Is that what Father is trying to give me?
Bjarke chuckled. “None taken. My poetry is reserved for Ingrid.”
We entered town, and near the center, I stopped. “You can go find Ingrid if you’d like. I don’t need someone to go with me.”
“My father wants me to accompany you. I’m not willing to suffer his wrath.”
I smirked. “Yes, well, my father said I only had to take you into town.”
Bjarke blinked and then laughed. “I should have realized that’s what he meant. But still, Ilka was in town, and she’d tell my father if she found out.”
I made a face. I didn’t like Ilka. She was beautiful, but that’s about it. Because their family had a number of thralls, she hardly ever had to lift a finger, so she spent her time using her status as the jarl’s daughter to push her weight around.
“Speaking of…” Bjarke muttered.
I turned my attention in the direction he looked to find a fair-skinned woman with even fairer long hair. With her was another woman with tan skin and chestnut hair. A collar hung around her neck and she carried a basket full of items.
There was also a man standing next to Ilka. My gut clenched when I realized it was Týr. Why was he here? He never came by so soon after a previous visit. And why was he with Ilka?
He provided her with his intense, undivided attention while she spoke to him. Ilka leaned close, her posture alluring, and it was clear by her facial expressions that she was being flirtatious.
My fists clenched, and I pressed my lips together, struggling to shove back the burning sensation building in my chest. I turned away from this. “Let’s get moving. I have a lot to do.”
I didn’t have a right to be jealous. He could request any woman to entertain him, and Ilka was a beauty. Possibly the most beautiful in Runavík. She would be perfect for a god like Týr.
“Are you sure?” Bjarke asked. “Týr is there. Don’t you want to speak with him?”
“He’s busy.” My response came out too clipped.
“Who is busy?” a familiar, deep voice said close to my ear.
I shrieked and jumped back, whirling around. Bjarke and Týr barked out laughs. I pressed my hand to my chest, my heart threatening to beat out of my ribcage.
“I think we’re lucky she didn’t use her magic,” Bjarke said through laughs.
My cheeks burned hot. “I have control over it now, thank you.”
Týr grinned and took my fishing spear. “Just in case, I’ll hold onto this.”
My nose scrunched. “You’re not taking my axe.”
His eyes drifted down my body, sending a flash of warmth through me, before settling on my tool and then flicking back up to my face. “I would never touch a woman’s assets without her permission.”
A smile curled up half my face.
Bjarke chuckled and handed me my baskets. “I see you’re in capable hands now, so I’ll be off to find Ingrid.”
I glanced his sister’s way, where she still stood, fuming. “Not afraid your sister will say something to your father?”
He grunted and held out a hand to Týr. “If my father thinks I’m brazen enough to compete with him, he’s crazy.”
I blinked. Compete with? I shook it off. “Have fun with Ingrid.”
He smirked. “Oh, I will.”
A devious idea came to me. “Get her pregnant. Your father can’t stop you from marrying her then.”
He belted out a boisterous laugh and walked off. “I like the way you think, Astrid.”
