If I just make it back now. Give Ari his fucking ring. Orherring, rather. Then we shall see. Either way, tonight, I flee. My hair will dance in the wind.
I will be free. With or without the mangy crow.
The grass is moist. The air is crisp. Soon the darkness will retreat for the benefit of day. I must be gone by then. Rushing to Ylvin’s camp is the only option. To regroup with Eidunn. She deserves joy after everything I dragged her through. Maybe I do too. We will hug. We will laugh.
Ari can come and go as he pleases. I hope he comes, if I’m being honest. But I don’t plan to tell him. Imagine if he picked me over some wealthy queen. What would that make me? My body quivers at the thought. Maybe he will choose to be with me. Let the Norns carve in my favor. Just this once.
Imagine the life we could share. He is a skald. Jarls pay good money for such services. I could be by his side, wearing my gleaming necklace. Even now, the necklace’s silken purr lingers in my chest. If he leaves me, the necklace is still mine.
I arrive at the door. No one to be seen. It fucking worked. No problem. I open the door and step in, closing it behind me. A wave of prickles invades my skin, a foreign energy. It feels like… eager reunion?
Ari stands, looking ten years older than when I left him just half an hour ago.
“Where have you been?” he asks sternly.
My stupid heart leaps at his voice. Even when he’s being strict. Is his anger some confused way of showing care?
“Where do you think?” I say with a triumphant grin.
I toss the satchel on the table, but instantly regret it. He can have the ring. Fuck the ring. But the necklace is mine. Myprize. Ari is a hidden Jotnar. A liar. Maybe he’s a thief too. The necklace is too gorgeous, irresistible. It’s perfect.
Who’s to say he won’t kill me for the loot and disappear into the night?
He raises an eyebrow. His eyes dart between me and the satchel. It’s like he can’t believe it. Guess what? I’m not just a victim. I’m not prey. I’m a predator. I strike. Just like him.
“Is it really?—”
“Wait,” I bark, stepping forward.
I place the satchel back around my neck, just to be sure. Of course, I’m keeping the ruby-studded roaring lynx masterpiece. That’s only for me. It’s meant for me. I can feel its warmth, even through the leather. Picking the ring out, I hold it up in the dim light.
Ari breathes in sharply.
“You fucking did it,” he whispers.
He looks genuinely impressed. Just what I had hoped. His admiration thrills me. I’m not a joke. Not a slave. I take what I want. It’s good he learns this now, so there aren’t any more misunderstandings. The ring shines pale in the dim light. The hearth warms the deep sapphire set in the shivering metal. I throw it up and down in my hand, like it’s a simple stone.
“Oh, you want this old thing?” I say with a grin I know is cocky.
“You have no idea how much I’ve dreamt of holding that ring.”
“Really? Why didn’t you steal it yourself?”
Freya’s ass. Why can’t I just lay off? Let him have it. I’m always picking a fight. But I’m actually curious. He’s been here two years. Surely, he could have gotten his hands on it, had he truly wanted to. Probably too busy seducing young maidens and reciting old tales. Too busy taking thrall girls to strawberry patches and making them swoon. He frowns at me.
“You broke into the treasury?”
“No, Ari, I asked Sigurd for it… Of course I did.”
He steps forward, laying his hands on my shoulders. For a heartbeat, I melt into the warmth of his touch. It’s the opposite of the frost I felt that time, when he healed. Even now, I yearn for him to stroke me.
“Do you have any idea what would have happened if you were caught?”
I shake my shoulders to loosen his grip. Never mind being stroked.
“A simple thank you would have been better,” I snap.
“You would have been killed.”
