To Silla’s great relief, Runný merely nodded. “Let’s go,” she said, grabbing her cloak and pushing through the door. The pair followed Rey’s footstepsalong the road and toward Kalasgarde. In a matter of minutes, they were rushing through the stockade walls, weaving between homes and shops, coming to a stop before the burial grounds. A wide-open space, bordered by woods and dotted with thick clusters of trees, the burial grounds contained orderly, snow-covered mounds, oriented in the path of the sun. And there he was, a dark form folded over his knees near a group of trees.
“He’s safe,” Silla exhaled. The battle thrill coursing through her began to ebb at the sight of him. Perhaps she should warn him of the strange dream…of the black hawk. Silla glanced around the burial mounds, eyeing the forest edging the back border. She’d just give him the warning, then return to the shield-home. “Runný,” Silla whispered. “Can you wait here?”
The dark-haired Galdra let out an exasperated sigh, but as her gaze landed on Rey it softened. “Very well.”
“Thank you!” whispered Silla, hugging a startled Runný, before following Rey’s footsteps into the burial grounds. Nearing the copse of trees, she studied him for any sign of trouble.
“Why have you come?” grumbled Rey without looking.
“I had…a dark dream,” she said, feeling foolish. Yet seeing him well and whole relieved some of her unease. “I had to know you were safe.” Silla cleared her throat, glancing around. To her knowledge, the serpent had never breached Kalasgarde’s stockade walls, but she didn’t like the feel in the air. “Perhaps you should not linger too long?—”
“Sit,” said Rey, making room on the cloak he sat upon. “Only for a minute, and then we’ll leave.” Reluctantly, Silla drew nearer, easing down beside him. Warmth tingled wherever they touched—thighs, hips, shoulders—slowly easing the tension in her body. Silla gazed at the burial mound, noting the three stone clusters swept clear of snow.
“We had nothing to bury but needed a place to visit our parents.” Silla did not need to ask who the other was in thewe—Kristjan, the brother Rey had lost to skjöld leaves. The brother he never spoke of. Her heart pounded, as she waited for him to say more.
“I scarcely remember my parents now,” he said. “Each year, the memories fray a little more. Sometimes”—his voice cracked—“days go by, and I don’t think of them once.”
His elbows rested on his drawn knees, and she looped her arm under his with a gentle squeeze. Several moments of silence passed before he continued. “I’ve not returned to Kalasgarde since I—” He cleared his throat. “For five years. I’ve left their burial mound unvisited for five years. What kind of son am I?”
“You’re here now,” Sillawhispered.
“It is your doing.”
Silla’s pulse pounded. “Me?”
“I’ve watched you face your grief day after day. And I thought if you could do it, at the very least, I could try.”
Warmth unfurled in Silla’s chest, and she couldn’t help but smile.
“I missed your smiles,” he whispered. “I’m glad to see them back.”
Embarrassed, Silla pressed her nose into his shoulder, breathing him in. “You,” she said softly, “helped me more than you know. Having you at my back gave me the strength I needed.”
He looked incredulous. “I did nothing. Words are not…I am better with actions.”
“Your wordsandactions helped,” she said, turning her head so her cheek rested on his shoulder. “Will you tell me about them?” She felt shy asking, fearful he’d retreat.
“I recall little,” he said, staring at the burial stones. “But there are flashes of things. My mother could be as stern as Harpa, but my father was as playful as a wolf cub. He’d wrestle us for hours—taught us how to hold a sword and how to tell if a man is lying. He taught us how to cheat at dice and how to slip the parts of our meal we did not care for to the hounds without catching Mother’s eye.”
Rey let out a long breath. “On the surface, it might not seem that my parents were suited, but I think they brought balance to one another. He drew out a carefree side of her, while she helped him achieve things he could not on his own. Together, they were stronger than apart.”
Silla squeezed him gently. “And your brother?” she prompted, greedy for more.
But Rey’s guarded expression told her not to press. “I’m sorry,” she retreated. “I…if you ever wish to speak of him, I am here to listen.”
He was silent, and Silla’s mind raced for a way to open him back up—to bring him back to where they’d been moments before. “Your work for the Uppreisna,” she tried. “It is for them. For your parents.”
The muscles beneath her fingers eased just a touch as he released a long exhale. “Yes.”
She was silent for a moment of quiet contemplation. “You’re a caregiver,” she said, understanding at last. “You care for others, dead or alive. You doeverythingfor others. The Bloodaxe Crew. Your family. Me.” Silla paused, looking up at him. The sun glowed brighter behind Snowspear, catching in his eyes—threads of gold woven with the deepest of browns. “Who looks afteryou, Rey?”
He held her gaze for a long, weighted moment. “I do.”
“I could do it,” she said, the words quiet and loud all at once. “If you’dlet me.”
“I don’t need anyone to look after me.” He glowered.
She laughed—she couldn’t help it. “Obstinate man.”
