RASHA
Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay awake.
I need to move, but I am so cold. Rubbing my chest to try to warm up, I hear Aslaug moving on top of the ledge. Maybe she will be loving and come down here to cuddle with me so I don’t pass out? Laying down on the ice near my carvings, I watch my blood trickle through them and realize how much I miscalculated my ability to withstand the cold. My hips and shoulders ache in defeat. Maybe I’ll sleep and wake up to the sun warming me? The skin on my cheek is stuck to the frosty ground, making it painful to move, but I see someone coming.
“Aslaug!” Shaw’s voice echoes in a harsh call across the fjord, and I swear snow rattles from the mountain. Ignoring me, she leaps off the ledge and bounds to her master.
Ripping my face off the ice, I can’t tell if I tore my skin or not due to being mostly numb. I move my sleeve over the cut on my arm and steady my weight, trying to move my limbs. My pants are wet with ice and snow making my movements stiff.
Shaw watches as I slide around. He is going to have cross words with me about coming here alone, which is not how I pictured this night going. I’d rather keep the upper hand and make it to him withmy chin held high. But without Aslaug to lean on, it is harder to balance. He sees me floundering, falling hard, and strides across the ice with his heavy, black coat engulfing his frame.
“What are you doing out here?” he says before he reaches me. I get to my feet, and he grabs my hips with his strong hands.
“I had to see for myself if there was a tomb. Are you out here trying to find the bow before I do?” My voice wavers in the cold, but I stay determined. He looks past me to Aslaug’s ledge and shakes his head.
“You took her out of the room when you promised you wouldn’t.” He switches topics to scold me.
“I’d rather talk about the longboat at the bottom of the fjord that you should have told me about, since she is a grown animal and broke out of my room all by herself.”
He turns to her, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were somehow silently communicating. Aslaug rubs her body against my shaking legs and beams up at him. His hand is firm around my waist, and I feel his muscles relax as he uses his other hand to pet her.
“No one has ever found the bow, Rasha. One tomb under the ice doesn’t mean what you think,” Shaw murmurs, bringing my body closer to his. I swallow the dryness in my throat. Opening his coat, he pauses and drops his hand from my side. “Warm yourself for a moment, and I’ll take you back before we all freeze to death.”
Did he come out here looking for me or for the bow to have an advantage over Harald? My thoughts are lost to the wind as I stand next to him, waiting for something to happen.
“Rasha, you can come closer if you want,” he says, and I glide into his solid chest. Burying my face in the heat of his tunic, I feel his arms wrap around and cover me with his coat. His chin rests on my head while I let his body heat warm my lungs so I can take a proper breath.
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to her,” I finally whisper, taking in his scent of burning embers and pine.
“She is a gift from the gods. I have failed them in the past, so Iam protective,” he admits. His hands rub circles over my back, and I smoosh my face into the ties and seams of his tunic.
“Why didn’t you say she might know the way? Is she trying to show me the tomb or what she thinks I need to see?”
“She is bringing you to those she greatly misses,” he says. Our faces are so close that he could rest his cheek against mine. Our hot breath mingles, taking shape on the icy air and rising up around us.
“So there is a chance the bow is under the ice?” I ask again, trying to understand why he doesn’t trust me.
“I’ll explain, but first we need to get inside,” he replies, letting go of my body against his. I back away and throw my arms out to find balance. Shaw seems to have no trouble walking on the ice, and despite grabbing my hands a few times to prevent me from falling, we manage to make it back to land uneventfully.
On our way to the wall, we find evergreen branches to wipe away our tracks and stay low to avoid being seen. When we are at the loose part that I came through earlier, Shaw kneels on one knee to whisper something to Aslaug. Brushing her head against my hand in her own form of goodbye, she takes off into the darkest part of the forest.
“Where is she going?” I ask in alarm.
“Where she will be safe. I’ll check on her tomorrow before the feast. Besides, she needs to hunt, and it’s safer for her away from the clans.”
“You aren’t worried she isn’t healed fully?” I ask, wedging my body through the tight wooden slats.
“I am, but if she breached your room to find you, it means she is ready to be in the wilderness,” he explains. It is harder for his bulky shoulders to fit through, but he does, and we throw our hoods over our heads to keep anyone still awake from recognizing us. The village is barren and quiet. Everyone is sleeping, tucked into their cozy beds in the longhouses for the night. Soon enough, we are standing in front of the stronghold.
“Do you have a tub?” Shaw asks, and I shake my head. Lingering together is dangerous, but I have no desire to go to bedcold and alone. He takes my hand, and we leave the double doors to meander around the side where the forge is.
“The forge has a tub?” I watch his hazel eyes catch my raised eyebrows.
“The forge is well stocked,” he replies and opens the door for me to go inside. Adding a stack of logs to the bottom of the kiln, he pumps the air from the top to reignite the fire below.
“You should take off those wet clothes,” he says as he walks around collecting things. Touching my wet pants, I find the ties with my numb fingers and struggle to loosen the knot. Getting naked in front of a man with the power to do anything he wants with me is a terrible idea, but he hasn’t shown a hint of aggression or need.
I abandon the frozen ties and look around instead. Weapons in all stages of being struck and welded are everywhere. Swords and axes in various conditions line the tables and drying racks. Tools, crowd buckets, and black stained clothes are hung over chairs.
