Marcello is a military strategist, I’m sure he’d know exactly what to do with every weakness of mine.
He lets out a little chuckle that sounds as if the humor has bled from it. “Yes, that would certainly do it, but I suppose we’re a bit more than strangers now, aren’t we?”
“Are we?”
His face falls. I quickly turn away, trying not to read into the disappointment. I’m not sure what he expects from me. I expect nothing from him. He should learn to better measure his expectations.
“I’m tired, I think I shall go to bed.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Marcello nod. “Yeah,” he says his voice strained.
I move to the bed, pausing as I look it over. It’s piled high with animal furs and stuffed pillows. Bits of straw peak out of the mattress. I wrinkle my nose as I sit down on it. It reeks of the Werma.
I glance over to see Marcello pulling the bear rug up closer to the hearth. He settles on it, unhooking the cloak from his armor. He then starts undoing his breastplate.
Make tonight a memorable one.
I certainly won’t be doing that, but I suppose I also don’t have to make my brand-new husband sleep next to the hearth on our wedding night.
I clear my throat, and he pauses as he arranges his belongings. He looks over at me, a curl is now out of place from him pulling his breastplate over his head. It rests on his temple just next to his brow giving him an almost boyish look.
I avert my eyes before he catches me staring. “There is room enough for us both on this bed.”
He cocks his head to the side, a little like Drekki does when I speak to him in a higher pitched voice. “Are you sure?” He sounds wary as if I’m trying to trap him somehow.
I cross my arms. “So long as you agree to stay on your side of the bed.”
I turn away as Marcello pushes to his feet and makes his way over, his tread is much lighter now that he is no longer wearing his boots. I pick up the pillows, stacking them in the center to create a small wall.
“Hmm, well this is cozy,” he says moving to the other side of the bed. There is a rustle, and the bed dips as he climbs on, disappearing from view on the other side of the pillows.
I settle down next to him, suddenly wondering at the sanity of my actions. How am I to sleep at all with him so close. If I extend my leg, it will brush his. Even though I cannot see him, I can sense his presence right there.
My hairs stand on end. Every muscle and sinew in me are tense as a fire flows through my blood. What was I thinking inviting an enemy into my bed? All he would have to do is reach over and slice my throat while I slumber…
I hear a soft exhale on the other side of the pillows. “Good night, Laduga.”
But then I suppose if he wanted me dead, he never would have married me. Which does beg the question, what exactly does he want from me?
And what will he do when he realizes that he won’t get it?
Chapter Fifteen
A Stone, a Finger, and a God
Adreamhasalwaysborn a fantastical feeling, a sort of shimmer just along the edges of my vision to remind me that what I am not seeing is not real but is instead merely a figment of my mind.
The problem is that I don’t dream anymore. The more potent my visions have become, the more they invade the rest of my mind. The first to be taken over was my dreams, now it seems as if that wasn’t even enough because in recent days, they have begun to take over my waking hours as well. Just like the vision I had when I tried to kill Marcello.
Which is why I don’t even bother looking for that shimmer when I find myself standing out in the whipping snow. Ahead of me I make out two figures standing together. I recognize the cloak first, a rich blue which whips around in the wind. It’s the same cloak that I just watched Marcello take off, though this cloak is decidedly more torn. He is standing next to a figure with golden yellow hair, intricately woven braids whip in the wind.
It's myself, although I’m surprised that since I am here in this vision, I’m not viewing it through my own eyes. But then these visions of mine have no rhyme, no reason, and they follow no rules. After all, I shouldn’t even be able to glimpse into the future. What does it matter if I view it through my future self’s eyes or looking on from a distance?
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I will myself forward. In the span of time, it takes me to blink, I’m standing beside myself looking on. I have something gripped in my hand, I’m not sure what it is until I look closer and realize with a sickening jolt that it is a severed finger.
I quickly count all the fingers of my vision self, and then Marcello to be safe but we both seem to have all our fingers. Which means that I somehow get ahold of someone else’s finger.
The Laduga in the vision holds up the finger while raising another item in her spare hand, it’s a stone covered in runic markings. Suddenly there is a great rumble. The ground begins to give way. Only instead of collapsing downward, the earth rises in the sky, chunks of snow raining down in front of the vision version of myself and Marcello.
