Someone clears their throat.
I pull away quickly, turning to see a man standing there. His cropped hair is pushed over to one side, his chiseled face severe as he stands there, dressed in leathers with a long cloak. I recognize him instantly.
Agnar.
Amund’s dad.
He was returning with Amund when I first arrived at Skallagrim. I saw him again on the night I found Emilía dead. I was intimidated by him then. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been scared of men like him. Like my dad.
Something ripples under my skin, my fury building as I stare at Agnar. In him, I see the worst parts of my own dad. I channel all that seething anger, that rage, into my expression as I glare at him. I won’t cower to men like them.
Not anymore.
“I didn’t expect to findyouhere,” Agnar says at last.
My claws start to break through, growing longer and sharper and more dangerous. As I think of all those bruises littering Amund’s body, I want to hurt his dad. My head throbs. A low growl builds in my throat, rumbling deep within my chest, reverberating through me.
I push past him and hurry out of the clinic without a word.
No, I will no longer be afraid of men like that.
They should be afraid ofme.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXAMUND
“What was she doing here?” Father demands.
I ease myself back against my pillow, grateful Edith left without incident. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what she was going to do. Something in the air shifted. Her nails started sharpening into claws. Edith may be a berserkr, but she’d never survive a fight with my father.
No one would.
“She just came by to see how I’m doing.”
“I see,” Father says, taking the seat Edith was in moments ago. “Whatever is going on between the two of you, it needs to end. That girl is trouble.”
I grind my teeth. My first instinct is to defend Edith, but if I do, I’ll only reveal that I care for her. Father wouldn’t take that well.
“Nothing is,” I say firmly.
That much is true. Nothing can ever happen between us. Not only is she a berserkr, but Nils is clearly interested in her. I didn’t put my brother first before, but now I have to.
“Good.” Father looks me over, assessing my injuries. “You’re the worse for wear.”
A rough laugh escapes me. “I’ve been better, that’s for sure.”
I did my best to hide my pain from Edith, but Father is different. He’s too familiar with injuries, and inflicting them, to conceal anything from him.
“Is that arm broken?” he asks.
I nod. “Mother used healing magic on it, but it’ll take some time to set. In a couple of days, I should be able to—”
Father leans forward, grasping my shoulder tightly. “No, son. If you return before you’re fully healed, you’ll be placing yourself in greater danger.”
“Well, I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
“I promise, I’ll make whoever did this to you pay.” His voice turns low and menacing. Protective, even. It’s something I rarely ever hear. Father normally keeps his emotions wrapped more tightly than my injured arm. The only times I’ve seen him get emotional are when he talks about his dead brother. Or my mother.
Words fail me.
