“I rushed with Rov to hall after explosion shook the castle,” Rurik said, dragging Saga from her thoughts. He stood and began pacing the narrow strip of flooring. “We discovered many bodies. Crumbling columns. The roof, broken and falling.”
Saga brought a shaky hand to her mouth. She’d done that. She’d killed people—had thirsted for their blood…
“We took you from high table. Ivar lay in blood beside you. Printsessa Yrsa…” A muscle in his cheek flexed.
Acid burned Saga’s stomach. “Is she…”
“She could not have lived.”
The words were like blades slicing into her sternum. Saga gasped in a breath, fighting off nausea. Yrsa. She’d killed Yrsa. Yrsa, who’d stood before her, asking for forgiveness, demanding the guards release her. Oh gods,oh gods, what had she done?
“We did not see the others—Signe. Bjorn,” continued Rurik. “Was impossible to see. We took you and left quickly.”
“I didn’t want for that to happen.”Lies!her mind screamed. She’d wanted them dead. Had willed this to happen. “I was not in control…”
“I understand,” Rurik said, taking her hand in his and running a thumb over her scars. His grip on her tightened. “More than you know.”
Saga bit her lip, trying to digest his words, but his touch was all she could focus on. As he relaxed his hold and turned her hand over, she was surprised to find no burnt flesh, nor hint of the flames which had exploded from her. As Rurik pressed one hand into a tight fist, then splayed her fingers wide, Saga hissed through her teeth.
“Is swollen. I will have compress made for you.”
Rurik brought her hand to his lips, caressing the screaming bear branded on it. Her gaze caught on his, and she let herself stare. “What if it happens again?”
“Then I will help you through it before control is lost. And if not, I have these.” His hand slid from his pocket, revealing a small, stoppered bottle. “Seeds,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Saga watched him. How could Rurik be so nonchalant about the danger lurking inside her? And what would happen when he left her in Midfjord and sailed to Zagadka? What if it happened again? “How many nights until we reach Midfjord?” she asked tentatively.
Before he could answer, a knock at the door had Saga’s hand tightening around Rurik’s forearm. “Is only evening meal,” murmured Rurik. Embarrassed, Saga eased her grip.
But the mere mention of food made her stomach growl, Rurik’s lips tilting up in reply. “I will bring it.” Setting her gently aside, he crossed the room, shielding her from view as he exchanged a low murmur with the person beyond the door. When Rurik turned with a tray clutched in hand, his eyes seemed to sparkle.
“Eat, Winterwing,” said Rurik, setting the tray down on the table. Saga scooted eagerly to the edge of the bed, inspecting the bowl of soup andflatbread. Rurik began pacing the confines of the room. “When you have your strength, if you are feeling brave, I have something to show you in ship’s hull.”
Saga looked up. There was something in his eyes—mischief and eagerness and that strange restlessness. “What is it?”
“Is…surprise for you.” Rurik rolled his neck, chuckling at her answering scowl. “Already you are feeling better. Good. I missed your fire.”
Eating in silence, Saga surveyed each corner of the room. Already, she was growing used to this space, her initial panic softening to a vague unease. She considered venturing to the hull. In Askaborg, she’d gotten to a place of comfort moving within the castle’s walls. If she locked herself away in this room, she worried she’d fall back into old habits. Perhaps with Rurik beside her, a trip to the hull would be achievable.
“We won’t step outdoors?” she asked, setting the spoon down in the empty bowl. Saga’s head felt clearer, glimmers of energy returning to her limbs.
He paused in his pacing with a wide smile. “No outdoors. Is short walk down corridor, then climbing on ladder.”
Saga watched him quietly, curiosity gnawing at her from within. What could there possibly be to show her in the ship’s hull? “Very well,” she said, pushing to her feet. The roll of the ship was jarring, but Rurik steadied her with a firm hand before she could stumble.
“You will tell me if you wish to return,” he said, pulling her to the door. “And I will bring you back right away.”
She nodded, her pulse pounding furiously. But he was so sturdy, so understanding about her condition, and Saga reminded herself over and over that she was safe.
The corridor beyond her room was dark and narrow, disorienting as the ship swayed to and fro. Gripping Rurik’s hand, Saga forced her feet forward, one after the other. Reaching the end of the corridor, Rurik kneeled down, flipping a hatch in the floorboards up on iron hinges.
His eyes met hers, dancing with trouble. “Come. Is worth it. I promise.”
Saga’s brows furrowed, but darkness had already swallowed him in the bowels of the ship and she hurried to follow. The moment her feet hit solid ground, goosebumps raced across Saga’s skin. Rurik’s arm slid around her back, and she blinked at the tremors running through him.
“Are you certain you’re?—”
“I’m fine,” he asserted, pulling her through a doorway. “This way.”
