I shook away those thoughts.
“I suppose we should head back,” I said, my voice more strained than it had any right to be. “I just need to do something first.”
I shrugged the satchel off my shoulder and pulled out the cheese I’d packed inside. Then, without daring to glance atRune, I placed it on the ground just inside the cave’s entrance. The dragon might not think much of me now, but if there was one thing I knew, it was that Arvid’s cheese could please anyone.
It was my night to cook. After every gruesome detail about my truth had come out, I’d insisted that Rune let me do a bit more around the cottage to earn my keep. So we took turns preparing dinner now. The night before, he’d rustled up roasted pork, along with some fresh bread and greens dripping in butter. And when I’d asked him if there was anything in particular he wanted tonight, he’d vanished out the door without comment.
An hour had passed since he’d left, so I’d gotten started on stewing some barley I’d found stashed in his cupboard. Other than a sack of potatoes, there wasn’t much else by way of food, at least that I could find. By the time I’d begun to consider leaving the pot over the hearth-fire to go in search of some mushrooms, Rune threw open the door and strode in with a line of fresh cod tossed over his shoulder.
“You all right making this?” he asked without preamble, tossing the fish onto the table.
I eyed him, still stirring the barley. “Did you just go catch some fish?”
“Of course. Where did you think I went?”
“Since you left without a word, I thought you might have decided the dragon had the right idea. Maybe you went in search of your own cave to hide away in.”
“Tempting,” he said. “I think I’ll wait until after you cook me that fish, though.”
“Keep talking like that, and I’ll throw this barley into a bowl and call it a day.”
“Go ahead.” His lips curled in the corners. “I know where you hid the rest of the cheese. Keep me hungry, and I’ll gladly eat the whole damn lot of it.”
I shot him a mock pout. “I didn’thidethe cheese.”
“You moved it from my food cupboard.”
“I just thought it’d be better off in my room. You know, so that I don’t disturb you again when I need a midnight snack.”
Rune crossed the room, bringing with him the scent of salt and brine. As he drew closer, I noticed the droplets of water curling down his skin. His tunic was damp, the material clinging to his torso and defining every ridge of his chest. The pulse in my neck thrummed.
“Why do you insist on getting wet all the time when all it does is hurt you?” Sighing, I released the wooden spoon. “At this rate, you’ll run out of salve soon.”
“I went fishing in the sea, Frida. The salt water doesn’t harm me,” he said.
“Oh, right.” My eyes skated across his wet clothes, heat curling through my stomach. In the days since it had last rained, his welts had mostly healed. And looking at him now, my fingers tensed, as if recalling the hard planes of his body when I’d applied the salve.
I cleared my throat, and Rune’s eyes searched mine, like he could read the errant thoughts in my head.
“Are you sure you want to go back to that place?” he asked. Again.
“Yes, Rune. I’m sure.” I turned back to the barley. It had congealed into a sticky mess that looked about as appealing as a bowl of mud. It was a good thing Rune had gone fishing, or we really would be dining on my last wheel of cheese tonight.
“All right, Frida.” He sighed. “In that case, I’ve got something to show you after dinner. It’ll help with Eldi.” A pause. “But I need you to make a promise. No one can know about this, leastof all Erik or anyone else who’s a part of the guild. Not even your brother.”
Curiosity prickled the back of my neck, and I turned to him with a raised brow. “Consider me intrigued.”
Rune pointed at the fish. “Food first. Gift second. If I’m going to share my secrets, I’d like to eat something that doesn’t look like mud soup.”
I grinned. “Fair enough.”
After dinner, Rune and I sat beside the fire with Moira stretched across the floor by our feet. While I’d cleaned up, he’d disappeared into his room and returned with a small burlap sack. He dropped it on the table between us and steepled his hands beneath his chin, an expectant expression on his face.
“Any idea what that is?” he asked.
“I assume it’s Galdur sand of some variety.” I eyed him. “Fildur sand, for fire?”
“And what would make you think that?”
