His use of her name hurt.
“You said that we were.”
“Things have changed. I am reminded of who I need to be.”
“Please, Ragnar. I don’t want things to be like this between us.”
“They cannot be another way. I cannot be a different man. I can’t… I have to be the king.”
There was such a weight to those words. Especially with what he knew now. He had to be the king. He had to be beyond reproach. He couldn’t have any weaknesses. Because now he was comparing himself to his father even if he didn’t think he was.
“You are not your father.”
“I don’t wish to speak about that.”
“It’s important that you realize that.”
“I have not spoken to you since we came back. Do you not realize that it was intentional? I am not asking for your advice on anything. I’m not asking for you to heal me.”
Her brother’s words echoed in her head.
“But maybe you should. Maybe you should ask for some help. Goddammit, Ragnar. Maybe you could be happy.”
“Happiness has never been important to me. What is important is fulfilling my duty.”
“And what about me?”
“You were never anything but a means to an end.”
“Liar,” she whispered. “I am Freya. And that means something, it matters. It means—”
“Nothing.Nothing but fractured memory in my fractured brain. It meant nothing.”
He moved away from the stable, and stormed outside, into the wind. She followed. “I didn’t take you for a coward.”
“I am nothing like a coward,” he said, the wind was blowing at his back, the cloak that he was wearing catching the breeze. And she could see that it was the one he had worn to their wedding. With the strip torn off.
“You made vows to me,” she said. She pointed at his cloak. “You promised yourself to me.”
“And I already told you. It is not binding, as it is not a promise I made to any deity that I believe in.”
“And that’s how life works for you, isn’t it? You think that you can set your own reality with what you believe, and acknowledge and don’t believe, and don’t remember. But it isn’t true. You don’t get to decide. You don’t get to decide what’s real. You cannot fashion a new truth just to suit yourself. We made those vows. And I don’t care if it’s to a God you believe in. I believed what I said.”
“You didn’t,” he said. “If I recall correctly you told me it was the most misogynistic thing that you had ever heard.”
“Not those vows. The promise that I made to you that night in the hotel. I gave myself to you, and I meant it. And you don’t get to control how I feel. You don’t get to control what I want.”
“I don’t have to give you anything in return either.”
He began to walk away and she reached out and grabbed the edge of his cloak. He stopped walking, even though she knew full well that he didn’t have to. He gripped the edge of his cloak, and tugged it toward himself, bringing her along with it. And then he kissed her. Fern sensed the storm that was beginning to rage around them. She felt raindrops against her face, the wind picking up.
“Is this what you want?” He separated from her, his eyes wild.
“I want you,” she said. “Real and raw and difficult. I want you.”
“You may regret that.”
His kiss was ferocious. Overwhelming. His lips bruised her, and she leaned in for more.
