“She’s spoken for,” Rey grumbled, stepping between Eyvind and the sparring women.
Eyvind’s hazel eyes met Rey’s in disbelief, followed swiftly by anger. “She said nothing of the sort to me.”
Rey’s heart lurched. “What?”
“She told me that she does not form attachments. And I don’t think she’d appreciate you, as you say,speaking for her.”
Rey was momentarily stunned by the hardness of Eyvind’s voice. Then his mind raced with questions—when had Silla and Eyvind become acquainted, and why would she tell him such things? Rey retraced this morning’s daymeal. He’d arrived late to find Eyvind jostling with Gunnar for a spot beside Hekla—
He stared back at the sparring women, and at last he understood. Rey huffed in amusement. “Is there something you need to tell me, Fire Breath? Did something transpire between you and a certain clawed warrior?”
Eyvind glanced at the sparring women and seemed to comprehend. A mischievous smile curved his lips. “Perhaps. And is there something you need to tell me about Kalasgarde, Soot Fingers?”
Rey shrugged. “She was cold.”
“Cold?”
“Aye.” Rey folded his arms over his chest, resuming his position against the armory’s wall. “I…warmed her up.”
Eyvind watched him with utter delight.
“And you, Fire Breath?” Rey bit out. “I sense there’s a story?”
As Eyvind’s eyes drifted back to Hekla, they seemed to soften. “A beautiful woman who can knock me on my arse and is not afraid to speak her mind? What’s not to like?” But there was something buried behind his words…something almost like bitterness.
Rey looked between Eyvind and Hekla, then shook his head in disbelief. Never would he think they would be a pair well matched. Then again, Rey would never have guessed he and a woman like Silla would be, either.
“I’m glad for you, friend,” he said, clapping Eyvind’s shoulder.
But Eyvind drew away with a glower. “Don’t be. I ruined it before it could start.” He sighed. “I didn’t think to tell her of Liv, because, well—”
It took Rey a moment to recall that Liv was the name of Eyvind’s betrothed. “Isn’t she—”
“Aye.”
“It sounds,” said Rey cautiously, “as though a conversation is in order.”
Eyvind kicked a stone. “Hekla won’t speak to me. Won’t give me a chance to explain.”
Rey considered this. “Perhaps you can win her favor back. Might I suggest baby chicks?”
“Chicks…as inchickens?”
“Aye.” Rey opened his mouth to elaborate, but a flash of raven-black hair diverted his attention. He felt hisaxe eyessettling into place, his moods souring in an instant as a familiar tall woman sauntered across the yard.
Eyvind huffed a breath. “Question for you, Galtung. Did you tell Kaeja about your new…attachment?”
Rey’s gaze found Atli, then darted quickly back to Kaeja. Black hair swept into a long braid; her lithe frame was encased in lébrynja armor. “I haven’t spoken a word to her since I carved her from my life.”
As a rule, Rey thought of Kaeja as little as was possible, and ifyou’d asked him an hour ago, he’d have said she had no effect on him. But seeing the woman he’d once thought would be his wife brought a rush of unwelcome emotions to Rey. His skin felt itchy, his stomach knotting tight. Was it his imagination, or were heads bowing together, eyes darting his way?
He breathed deeply, trying to shake the unsettled feeling gaining strength inside him, but it was to no avail. Suddenly Rey couldn’t wait to leave this place and its gossip behind. Couldn’t wait to get back on the road. To get normalcy back in his life.
But as Kaeja marched toward Silla with concerning determination, his discomfort shifted to worry. Silla turned and greeted Kaeja with a pleasant smile, and Rey scrubbed a hand down his face. He should go over there, yet his feet were not eager to move.
“Coward,” murmured Eyvind, evidently reading Rey’s expression.
Silla and Kaeja clasped hands, then chatted animatedly. Inwardly, Rey cursed. A better man would go over there. A better man would have warned Silla of Kaeja.
