She gave Ragnar a long-considering look, then shrugged. “I’ll let him tell you when he’s ready. In the meantime, you two best get going if you don’t want to stay. The evening is young, but it won’t be for long.”
Shoving down my curiosity, I threw my arms around her solid torso and hugged her tight. She lifted me from the ground, like I weighed less than a sack of potatoes, and clung to me. When she put me down, I could have sworn her eyes were glazed with tears.
“I’ll be back soon,” I promised her. “With an invitation to join us for Yule.”
“I suppose if anyone can convince them, it’s you.” Smiling, she turned to Ragnar, flashing her teeth. “Take good care of her, or I’ll show you why us mountain trolls have the reputation that we do.”
I sighed. “Ulrika.”
“You have my word,” Ragnar said solemnly. “I would rather stand in the flames than have her get burned.”
“Well, I would certainly hope so,” Ulrika said with a crisp nod.
“The two of you are impossible.” I grabbed Ragnar’s arm and tugged him toward the wagon. “Come on, let’s get going before you start breaking out into battle stances.”
“Safe travels,” Ulrika called after us.
I offered her one final wave goodbye and led Ragnar to the front of his wagon. Together, we heaved up the yokes and pulled it back onto the path that led into town. The rumbling wheels swallowed up the silence, the heavier yoke digging into my hands. We’d weighed down the wagon with sacks of potatoes, flour, oats, honey, and dried meats. It was enough food for Yule and more.
Halfway back to Riverwold, the bulging clouds cracked open and heaved out a torrential downpour of rain. The wind churned up leaves and grass, throwing it into us. Ragnar dropped the yoke, grabbed my hand, and threw aside the burlap. He lifted me up with his hands around my waist, tossing me inside just as lightning crackled nearby.
He thundered in behind me and tied the burlap shut as tight as he could get it. The wagon shook from the force of the wind.
It had only been seconds, but the rain had seeped into my cloak. It dripped onto my boots, soaking the leather. But it was so dark inside the wagon, I could see nothing but the vague outline of the crates and sacks of food piled around us.
“The Elding strikes again,” I said, my warm breath frosting the air. “Hopefully, this storm doesn’t endure as long as the last one did.”
It had taken all day and night for the Elding to take its rain-logged clouds and wind and edge back over the sea. At least we’d been in town that time. Now we were stuck out in the hills, cramped inside a fully packed wagon.
“At least we have enough food,” Ragnar said with a quiet chuckle.
Despite the circumstances, I grinned. “Ulrika might very well track you down and make good on her threats if you eat all her food before it gets to Riverwold.”
His laughter grew deeper, warmer. The sound was like a soothing heat against the chill. “I don’t doubt it for a moment.”
The wind gusted against the side of the wagon, rocking the wheels. I stumbled forward. Ragnar caught me in his arms. In the dark, the fiery glint of his eyes was the only thing I could see.
“You’re shivering,” he murmured.
My teeth were chattering, but I’d been so distracted by everything else I hadn’t noticed. Gently, Ragnar unclasped the front of my cloak and tugged the wet material away from my body. It did little good. My tunic had gotten wet, and the chill had well and truly seeped into my skin.
“It’s a shame we can’t build a fire,” I said, half-joking.
Ragnar held up his palm, and flames came alive on his skin. Sudden warmth blasted toward me, its lambent glow spilling across the cramped space. It was only now I could properly see him. His wet hair sent droplets down his cheeks, and his curls kissed his sharply pointed ears. I had the sudden urge to reach up and brush the strands out of his eyes. And for the first time, I finally did it.
My fingers tiptoed across his warm skin. Steam hissed between us. He tensed beneath my touch; his breath caught. The flames on his palm dulled to a pale flicker, but the heat remained. Even so, my damp tunic clung to my skin, and I could not shake the cold.
Ragnar frowned. “You’re still trembling.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“This could go on for hours.” Jaw tightening, he glanced around the wagon. He pointed at the corner behind me. “I have some dry blankets back there. You should get out of those wet clothes and bundle up. Try to sleep if you can.”
He started to move toward the back flap.
I reached for him. “Wait, where are you going?”
“I told you before, I don’t mind the cold. I meant storms, too.” He gestured at the small scrap of floor where I stood. “There’s hardly any room in here, and you should have your privacy.”
