“I’m not sure what it is, but that man irks me. It’s like he’s hiding something. Trust me, that guy has a secret. A bad secret.”
A thrall woman a stone’s throw away waves with a broad grin on her face before bowing her head deep. I smile and nod back. Vidar turns and notices the woman paying me respect.
“I’m impressed,” he says. “The thralls view you highly.”
“They enjoyed the party. I was afraid they would dislike me, with the house and all.”
“Even they know that you weren’t born to be a thrall. I knew it the first second I saw you. That’s why I bought you.”
“You bought me because I wasn’t a slave?”
He laughs at his contradictory statement.
“You’re better than that. It’s easy to tell.”
“Oh? How so?”
“You’re fire. You burn hot.” He leans in. “I love that about you.”
Burn hot? I think Ari said the same on the way down the mountain.
“Even a child knows not to play with a flame,” I say with a sly smile.
“See?” he points at me. “That’s exactly what I mean. Other thrall girls, they just nod and obey. They just give in.”
“It’s that or the whip,” I state bluntly.
“You know what I mean. You could also have been whipped.”
“Yes, but?—”
“If all thralls were as feisty as you, we would all be in trouble.”
He laughs at his own joke, as if feisty slaves is the craziest of ideas.
Vidar is an attractive man. I have played with the thought of enjoying some fun with him, but now, I find him slightly repulsive. How lightly he speaks of girls being cowed and whipped. He has clearly never considered what it’s like wearinga woman’s shoes. Or her dress. I clear my throat as I pat down my blue robe.
“Many of the girls have both honor and wit. They are folk like us.”
I fail to hide the tone of defiance from my voice. I’m contradicting the future owner of the farm, the future lord. But then again, that’s what he claims he likes about me. What he respects.
“Perhaps they do,” he says. “But the world stands as it was built by Odin and his brothers. It isn’t always fair.”
“Odin has animals to aid him.”
“And Thor has thralls.”
I feel my temper flaring. Bubbles rise from the simmering depths to the surface. Ylvin herself said it—slaves don’t exist, people in chains do. With how Vidar has treated me, I assumed he was respectful to thralls, like his father. I had no idea he viewed the world in this color. A privilege of his birth.
“Excuse me, I need to?—”
“Okay, Kilda,” he interrupts, as he grabs my arm, keeping me in place. “I’m sorry for offending you. I was trying to give you a compliment.”
“I understand.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To see if the jarl is up yet.”
