For the love of the Goddess, is Bertie managing to flirt with a Drengr? What broke in this universe?
She sighs loudly enough for the men to refocus on her. “Anyone care to explain?”
Bertie begins sobbing incoherently, which signals Avina to corral them all inside Blackwood. While Thora and Slode light a fire in the hearth, she wraps an arm around her cousin’s shoulders and sits him on the couch.
“Let’s start with why you are in Toftlund.” She coaxes him.
He manages to compose himself enough to speak semi-coherently. “Viktor squandered everything. He gambled away my inheritance and then abandoned me… for a woman!”
Oh, Bertie.
She hugs her cousin, knowing all he needs is her support despite reeking of body odor and sweet alcohol. They will discuss nitty-gritty details tomorrow over tea.
“How did you end up at Blackwood?” She looks between Slode’s shifty form by the fireplace and Bertie, who is trying to sober up.
“That might be my fault.” If anything, Slode looks sheepish. “Hewas trying to buy a cask of mead from a barmaid while drunk and then started singing.” Is Slode smirking?
Goddess, I’m unsure if I can handle my two lives colliding.
“I stepped in to remove him from the tavern, but he asked for Sigvid.”
“Sigvid?” She narrows her eyes. “You knew I was here, and you asked for Sigvid? My captor?”
Bertie shrugs. “Felt like he might have more pull than you, Shadow.”
“But you are here for me?” At least she has no reason to think he wants to meet Sigvid for the first time. And she trusts Sigvid will begrudgingly ensure Bertie’s safety.
This time, her cousin returns her embrace. “I love you, cousin. You’re the only person I knew wouldn’t judge me. And I just needed you.”
She smiles and lays her head on his shoulder. “Of course. You can stay with us until you’re ready.”
A tiny nudge in the back of her head catches the ‘us’ comment and begins parading it around her mind. She had referred to Sigvid and her as a collective. She delights in the thought of being the lady of Blackwood, hosting her loved ones and feeding the goats until she grows old.
And then reality strikes like a bolt of lightning through her gut.
Thrain.
Thora is right. Sigvid can help, but who knows how many spies that despicable man has in Sigvid’s ranks? Her only chance is to sort a way out herself. Protect those she has grown fond of from Thrain’s wrath.
Thora tiptoes behind the seats, trying to conceal her bottle of mead within her cloak, but Avina is faster. She snags the bottle and tosses it to Slode.
“Aunt V!” Thora stomps her foot.
“I don’t want to see you drinking until you’re older. See what it will make you do.” She gestures to Bertie, who is on his back on the couch, snoring loudly, having passed out.
Thora cringes. “Fine.” Then, she disappears up the staircase toward her bedroom.
“Where is Sigvid?” Avina grumbles.
Slode sets Thora’s bottle of mead on the table without answering.
She disentangles herself from Bertie and joins him. “Where is Sigvid?” A million thoughts bombard her brain with where he could be or whose company he might keep.
He still chooses to look anywhere else but at her.
“Slode, please! I know he’s ignoring me.” She collapses into one of the wooden chairs surrounding the table, her face buried in her hands.
How has she ended up in a situation that is not her fault, yet she somehow became the villain? Again!
