“Fine.” He looked down at the dead animal. “Do you think your father will be pleased with this?”
I blinked. “You can’t possibly be planning to carry that back.”
He grinned. “Don’t underestimate what I’m capable of.”
A thrilling chill ran down my spine.
To distract myself, I collected the fish and made sure I had everything. “All right, I’m ready to head back into town.”
I could go out tomorrow for the missing herbs. I didn’t want to continue today if it meant Týr had to carry around a bear.
Týr, for all the tall, muscled god he was, hauled the bear over his shoulder after he’d cleaned himself of the blood and threw his tunic back on. “Lead the way.”
I gawked for a moment, struggling to believe what I was witnessing. Then I shook it off before I thought too much into how strong this man really was.
When we arrived back in town, the townsfolk were all too willing to move out of our way. Many of the men nodded approvingly at Týr’s kill.
We arrived home a short while later, Týr never breaking a sweat. Outside the front door, the thrall woman with Ilka stood, head bowed. She looked up at our approach and rushed down to intercept.
“You shouldn’t go in,” she said in a hushed tone. “Jarl Rune is angry.”
“Let me guess, Ilka told him about what she saw in town?” I said.
The woman nodded. “He’s not pleased Bjarke left you to go off somewhere.”
I suspected that would happen. But I knew just how to handle the situation Ilka was attempting to make worse on purpose. And Týr’s presence would only help me. “I can handle it.”
The thrall opened her mouth to speak, but I silenced her with my hand. She bowed her head and stepped out of our way.
Just before I reached the front door, it flew open and Ilka exited my family home. When she spotted me, she gave me a smug smile. I ignored her, gaining an indignant huff, though based on the following offended sound and her storming off, Týr had as well.
I slowly approached the now-open door, straining to listen. The jarl was ranting.
“They parted ways!” he shouted. “Parted ways when they reached the center of the village. They were supposed to go out together, not leave because—”
“Because Týr showed up,” my father said. “Your son is smart, Rune. He won’t push a matter that he won’t win.”
The jarl snarled. Actually snarled. I’d heard rumors he might be a berserker—warriors capable of transforming into bipedal wolves or bears, with enhanced strength and other senses—but now I was wondering if that were true. “And we had an agreement, Bjørn. You and Randi help me obtain the jarl position and I make sure your family has high favor and be just as well-off. Then we’d marry our eldest daughter and son each to solidify our alliance.”
My father sighed, as if they were rehashing a conversation, yet again. “I’ve honored half of it with Leif and Frida’s marriage, even though Frida isn’t your eldest daughter because Leif took to her over Ilka. But as I’ve told you, things have changed with Astrid. I cannot agree to marry her to your son until I have confirmation.”
My brow lifted. Confirmation about what?
“And if he never does?”
“He will,” my mother said. “I’ve seen it.”
“Stay out of this, Randi,” Jarl Rune snapped. “Your predictions can be wrong.”
“And you only began pushing this marriage issue when Astrid’s magic finally manifested.” My mother’s tone had a dark edge to it. “You were content to allow your eldest son to pursue another alliance until that moment. What does that say about your desire to uphold our previous agreement?”
“Watch your tongue, Völva, or I’ll rip it out of your mouth personally.”
My hands balled into fists, and my lip curled. A muscle in my neck twitched in rhythm with the rising pulse pounding in my ears. How dare he talk to my mother that way.
Wood scraped on wood. “I will tell you this once, Rune, out of respect for our friendship. If you ever speak to my wife like that again, I will turn you into a bleating mare.”
I choked on a laugh, my anger cooling. My father certainly has a set of balls.
