TWENTY-FOUR
Hekla’s mind was a jumbled mess, but her feet moved sensibly through the corridor in search of Eyvind’s quarters. She was exhausted, yet her body tingled with the need to get away from her lodgings—away from Gunnar kneeling before her...
I kneel before you now to ask for your hand.
A hot, restless feeling climbed through her. Heklaneededto see Eyvind—needed to see his too-pretty face and hear his arrogant voice. Perhaps he would let her tend to his singed hair or wash the soot from his face. Perhaps she would spend the night in his quarters.
A frisson rushed through her at the very thought. Rather than a twinge of worry, the thought was accompanied by a burst of excitement.
As she neared the innkeeper’s quarters—the largest, he’d repeatedly assured Eyvind, before handing him the keys—voices drifted into the corridor, making Hekla’s heart quicken.
“Your father will be furious.” This voice belonged to Thrand Long Sword, and Hekla was curiously glad to hear it.
“I do not care what he thinks,” said Eyvind sharply. “I own mychoice. The people of Istré survived, no thanks to Konal and his rites.”
“Your choice affects more than just yourself,” grumbled Thrand.
Eyvind was silent a moment before he replied. “I know it affects you and the rest of the lads as well. But Thrand, you know in your heart it was the right thing to do.”
“Aye, but it was,” muttered Thrand, clearly exasperated. “But I speak not only of your father’s orders.” There was a note in his voice that made Hekla’s feet falter.
“Speak plainly,” said Eyvind, the exhaustion in his voice easily heard.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that kiss Rib Smasher planted on you,” said Thrand. When Eyvind didn’t reply, he continued, “And there’s the way your eyes follow her constantly?—”
“Leave it be, Thrand,” warned Eyvind.
But Thrand was not so easily dissuaded. “Had you asked me a week ago, I’d have thought you were madder than a berserker to go anywhere near that woman. But now...” Thrand grew silent a moment. “Now, IsupposeI can see it.”
A grunt told Hekla that Eyvind had likely punched his second in command.
“Arse,” muttered Thrand. “Have you told her the whole truth? Does she know of Liv?”
Hekla skin prickled in warning. Who in the eternal fucking fires wasLiv?
“It was supposed to be a one-night thing,” said Eyvind defensively. “I thought—” He sighed, apparently unable to complete the thought.
Thrand let out a dramatic exhale. “Eyvie. It is clear there’s no leaving this one behind. I don’t know what it is between you, but this job with the mist is far from over. You owe her the truth about your betrothal.”
The ground seemed to fall out from beneath Hekla’s feet.
Betrothal.
Eyvind gods-damned Hakonsson was betrothed?
An ache bloomed in her chest, pumping through her veins with each beat of her heart. The soft, newly exposed part of her shriveled in despair. Wrong. How could she have been so wrong? How could she have broken her rules and been willing to set them aside for this man?
The pain of this deception sent her back in time—back to a barn where Rothna had loomed over her with that axe in his hand. Hadn’t she vowed in that instant never again to trust a man with the softest parts of her? Hadn’t she vowed to build up her defenses so high and so strong that no one would ever be able to hurt her again?
The part of her, left vulnerable in the wake of the blast, now burrowed back down deep inside. Hekla built up her walls. Pulled her warrior’s mask into place. She wanted to scream. Wanted to stride into that room and punch Eyvind Hakonsson in his beautiful mouth. Instead, she turned on her heel and strode away from his quarters.
Somehow, Hekla made it outdoors. The air in the yard was crisp with the late-autumn chill, the sun now descending from its zenith as the stable hands readied the horses for the next hard leg of the journey. She rushed behind the barn, then bent double, trying to control her nausea.
Betrothed.All this time, Eyvind had been betrothed. To think of the things she’d shared with him...and to think that after that explosion in Istré, she’d been open to the idea of athem.
It’s better to bruise now,she told herself,than to break later.
Swamped by her emotion, Hekla failed to see the small creature bounding along the fence until it was directly beside her. With a gasp, she whirled to face the squirrel.
