He wrung his hands, looking around with increasing panic in his eyes, but Skirvir clapped him on the shoulder. “Then you and I shall both need to stand guard, whilst our sister goes in,” he said firmly. “If the men come close, you shall run and fetch her and Svein, whilst I seek to distract them, and keep the exit open for you.”
Raye’s heart dropped — was Skirvir offering tosacrificehimself for them? But his eyes were flinty, his mouth set, and he gently nudged Raye toward the tunnel. “Now go, woman,” he said. “Fulfill the goddess’ will, and save your son.”
Fulfill the goddess’ will. The gratitude heaved in Raye’s chest, and she fervently nodded, and clutched her hand to her heart. “Thank you, my brothers,” she choked, already backing down the tunnel. “Goddess be with you.”
And with that, she spun around, and ran.
64
Raye rushed down the tunnel with her heart pounding, her hands trailing along both its walls. It was narrow and close, still smelling of dampness and fresh earth, and the mud and sharp rocks scraped against her fingers, jabbed up rough and slippery beneath her feet. But it didn’t matter, nothing mattered but staying upright and moving faster, outrunning the fear and urgency clanging in her chest.
She was so close. So close. She would save her son. She would.
And the goddess was here. She had to be. Because there still weren’t any shouts from behind Raye, and somehow the light from the opening had penetrated this far, enough that she could make out the uneven ground beneath her, and clamber over rocks and puddles. And she could almost feel Svein up ahead, could almost smell him, could taste his nearness, please —
There. A faint glow of light. And Raye pushed ahead harder, faster, and yes, that was the trapdoor up into Svein’s room, its boards black and thick, streaming dusty rays of light between them. And Raye could only pray that the trapdoor wasn’t blocked somehow, that she could get through, please…
But when she shoved up against the heavy door — it opened. It opened, thank the goddess, and Raye scrambled up into the room. Into Svein’s small bedroom, both painfully familiar and startlingly foreign, with all his possessions gone, and the floor covered with muddy bootprints.
But Svein wasn’t here, and Raye burst out through the open door, frantically scanning the main room. A large fire was crackling in the fireplace, but Svein wasn’t here, he wasn’t here, had they made some horrible mistake, what if he’d run out to face the men, no —
But then — a sound. From the fireplace. Or rather, from the multiple high stacks of firewood Gaelfr had chopped, soon before they’d left. And when Raye reeled toward them, her heartbeat thundering, there —
There he was. Svein.
He was sitting tucked beneath the piles of wood, his knees pulled up, his messy head bowed, his hands clutching Mr. Snuggles tightly to his chest. But he was here, he was alive, and Raye let out a helpless sob as she rushed to crouch before him. “Svein,” she gasped. “Svein, love, you’re —”
Her voice broke, but Svein’s head snapped up, showing her his flushed, dirt-covered, tear-streaked face. His eyes blinking with obvious confusion, his nose snuffling as his nostrils flared, again and again.
“Mama?” he whispered, as his eyes widened with shock, and then relief. “Mama!”
He hurled himself forward, crashing straight into her arms, and Raye clutched him as close and tight as she could, burying her face into his hair. Svein was here, he was alive, he was safe, and the relief and gratefulness swarmed through her entire body, streamed hot tears from her eyes. Svein was safe. Safe.
He was weeping in her arms too, his body feeling unusually cold and small against her, his claws digging sharp into her back.“I’m sorry, Mama,” he gasped, between sobs. “I’m so sorry I ran away. It took so long, and I was so alone, and so scared —”
His voice cracked into sobs again, heaving all through his body, and she squeezed him even tighter, pressed a fervent kiss to his hair. “It’s all right now, love,” she croaked. “You’re safe now. I promise.”
Svein sagged heavier against her, now fully weeping into her chest with wracking, heartbroken sobs, and Raye stroked his hair, his shuddering back, as more tears streaked down her face. She’d almost lost him, almost lost her precious perfect son, but he was safe now, he had to be safe now, she would do anything, anything.
“But Ihadto run away, Mama,” Svein said, still gulping for breath against her, his body quivering all over. “I had to. Papa was going back to the bad lady, and she was going to take him away from us again!”
His voice rose into a helpless wail, while Raye squeezed him tighter, rocked him back and forth. “I — I know, love,” she managed. “I know it was scary. But your Papa Kalfr is very clever, and he’s being very careful, and we can trust that he knows how to handle —”
But Svein wrenched backwards, away from her, and his head shook back and forth as his hand scrabbled for his trouser pocket. Plucking out something small and white — another folded piece of paper. And when he drew it open, Raye’s breath caught, because it was — the portrait. That first damning, devastating portrait, the one drawn by Daisy, and showing Kalfr looking so haggard and broken, with Sybil so proudly smiling beside him.
And how — how had Svein found this drawing? How long had he had this? The last time Raye had seen it had been — when? The first day they’d come to thebyrgi, perhaps, whenKalfr and Gaelfr had fought. When Gaelfr had crumpled up the portrait, and thrown it across the room…
Raye’s eyes briefly closed, because she couldn’t remember any of them going back for it, had they? And they all must have assumed that someone else had, or maybe that it had been conveniently lost or destroyed. And meanwhile, Svein had found it, and he’d kept it all this time, surely wondering at it, and fearing for Kalfr — or even fearing that Kalfr would leave them and go back to this other woman so possessively touching him. Goddessdamnit.
“But look, Mama,” came Svein’s strained voice, as he jabbed his claw at the paper. “Look!”
Raye obeyed, glancing down at the drawing — and she couldn’t hide her flinch, or the faint growl in her throat. Because compared to the Kalfr she’d come to know again these past weeks — the Kalfr with the warm eyes, the easy grin, the lithe muscled body — this Kalfr looked even more wrong than before. Haggard, sunken, gaunt, with all the life faded from his eyes, and replaced with dread. With grief.
And the longer Raye stared at it, the more she felt a strange, striking sympathy with Gaelfr, who’d taken one look at this drawing, and upended his entire life to rush home again. And who’d been desperately determined to help Kalfr, to heal him again. No matter the cost.
“Look, Mama,” Svein said again, more urgently this time. Jabbing his claw not at the drawing of Kalfr, but of Sybil beside him, and Raye forced herself to look there, too. Fighting down a wave of rebellious fury at the sight of this beautiful woman daring to touch her mate like that, daring to smile like that when he looked so wrong…
But that wasn’t what Svein was pointing at, either. No, he was pointing at something else. Something on Kalfr’s other side, something blended into the background, something that justlooked like part of Sybil’s sleeve, from where her other arm was around Kalfr’s back. But the more Raye looked at it, peering closer, the more it looked like… something sharp. Something pointed toward Kalfr’s side…
