Njord will be a faint memory soon enough.
Njord, the disgusting pig, will pay.
His fate is sealed.
Njord is going to fucking die.
CHAPTER 20
My mood is soured by Eidunn’s story. Of course I don’t blame her. Who could? Any young girl hopes to find a loving husband, and for Eidunn, it would have been the key to her chain.
I blame men. Bastard men. It’s terrifying, the risk I took sneaking out with Ari last night. The risk I am taking flirting with Vidar. I am but a slave girl, like Eidunn. An easy victim, barely protected by law.
I close my eyes and splash water from a rain barrel on my face. It cleanses my mind, recenters me. Hopefully, not all men are bastards. Eidunn’s story haunts me. Forcing a woman, coercing her… it should be punishable by death. When I rule the heavens, men will pay dearly for such foul acts. Pay with their blood.
“Kilda.” A familiar voice behind me. Vidar.
“My lord.” I wipe my face dry with my apron.
“The jarl summons you.”
Curses. Thyra must have talked to Sigurd, told him of my gluttony. I hope I am still allowed to study with the Volva. I’m sure she is trying to block me from gaining any power among the locals. That woman is merciless.
“Then I shall come.”
“Now,” he says.
I turn to him. He isn’t wearing his usual leather. He is wearing a bright blue tunic over red pants, held in place by silver brooches. I raise my eyebrows.
“Hey,” he says with a grin. “I can change clothes too, you know.”
“It’s a good look,” I reply. “A true jarl’s son.”
“Why am I feeling that’s a subtle insult?”
He pouts his lips and folds his arms, not annoyed, but getting there.
“I just…” I struggle to find the words without mentioning Eidunn’s story. “I was thinking about last night.”
“I enjoyed our chat.”
“So did I. That’s what’s scaring me.”
“Scaring you?” He feigns confusion, broadening his shoulders.
“Scaring me,” I confirm. “You are the jarl’s son. I am a slave girl.”
“It was just some harmless fun. Never hurt anyone.”
Vidar focuses on my admission of enjoyment, not my fear.
“That’s just it—harmless fun. Soon you will need a wife. You will need sons. I don’t want to be some harmless fun until you find someone worthy of marrying a jarl’s son.”
“I’m sorry you see it that way. It was never my intention to?—”
“I need to protect my reputation, Vidar. I’m sorry.”
I have just interrupted a noble. A man like Vidar should correct me. Most slave owners would punish their thralls for such insolence. My spine prickles as I wait for his response. Does he view me as an equal? Or just a slave to order around and toy with?
