“You don’t want me to bleed on my wedding night do you?” I snap back with something I know he thinks is vile to make him back down, and it works. He levels me with a look of disgust and turns away.
“What did Harald say when you two were alone?” He switches to the conniving portion of this morning’s meeting.
“Nothing unusual. Now if you don’t mind, I have to braid my hair.” I push past my brother, looking for the key under my tunic. The only good thing Harald gave me is this room that has a locking door. Though I’m sure Harald didn’t give me the only key, at least it allows me to keep Jorvik out. I click the heavy iron key into the lock and feel the gears shift.
“Rasha, you need to participate in the feasts. Dance with Harald at the very least. Make everyone believe you’re making an effort at unity.”
“Why? You really think the clans are full of idiots? They know what is happening to their way of life.” I start to close the wooden door in his face, but he throws his foot and arm in the doorway.
“They need to see you happy so they can be settled with letting Harald lead us all.”
“Let me participate in the archery competition or today’s games, and you’ll have a deal. I’ll dance with Harald. But he has to participate in the Wild Hunt fairly, or all bets are off. It is for the gods to decide our partners.”
Jorvik narrows in on me, looking for another way around my request. I need him to leave before the lynx wakes up.
“I’ll pour his drinks and sit on his lap. I’ll lead the women in a dance at the Divination Ritual too.” I pile on the negotiations, waiting for Jorvik to pounce on my appeasement.
“Alright. The archery competition is to honor the goddess Skadi.Supposedly, her tomb is somewhere by the fjord,” Jorvik explains, and the goddess’s name unearths diluted stories I remember our mother telling us. “But Rasha, I will hold you to your word. On your best behavior during all the evening festivities.”
“Deal. Please go wash. You smell like you’ve had too much fun.” I push him gently, and he trots back down the stairs. Maybe I shouldn’t shut down the idea of being the Jarl’s wife if it comes with the benefit of keeping Jorvik at arms length.
In the safety of my locked bedroom, I take the pouches of herbs out of my pockets. Carefully walking around the low bed so the lynx isn’t startled, I crane my neck to see if she’s still alive. Those big eyes of hers are closed, but her belly rises and falls with each breath. It doesn’t take me long to mix the herbs and add melted snow from the windowsill, creating a paste with the mixture.
Replenishing the water in the bowl I was supposed to have breakfast porridge in, I push it to her, and she wakes, eagerly lapping up the cold water with her prickly tongue.
“You didn’t happen to attack a man with no beard and hazel eyes did you?” I ask, and she peers up at me with no response. Stretching her huge hind legs causes two bandages to fall off, revealing a streak of red deep in her fur.
I don’t usually spend time with predatory animals because they always try to kill me before I kill them. Bears and wolves are two we steer clear from while hunting deer and moose, but lynx are elusive. Watching her pad around the room reminds me of a barn cat searching for something to jump on to. Sure enough, she tenderly raises her front paws and looks out the window.
“Get down before someone sees your pretty ears,” I say. Coming to her side, I take a breath and stroke her massive head until she sits back down. Her fur is soft and dense to the point I can’t feel her skin beneath, which keeps her snow proof. She doesn’t move while I scratch her head, dragging my fingers down to her shoulders until I hear a quiet rumble.
To be safe, I burn the bandages in my fireplace and apply fresh medicine to the long cut that barely missed her internal organs. Feeling over her body, I can tell her ribs are certainly swollen, andher front paws show signs that she defended herself against a knife or a small axe.
The men outside the stronghold would have surely boasted about facing off with such a formidable creature, but they’ve said nothing. Jorvik isn’t the type to listen to hunting gossip, so I’ll have to keep my ears open today. The man in the medicine room had wounds as fresh as the lynx’s, but I saw no bite marks which confused me. Also his kindness is out of place for the group of men living here.
I am here to find the bow. Not help strangers.
Shaking my head, I try to clear my memories of last night so I can focus on today. When our parents were killed, Jorvik brought me to the Beaivi Clan, thinking it would be the best place for us. I made myself useful in any way they asked, not to make Jorvik proud, but to keep from being beaten. If I was the first one to bake bread for the day or clean the most rabbits, then I’d be valued.
So much for value now. I shrug and add another log to the fire. Leaving all of my food and water for the cat, I change into hunting leathers and a long, fur-lined tunic, braiding the sides of my hair while leaving the rest loose down my back. There will be plenty of nights to look like the wife of a Jarl, but today I want to look like a huntress.
Making my way through the stronghold, I try to memorize the square layout in case I need to make an escape. It is different from what I am used to. All the clans live in wooden longhouses in various parts of the mountain range and deep valleys where the fjords meet the sea.
Big stone structures are new and expensive, so one this large is solely for the Jarl and he friends. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I am greeted by an open space big enough for horses and wagons or sleds. Around the sides are the bedrooms and meeting rooms, although I’ve only been shown my room and the long Feast Hall at the back.
From an outsider’s observation, it seems silly to make the Feast Hall along the back because there aren’t many places for people torun if anything were to happen, say an attack or a simple kitchen fire. But Harald is following his new King’s example.
It’s not very efficient if you ask me, which they won’t, because I am a woman.
Katrine and Joanna are huddled in a corner, chatting. Joanna spots me first and hides a grin. I pray she hasn’t told Katrine what we did with the lynx; she’ll want to involve her fur trading father.
“How did you fare last night?” I ask, taking charge of the conversation. Joanna looks at her boots, tucking a loose piece of brown hair behind her ears. On cue, we look around the square to see if Harald or Jorvik are following me. We are all well versed in steering clear of my brother.
“I danced the night away, which would have been more enjoyable with my friends by my side,” Katrine says. When Joanna and I don’t reply immediately, Katrine lets out a huff of frustration. “You’re the Yule Maiden, and you spent all night evading your Jarl,” she scolds, and I bring my arms to their backs, leading them out of the open double gates.
“I spent plenty of time with him,” I admit, my body tensing at the memory of our moment alone.
“Not in front of the rest of the clans. We feasted! We danced!” Katrine shares and Joanna chuckles at our friend’s lamenting.
