Hekla’s lips met the Fox’s. And as his hand skimmed along her waist, she knew she was going to lose yet another match.
TWELVE
PRESENT DAY
Hekla dreamed of weathered-timber beams groaning in the wind—of chains clanking against the twin oak doors of a barn. It was utterly dark. A moonless night. Stunted fields of barley quivered all around her, and the tall spindly pines of the Western Woods swayed. The setting was familiar, yet the lone apple tree in the middle of the yard was distinct, and Hekla was certain she’d never laid eyes on this farm before.
A heartbeat began low and deep within the woods, but time was slippery in this land of dreams, and soon it thundered in her skull. White tendrils slinked from beneath dead shrubs, from behind gnarled trunks, and Hekla could feel the mist’s longing—could taste its hunger as it glided through the grass toward the barn.
She opened her mouth to scream a warning, but no sound came. Hekla watched helplessly as the mist seeped between the boards of the barn. Screams rose from within, joining the hammering beat of the mist in a chorus of agony, man, woman,child.
Hekla had to help them, had to make it stop, but she did not know how to best this enemy. A large form bounded into her vision, shaggy tail twitching.Wake, it said.
Hekla sat up with a gasp.
Her heart raced, and cold sweat misted her brow. But worst of all was the unsettling hunger lingering in her blood. The dream had been so vivid and felt so real.
Not real, she told herself, trying to banish the sight of that barn from her mind.You are in your chambers.
The sounds of the Winter Nights’ celebrations had faded away, and the faint light blooming from beneath the window coverings suggested that dawn neared. Hekla drained her waterskin. Sleep would not find her, not after a dream like that, and so she pulled the furs aside and dressed for the day.
Today her legs felt a bit steadier, the ache in her skull not quite as sharp. Hekla ate a few strips of dried elk, then grabbed her gear and made her way to the yard behind The Hungry Blade.
The horizon was brightening, casting just enough light for Hekla to see she was not alone in the yard. The figure across the courtyard worked through a series of rapid sword thrusts before sinking into a quick defensive stance. Her stomach clenched tight; she knew those movements. Had faced them before.
Hekla supposed she should not be surprised to find Eyvind Hakonsson up before the sun, diligently working through a defensive routine.
I hope that second chances are a very real thing.
The Fox’s words from their night together rang in her ears, and Hekla gritted her teeth.This jobwas the Fox’s second chance, and the realization curdled the last vestiges of her hope. The man would not squander it, which meant he would do as his father ordered.
As a favor to you, I’ll allow you a second chance.
Eyvind’s remembered words from last night kindled her anger to life.
Fuck him.
Fuck every patronizing man who disregarded her opinion because she lacked a certain appendage. Who brushed offher passion and called hertemperamental. Who told her to smile, as though she needed to change herself to put them at ease.
Fuck them all.
Hekla stripped off her cloak and began working through movements to loosen her body. She refused to grant Eyvind so much as a glance, even when she felt his eyes on her. Thankfully, he had the good sense not to try to talk to her as Hekla channeled her anger into her routine. Best to get it all out here now, in the sparring grounds, so she would not do or say something regretful later. She could not help Istré’s citizens if she were ousted from the job.
By the end of her routine, sunlight streamed over the stable’s roof and steam rose from Hekla’s sweat-slicked skin. Roosters crowed and hooves clopped, a squirrel darting along the fence.
Hekla froze.
The creature paused on a fencepost, one paw lifted as it listened for predators.
Just a squirrel, bjáni. Hekla forced her attention to her waterskin, refusing to so much as glance the creature’s way as she took a long drink.
After gathering her gear, she sauntered into the mead hall. Eyvind’s men lined the benches, talking amongst themselves. Hekla ignored the occasional scowl sent her way, but her ears pricked up as she caught a wisp of conversation.
“Konal had best loosen the leash.” It was one of Eyvind’s warriors.
Hekla slowed her stroll.
“It’s not a good look for Eyvind, having to heel to Dear Papa’s every command.”
