“I want you,” he whispers.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss and pull back my arm.
He freezes. The worst part is, I want him to want me. But that ship has sailed. He has shown his true face. I point at the bed.
“You fucking stay here. I’ll get your fucking ring. Then we will see.”
“Kilda, please, let’s go together.”
He doubts me, of course. He thinks I’m some useless thrall girl. They all do. It will make what’s coming taste sweeter.
“Shut the fuck up.”
I head for the door. But a thought enters my mind. Of course. The bone I enchanted with Eidunn. I go to the bowl where I store all types of shit.
It sits in my hand. I feel its thin magic. A slight hum against my skin. It will have to do. There is no time. Morning will come.
I don’t turn to Ari. If I do, I might just stay. Pay the price. I’ll fucking show him. I stomp to the door.
“Don’t fucking move,” I say as I open it.
No one is around the house. The darkness swallows me. Gone is the lightness of summer, the long nights. Autumn is here. Snow will follow.
The cool air refreshes me. Time to focus. No more begging. No more crying. Just the job. The goal.
If I fail now, it’s the end of my story. No time for emotions or impulse.
This is the moment. If he thinks I’m nothing without him, I’ll fucking show him.
Freya, guide my hands, or curse them. Like it makes a fucking difference. Like I give a shit. I don’t look back. I barely have a plan.
A deep breath helps my senses come alive. I belong in the night. My feet seek the shadows. I’ve done this a dozen times.
Let’s steal this fucking ring.
CHAPTER 76
The hall looms over me like a sleeping Fenrir. A starving belly. Empty. Silent. The dying embers barely give light, leaving the room in murky darkness.
Perfect.
I slip inside, pressing my back against the wall. I control my breath. Any slip-up will mean death. If the gods know of my presence, let them hold their tongue. The shadows swallow me, and I swallow my fear. I belong in the night. The night belongs to me. Let it stay true.
It may be crazy, but this feels right. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be. Perhaps the Norns are guiding me, or perhaps they are laughing at my coming doom.
A creak.
I freeze.
A guard steps through the door on the other side. I don’t know his name. He can’t hold his spear straight as he mumbles to himself. Probably downed a few ales to mourn Thyra’s passing.
His boots scrape against the floorboards as he shuffles deeper in, scanning the room with a bored expression. His gaze passes by me. No reaction.
My heart pounds like a hammer on its forge. He looked right through me.
“Oi! You coming or not? We’re throwing.”
A voice outside. Laughter. Guards throwing dice and gambling while on duty. Not honorable, but just what I need. Men neglecting their duty, no surprise there. Maybe they are mourning Thyra. This is what happens when Sigurd lets everything hang loose.
