She glanced at the little girl, who’d been watching her.
Genevra set her jewel-like gaze on hers and swiped away a stray lock of golden hair from her eyes. “You are not from Bristolton. I do not remember ever seeing you.”
Camelee smiled at her, as if she could not help herself, also glad for the change of topic. She had a dreadful feeling in her guts about Hild’s mother. “I arrived this morning.”
“Just in time to be captured by the Northmen?” Genevra asked, her eyes going wide. “You poor dear. Let me tend to you.”
At first, Camelee didn’t want a stranger trying to “tend” to her, but Genevra was a kind woman with a compassionate ear. And there was something about her, something Camelee couldn’t put her finger on. But it made her feel comfortable, comforted, and they’d barely said a word to each other.
“Goodness, what did you say you are called?” Genevra asked, bringing her fingers to her forehead. “Did you already tell me and I…oh, if you did tell it to me, it is only because there is so much going on with the poor babe that I—”
“No, no, I haven’t given it yet. I’m so sorry. It’s Camelee.”
“Camelee! What a lovely name!”
Camelee offered her a warm smile. Genevra was a kind person. It was nice to find one, even if Camelee had to go back a thousand years to do it.
“Mumma!” Hild took up crying again. She yawned and closed her eyes as if she just couldn’t hold them open another second, but she needed her mother before she could relax and rest. Camelee wanted to comfort her. She understood that feeling. She also remembered giving up hope of her mother—her true mother—ever finding her. And then giving up trying to find her mother. She learned how to go to sleep on her own.
“There now, little one,” Genevra cooed, sitting by the fire, and pulling Hild into her lap. “Remember what the chief said, he will try to find her and return her to you, aye?”
Hild nodded and rested her head on Genevra’s bosom, and then finally closed her eyes.
Camelee sat near them, looking at the little girl. All the emotions she’d been holding back for the dozen or so hours came like liquid fire to the back of her throat and the brims of her eyes.
Genevra said nothing but reached out in the fiery light to hold Camelee’s hand.
“I’m sorry. I don’t usually cry, but I’m just thinking of her future,” she confessed, heedlessly wiping her eyes.
“We do not know what the years hold for her,” the older woman offered.
“But we do, Genevra. And it isn’t good. Unless you consider a hard life of work, I mean toil, fun.”
“We are not promised afunlife, Daughter.”
“Don’t call me that,” Camelee scolded, her expression going cold. “I’m not your daughter.”
Genevra smiled gracefully. “But you could be.”
Camelee stood up. “But I’m not.” She marched off without another word, not understanding why she was so upset, just knowing she was.
Mothers couldn’t be trusted.
*
She opened hereyes to the low, morning sun, and the two Viking warrior-looking men returning on their horses. She sat up on her pallet. They were alone. Hild’s mother was not with them. Her heart sank.
And then hardened on Fin. On all of them for raiding and killing these women’s husbands, for making Hild an orphan in this crappy world of theirs, if, God forbid, she was truly in it.
The chief’s cerulean gaze found hers. Before she let him bewitch her again, she turned and went the other way. Why did this have to happen? He would never believe her over his second in command. Why should he? She had proof of absolutely nothing, except Fin’s confession of being the last person to see her alive. Not only that, but Wolf hardly knew her. Even if she had proof, he probably wouldn’t believe her.
Fin wouldn’t be punished, and she couldn’t stand the thought of it. She wouldn’t forgive Wolf for letting it go.
She disappeared into the bushes to relieve herself, on this, her second day here. She wiped miserably with snow and then cleaned her hands with more snow, and a few tears.
Instead of returning to the camp, Camelee realized that no one had been following her. The chief and Fin had gone to Hild. She was alone. She didn’t have much time. She didn’t think about possibilities or consequences, just about escaping.
She ran. Soon, her Uggs were soaked through with freezing boggy water. Tall reeds grew all around her. This didn’t look like anywhere in Manhattan that she knew of. New Jersey maybe? Pennsylvania?
