“Lass, that wretched wench turned me into this form for thirty winters. I am sorry for your loss. I will not assist her only son.”
“Lavinia’s actions against you are despicable. Calder Avardsson,” She emphasizes his surname even if his name alone sticks in her throat, ‘has done you no harm.”
His little paw scratches his chin. He sighs hard enough that his furry head leans back. “I don’t have a table large enough for him.”
Her bottom lip trembles as she senses he might be digging his paws in on this.
She refuses to lose Calder.
“Sir Fitz,” she steadies her wavering tone, aware that she is just moments away from breaking down. “That man,” she gestures towards the Iss Drengr, “is leading us to destroy Lavinia and Makt. As a humble woman, I beg you to save the only man you know is powerful enough to defeat them. We will even build a table for you.”
“Do you know who he is, lassie?” Fitz lowers his voice so only she can hear. “Who he truly is?”
His question should rattle her, causing her to reflect on everything that has transpired since they met on his ship in the Toftlund harbor. Yet, only heavy despair falls over her, nearly forcing her to the ground at his tiny feet.
What if I never awake in his arms again?
With a hard swallow against her emotions and blinking back the tears threatening to spill, she nods curtly. There will be a time to confront the truth that Calder conceals from her, but that time is not now. Besides, she is not yet ready to face the reality she knows deep within her soul.
Fitz kicks the ground. “Get him into my home. I’ve got work to do.”
Aura scrambles back to Calder’s side and helps Helga lay him inside the one-room shack still assembled for an adult-sized man before vacating.
After Fitz shoos everyone from his workspace, Argnier leaves the shack to ask Edmund for a drink.
Aura collapses on the ground with her head between her legs while Helga leans stoically against a tree.
“Hey, cousin?” Edmund approaches Aura. “Want some mead?”
“Give me some fucking space, Edmund!” Her tension from the temple funnels into her concern over Calder’s fragile state, erupting in an outburst that leaves her sobbing.
Before anyone can intervene, she stomps down to the small dock by the bank.
Sure, she has questions about Fitz, but there is only one man on her mind, and his life lies in the balance of a godsdamn weasel!
She settles on the edge of a dock that looks like one good gust of wind will send it straight to the Depths.
She swears she hears whispers in the back of her mind—Briny and Maeve calling to her from the presence of the Treland Sacred Stone.
Ultimately, she pockets the nautilus shell while watching the moon set over the small lake formed by the channel. Makt’s great axe rests across her lap, its power pulsating beneath her fingers as she strokes the jagged edge.
In the quiet of the night, tears continue to flow as she admits the truths in her heart that she cannot bear to speak. To think she thought her life finally made sense. Her internal compass was pointing toward the Iss Drengr, and his toward her.
What will it mean for their journey if he is who she believes him to be?
“Aura?” Helga steps onto the dock, still in full armor. “May I sit with you?”
She nods without looking her way.
The vísir joins her on the pier with a sigh, peering up at the moon. “I do not recall the last time I had a spare moment to reflect on the beauty of the continent. And gods, I’d give anything to share a mead in Salt once more.”
“My parents speak highly of your courage. Mother thought your affection lay with Father, and I fear her guilt still plagues her sometimes.” Aura says thickly, wiping away her tears as she twists to see Helga watching her with a sad smile.
“No one understood my sentiment for Thrain.” She glances at her lap. “Yes, he was cruel, and yet I felt in my bones, in my very being, that I could save him from himself. Sometimes, he would touch me with all the love in the world. And dammit did I feel validated.”
She sighs, returning her beautiful brown eyes to Aura. “Your father and I fought for winters over my love of Thrain. He almost denied me my Drengr spot, fearing I would betray him. Yet he still fought to save my life even as Thrain slit my throat.”
A slight smirk tugs at Aura’s lips. “That sounds like Pops.”
