“Neither did I.” Hildi turned to look out the window, her expression distant. “When I woke up after Ulva, I couldn’t remember what had happened at first. Then it all came back to me. I remembered Sholto’s hands on me, his dagger pricking my neck, flying through the air, the tree, the pain. And I was so angry, Brynja. So angry at him for hurting me. At you for bringing him into our lives. At God for letting it happen.”
Brynja’s chest ached. “Hildi, I’m so sorry—”
“Let me finish.” Hildi’s voice was gentle but firm. “I was angry. And that anger kept me alive at first. It gave me something to hold onto when the pain was unbearable. Butthen… then I started to heal. And I had to decide what to do with all that rage.”
She turned back to Brynja. “I could have let it consume me. Could have spent every waking moment thinking about Sholto, hating him, planning revenge. But lying in that bed, barely able to move, all I could think about was that I almost died. And if I had died, what would my life have been? Just fear and anger and pain?”
Tears pricked Brynja’s eyes. “What did you do?”
“I chose to let it go.” Hildi’s voice was steady. “Not forgiveness. I’ll never forgive him for what he did. But I chose not to let him steal any more of my life than he already has. I chose to focus on healing. On the people who loved me. On building something new instead of just dwelling on what was broken.”
“I want Sholto dead,” Brynja said flatly. “I want to watch the light leave his eyes. I want him to know it was me who killed him.”
“All right. And after?” Hildi’s gaze was steady. “After he’s dead and your revenge is complete, what then? What does your life look like?”
Brynja opened her mouth, then closed it. She’d spent weeks imagining Sholto’s death. But she’d never imagined what came after. It was as if her life stopped at the moment of his dying, as if there was nothing beyond that single point of vengeance.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Then mayhap that’s what you need to figure out.” Hildi’s voice was soft. “Because revenge might satisfy you for a moment. But moments end, Brynja. And then you’re left with the rest of your life. The question is, who do you want to be in that life?”
Brynja pulled her hand away, moving over to the door to peer at the weather. Outside, the sky was darkening, storm clouds gathering. “I don’t know how to be anyone other than thewoman who wants the men who killed our mothers dead. That’s who I’ve been for over three moons. That’s what’s kept me alive.”
“I know.” Hildi rose more slowly, wincing slightly as her body protested. “But you’re more than that, Brynja. I’ve seen it these past weeks. You’re the woman who learned to ride a horse even though you were terrified. You’re the woman who makes Hagen Grant smile. You’re the woman who brought me broth when I was recovering and sat with me when I couldn’t sleep.”
Brynja joined her friend at the hearth, so glad to see her standing up strong.
“Cousin, you’re not just vengeance. You’re also courage and kindness and strength. You’re also capable of love, even though you’re afraid of it.”
“I’m not afraid of love, Hildi.”
“You are.” Hildi’s tone was gentle but unyielding. “You’re terrified. Because love means vulnerability. It means letting someone close enough to hurt you. And you’ve been hurt so much already.”
Tears spilled over, hot against Brynja’s cold cheeks. “I can’t. I can’t let him in. What if something happens? What if I lose him too?”
“You might.” Hildi’s honesty was brutal but necessary. “Life doesn’t come with guarantees. I could have another accident on the morrow. You could lose Hagen. We could all die in our sleep. That’s the cost of being alive. We all die eventually.”
She turned to face Brynja fully. “But the question isn’t whether we’ll lose the people we love. The question is whether we’re brave enough to love them anyway. Whether the joy of having them is worth the pain of potentially losing them.”
“I don’t know if I’m that brave,” Brynja whispered.
“You are.” Hildi wiped Brynja’s tears with her thumb. “You’re the bravest person I know. You survived things thatwould have broken me. You kept going when anyone else would have given up. If you can do that, you can do this.”
“But what if revenge is all I have left? What if I kill Sholto and there’s nothing inside me afterward? What if I’m just… empty?”
“Then you fill yourself back up.” Hildi’s voice was fierce. “With love and laughter and ordinary moments. With morning rides and honey baked apples and arguments about nothing. With Hagen’s smile and Jowell’s gruffness and Grant’s giggles. You fill yourself with life, Brynja. Because you’re alive. And that’s what living people do.”
Brynja pressed her forehead to Hildi’s shoulder, her cousin’s arms coming around her. “I’m so tired of being angry all the time.”
“I know. I know you are.” Hildi held her close. “But anger doesn’t have to be all you are. It can be part of you, but not the whole story.”
They stood there as the storm began outside, rain pattering against the stone in the courtyard. Finally, Brynja pulled back, wiping her face.
“What if he comes for me?” she asked. “Sholto. What if he finds me here?”
“Then you’ll face him.” Hildi’s expression was steady. “But you won’t face him alone. You’ll have Hagen. Jowell. Paden. Maitland and all his warriors. You’ll have an army at your back instead of just your rage.”
She took Brynja’s face in both hands. “But promise me something. Promise me that when the time comes, you won’t throw away your chance at happiness just to satisfy your need for revenge. Promise me you’ll think about what comes after. About who you want to be.”
