The silence was as awful as the words he’d just spoken. “I’m sorry,” she said at last.
“Don’t be,” he snapped, then forced his voice to soften. “Now you know why I do what I do. Why I cannot be complacent.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “I do.”
Rey couldn’t help but wonder—did she still think him the same as Jonas? A violent man filled with excuses?
They rode in silence down the mountain, fatigue settling into Rey. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d spoken of his parents. But they’d been gone for seventeen years. The wounds had long ago scabbed over—healed into toughened, scarred flesh. His brother, on the other hand…this wound was raw and untended, had festered in the years since he’d acquired it.
He did what he always did. Rey shoved his mind away from Kristjan.
Silla’s stomachwas growling by the time they rode through Runný’s wards, but as voices carried from within the shield-home, her whole body tensed.
“It’s Gyda,” said Rey. “Vig’s mother. I recognize her voice.” Dismounting, he held Brown Horse still while Silla clambered out of the saddle.
Reluctantly, she trailed him into the bright chaos of the shield-home, blinking in shock. The scent of cooked food made her stomach twist with hunger. Six bodies were packed into the small space; Vig leaning on the table while a pair of identically awkward boys rolled on the floor, a blur of elbows and flying fists; Runný seated on a bench, weaving a younger boy’s hair into a black braid along the top of his skull; and an older woman stirring the cauldron and barking over her shoulder at the wrestling boys.
“Rey!” exclaimed the boys, their quarrel forgotten as they rushed at him. He absorbed their impact with a soft grunt, looking down at them in surprise.
“Which of you is Haki and which is Haddi?” he asked. “Gods above, you’ve grown.”
“Aside, boys!” boomed the woman. “Rey Galtung. Come here, lad.”
With a heavy breath, Rey shook free from the twins and stepped toward the woman, whom Silla presumed to be Gyda. Clad in a heavy woolen overdress fastened with brooches, she was both tall and sturdy. Without hesitation, she pulled Rey into a smothering hug. Silla watched in amusement. This was a whole new side to Axe Eyes.
Silla studied the woman's hair. Black with gray streaks, it was woven into dozens of small braids and embellished with beads and silvercuffs.
“This is Silla,” said Rey, the moment Gyda released him.
Silla forced a smile, lifting a nervous hand. But Gyda stormed toward her, wrapping her up in the same motherly embrace she’d forced upon Rey. Gods, but it felt good to be hugged. Silla sagged against her, not wanting to let go.
“Any friend of the Galtung’s is a friend of ours,” said Gyda, pulling back. Hands firm on Silla, Gyda held her at shoulder’s reach to examine her face. Thankfully, the swelling was gone, but the remnants of Kopa’s bruises still lingered. “Bless you, poor girl. I hear the Klaernar have given you a hard time.”
Silla’s hand rose to the short patch of hair, prickly to the touch. “Yes.”
“Vig says you didn’t even know you were Galdra!” said the boy sitting before Runný. “Is that true?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Silla, forcing another smile at the boy, whom she guessed to be Snorri. He wore a woolen cloak with bare arms beneath it. “Ah, you must be Vig’s brother.”
He nodded proudly.
“Snorri, help me convince Silla to take a Nordurian ice bath.” Vig laughed from the table.
A cautious smile spread across Snorri’s face. “Oh, youmust. It is only cold for the first few seconds. Then you cannot feel a thing.” He frowned. “Until you get out and near the fire and then itburns. But…in a good way.”
Silla collapsed on the bench beside Runný. “Is that so?”
“Hush, Snorri,” chuckled Gyda. “Silla has only just arrived. Give her a minute to settle in before you have her jumping through holes in the ice.” The older woman turned around in the cabin. “Meant to come by last night with the furs and provisions, but we had some troubling news.” Gyda wandered to the cupboards, selecting a clay jar that had certainly not been there this morning. “One of Snorri’s friends went missing.”
A prickling sensation crawled down Silla’s spine.
“Aye,” muttered Vig, running a hand over his weary face. “It seems young Váli did not heed my warnings. He ventured out to pick snowcaps alone and failed to return.”
Snorri’s eyes glistened, and the boy turned his head away.
Runný slid an arm around her younger brother’s shoulder. “Surely he’s taken shelter somewhere. We’ll find him, Snorri.”
“The whole of Kalasgarde has been up the mountain searching for him,” continued Gyda, adding a pinch of something to the cauldron. “Went back up this morning to search in the light, but we’ve found no trace thus far.”
