She finds Sigvid’s eyes, and the tension in her upper back eases.
“Might I ask, why did you store this in your garden shed?”
“No one has found the chest since I placed it there ten winters ago.” He shrugs.
She eyes him suspiciously. “Seriously? Your gardener or a housekeeper didn’t find them?”
“Do I look like someone who employs a gardener or a housekeeper?”
“In the future, Guardian, please don’t stow away the Sacred Stones in such an obvious location.”
“Storing them is not part of my job description, Keeper. I do believe their next secure location would be your choice.” His smug grin is both infuriating and endearing.
“What an afternoon.” She laughs breathlessly.
Avina is overwhelmed with the stress from the Arena escape to arriving in Toftlund. Yet, standing on the slope gazing up at Sigvid, she knows this is where she needs to be.
He grasps her shoulders, staring longingly at her. “You were amazing with the Ulv and removing Sven’s body to safety.” He shakes his head with a growing smile. “I am proud to have fought with you at my side.”
She beams up at him. Warmth spreads through her chest and into her soul. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses his tickly bearded cheek, leaving him astonished.
“No one has ever said they were proud of me,” she breathes. “And I don’t think I’ve ever actually wanted someone to say those words until now.”
31
AVINA
November 10th, Year 100, 9th Era
Cliffside Burial, Salt Province
Avina stands slightly behind Sigvid, grateful for his broad shoulders wrapped in a bear fur cloak to block her from the view of his Drengr. No matter what he says about his ownership of her, some of their eyes still bore daggers.
Despite her unease at being anywhere near Sigvid as his equal at a funeral for the son of one of his Inner Circle, she knows the funeral is not about her or the Salt Prince.
As they brace against the falling snow along the cliff edge, Sven’s remains remind her they gather to bury in the cold saltwater of the South Sea.
Unlike the Ridge, which conceals the dead in thick stone coffins above ground, or the Timber and its winding underground catacombs, the Salt buries their bodies in the sea.
Avina feels a tug at her side. After much arguing, Thora eventually agreed to a lovely long-sleeved black dress and wool cloak in place of her armor.
Throughout the ceremony, the young girl clings to Avina’s side.
She wraps her arms around her without thinking, knowing Thora must be freezing. When she brushes aside her dark mass of curls, she finds her sobbing.
Avina’s insides twist at the sight.
Since Sigvid told Thora about Sven’s fate, the girl has been inconsolable.
Avina places a light kiss on the top of Thora’s unruly dark curls. “I have you. You are safe.” She whispers, only for the girl to cry harder.
Avina’s gaze fixes on Sven’s remains, wrapped in a black funeral cloth. A couple of Drengr, including Kar’s next oldest son, Lod, ventured up Fjell Mountain to bring Sven home.
Thankfully, the Ulv was long gone and returned to its home in the Abyss. Sigvid theorized that once they discovered Sven’s body, the creature’s master would send it back to the Abyss.
Kar and one of his other muscled children lift the body and carry Sven to the cliff edge.
Even with the howling wind, the silence around them is deafening. Ingirid, Kar’s wife, and his younger children begin a haunting chant in time with the body's swaying. Their sorrow cuts through the air, ensuring all hear their grief like a punch to the gut.
