“Katarina, you have nothing to fear from me.” He would never dream of harming a woman. To underscore his words, he released her hand, and she shook the water droplets away.
“I amnotafraid of you.” Even so, she turned her gaze to her burned fingers, as if she didn’t want to see him watching her. Her eyes remained troubled, but it was the beginning of peace between them.
After he set the bowl down, Katarina went to the door. “When Astrid returns with my brother, she will send word to your father so he can prepare a place for you.”
In other words, she wouldn’t allow him to stay here. It wasn’t surprising, and yet, he found himself unwilling to be in the company of more strangers. He needed answers before he faced anyone else. Although Katarina did not yet trust him, she was his best hope for finding a strategy to navigate this place with their unusual clothing and customs. He held his ground and crossed his arms. “I would be grateful for a little more time before I go.” A few hours, at the very least. If he made any more blunders, his ignorance could cost him his life.
“What do you mean?”
He crouched down near the hearth, considering his words carefully. “I have no doubt my father will want to see me. But before that, I would like to better understand what has happened since I left.”
She seemed to relax, nodding her agreement. “For a little while, then. But since you were chosen to take his place asjarlof our tribe, you will have to go soon.”
Eric didn’t know what to think of that, for he could not be leader of these people. He hardly knew where he was, much less anything about their tribe. And he wasn’t ready to trust another man’s memories.
Katarina offered him the burned oat cakes, along with barley bread and porridge. She picked at the cakes, but her thoughts seemed to drift away. Eric tried to ask a few questions, but she gave one-word answers. Something was weighing upon her, but he could not guess what it was.
The spoon she gave him was carved from a sea shell, not made of silver or tin. He had never seen one like this. Nearly all of the dishes were made of wood, save the horn she’d used to pour him a cup of mead. There was no porcelain or crystal. Not even any candles—only the oil lamps, which appeared to be burning rendered fat. He didn’t know what to think of her manner of living. More and more, this existence appeared to be ancient.
Her servant, Astrid, returned and behind the woman stood Katarina’s brother. The warrior entered the space, his left hand resting upon his belt. He wore the fur of a wolf wrapped around his shoulders, along with leather trousers and a shirt. An enormous battle-ax hung at his waist, and his right arm was a stump below the elbow. Despite the loss, Eric knew not to underestimate the man’s fighting skills.
Don’t move,a voice seemed to warn from within him.Or he will cut you down.
It seemed a logical conclusion, and he met the man’s gaze evenly. Within seconds, the name came to his memory, and he greeted Katarina’s brother. “Hrafn.”
He knew with certainty that Hrafn had a vicious temper. From the way the man was staring at him, the man appeared to be contemplating how best to kill him. “Has he harmed you?” he asked Katarina.
“No,” she answered. “But Arik has changed since we saw him last.”
It became clear that they intended to discuss this in front of him, and Hrafn appeared to be the sort of man who would kill first and ask questions later.
Eric stood slowly and faced the man. “Will you sit and join us?”
Hrafn eyed him for a moment, and then turned to his sister. His hand rested upon his battle-ax, and his expression darkened. “What do you want me to do, Katarina? Shall I throw him out?”
