Ari is a man. What was I expecting? That he would share his worries and fears with a woman? A thrall girl at that. I realize how caught up I’ve been in my own life. How my focus has solely been on my own work with Ylvin. It paid off. I’ve become an enchantress, sure. But I haven’t asked Ari how his lessons with Elof have been, not once.
“Did you learn anything useful during our stay?” I ask, keeping my voice chipper.
“Sure, sure, I learned some slave girls can’t cook and can’t swim.”
“Oh, come on,” I howl, exasperated. “I’m trying to get to know you.”
“Right.”
“Besides, I can swim. Okay? Cooking? Fair enough, but I learned a lot from you.”
“I’ve yet to see you cook anything at all.”
“Tell you what, you tell me what you learned with Elof, and I’ll cook you something back at the farm. I can’t promise it will be edible, but at least it?—”
He stops abruptly, making me almost crash into his back. Tossing your legs out mindlessly down a steep decline while chatting freely doesn’t leave you prepared for a sudden halt. He speaks without turning.
“Listen, Kilda, I don’t ask you about Ylvin’s teachings. You don’t need to ask me about Elof’s. It’s a little late to be polite.”
He continues downward. I’m confused. He seems serious about all this. It’s not a playful conversation to him. After ourshared moment yesterday, I was expecting us to be more… friendly. He saved my life, dried my body. We shared body heat, by Odin.
I refuse to concede defeat.
“Ylvin taught me to empty my mind. To commune with my feelings, my memories, and expand them out into reality. Release them.”
“Commune?” he says. “Big word for a thrall girl.”
The flame of irritation burns to a wildfire. I won’t let this piece of shit ruin my moment of understanding, my awakening. So rude.
“At least this thrall girl can read runes,” I say, trying to offend the man’s honor and intelligence. Ari just laughs at my insult.
“You really think I can’t read runes?”
“What? But that’s why?—”
“I’m a fucking skald, Kilda. Think a little.”
“So why did Sigurd send you?”
“No idea. To keep an eye on you, I presume.”
I snort. What the fuck?
“And did you keep an eye on me?”
“If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be talking.”
“You’re just Sigurd’s spy?”
“Sigurd never requested anything from me. He said I should learn runic magic, no?”
“He did… and?”
“That’s all he told me.”
“So did you learn runic magic?”
“Elof can read, of course, but he isn’t an enchanter.”
