closeness, histouch, but this was something almost otherworldly. “Hagen?” she whispered, staring at his face to see if he caught it too.
He swallowed hard, his gaze following his hand as he reached for hers again. As soon as they touched, the same thing happened.
Warmth, heat, something shot from his hand to hers in an instant, a burst of light illuminating the small area.
“Did you feel that?” he asked.
She nodded, afraid to speak. “I saw it too. Just like the first time.”
He did it again, this time gripping her hand and holding her, and an intensity shot through them that made them both take a step back, breaking their bond. “Hagen, what was that?”
“I don’t know.” His gaze locked on hers while he reached for her again, but this time, nothing happened. “I’ve never felt anything like it before.”
This time, it was a simple touch. Hagen shrugged. “Must be something odd in the air. Mayhap a storm is coming.”
She accepted his explanation because she had no other explanation for the oddity.
They finished caring for Freya in companionable silence, then walked out into the afternoon sunlight. Brynja’s muscles ached pleasantly from the ride, and her hands smelled of horse and leather. She felt… grounded. Present in her body in a way she hadn’t since before that terrible day on Tiree.
“Many thanks to you,” she said as they walked back toward the keep. “For the lesson. For…” She gestured vaguely, unable to articulate all that the afternoon had meant.
“For what?” he asked.
“For treating me like I’m capable. Like I’m more than just…” She trailed off.
“More than just what?”
“Broken,” she said quietly.
