A sob tightened her throat and Torunn submerged her head under the water to keep it inside.
She was not brave enough to weather that storm and she could not allow herself to believe it was true. He should have taken her. She would have protected him. Perhaps she could have protected him from himself, too.
A vibration rumbled through the bottom of the washtub and Torunn’s eyes opened underwater. She blinked up at the blurry sky above the bathing room and flinched as a dark shape blotted out the light.
Before she could sit up, a large pair of hands plunged into the water and dragged her, spluttering, to the surface.
Torunn flailed, striking out what whoever was holding her, her fists connected with solid muscle and she heard a grunt of surprise from her attacker. The man’s grip relaxed and she fell back into the tub. With a quick movement, Torunn grabbed for the knife that lay beside her clothing, pulled it from its sheath and held it out in front of her.
A masculine chuckle made her blink and she pushed her wet hair off her face and wiped the water from her eyes with a furious swipe.
“Get out!” she shouted.
“But I am here by your command,” the voice rumbled.
Torunn shook her head and tried to focus on something other than the way her heart hammered in her chest. Her veins coursed with anger and terror. Had her brothers decided to kill her? Had they sent one of their warriors to slit her throat while she bathed? Would he have tried to drown her?
“What do you want?”
The man shrugged and stepped into the light. “I follow your commands… Mistress.”
Bersi Athulfsson.
She had not sent for him, that would have been her brother’s doing. And now she was standing in front of him, naked, dripping wet, knee-deep in a tub of steaming water. Goosebumps prickled her skin as she frantically tried to decide what to do.
“Are you finished with your bath?” he asked. He kept his eyes on hers and Torunn’s chest tightened as she glared back at him.
“Yes,” she snapped. She relaxed her grip on her knife, but only enough so she could stand more comfortably. She tilted her chin at the linen cloths that had been set aside for her to dry herself. Bersi followed her command and plucked them from the wooden table. He held them out awkwardly, but kept his eyes level with hers. It was a respectful gesture, but Torunn was almost angry with him for not looking. He had kissed her, after all.
She stood there, waiting for him to wrap the linen around her body, but when it became clear that he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing, she let out a grunt of frustration and dropped her knife onto her clothes. She snatched the linen out of his hands and covered her torso. The second length of cloth she wrapped around her hair and then stepped out of the wash tub and onto the wooden slats that made up the washing room’s floor. The fire that one of the serving woman had lit burned low, and she pointed to it. “Douse the fire, and then go see Heldi. She will give you work to do.”
“I have been commanded to stay by your side,” he said.
“And do what? Braid my hair?” she retorted.
“I— No.”
“Then what for? And who told you this?”
Bersi shrugged and Torunn gritted her teeth.
“You will only follow my commands.”
“This will be the only command that I will not obey,” he said simply. “I have been ordered to stay by your side.”
He would be an infuriating slave, but she had already expected that. The hope that he would be sent to do chores that were out of her sight had been dashed by his determination that he would stay with her.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Bring my clothes.”
She strode from the bathing room and into the house with Bersi following behind. She could hear conversation and laughter, but the thought of talking to any of the people in the house filled her with anger. None of them would understand how she felt, or the thoughts that swirled through her mind.
Confusion. Heartache. Pain.
Anger.
She could hear Skaro’s celebrations outside the walls of her chamber and every shout and bursts of laughter filled her with dread.
She sat down on the edge of her bed and let out a long breath. Bersi’s bulk filled the doorway of her chamber, and he stood there awkwardly for a moment until she looked up at him. He held her clothing and her knife in his large hands and his eyes were focused on the rafters above her.
“Put the clothing down,” she said sharply. “Are you going to stay in the room?”
“I could stand outside?”
“Do that.”
Bersi nodded, set down her clothes and stepped through the chamber door. He blocked the entrance with his body, and Torunn suddenly felt a strange feeling of safety slip over her.
She rubbed the linen over her hair and tossed it onto the floor. She would need someone to help her braid it and coax it into some kind of style before she could even think about making an appearance at the funeral feast.
Leggings, her second best tunic, and a clean cloak had been laid out on the bed, and Torunn rubbed herself dry before pulling them on. She sighed heavily as she fastened a belt around her hips and buckled her knife in place. Carrying weapons at a funeral was frowned upon, but she wasn’t going anywhere without it.
“What are you doing here?” a female voice demanded. Torunn’s head snapped around. She could see someone standing in front of Bersi. The woman’s hands were on her hips, but she couldn’t see her face. None of the servants in her father’s house would have dared to speak in such a way. It had to be the strange woman her brother had brought with him to Skaro. Torunn didn’t even know her name, but she hated her.
“I am waiting for my mistress,” Bersi replied stiffly.
“Your mistress?” The woman’s voice was incredulous.
Bersi did not reply.
“I am sent to bring her to the Jarl,” the woman said.
“She will come when she is ready. Will you send someone to help with her hair?”
Torunn pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing aloud as the other woman let out a furious sound but Bersi didn’t move, and after a moment of silence, she heard the stranger stomp away and shout for one of the other girls who worked in the house.
She smiled briefly and threw her wet hair over her shoulder.
Perhaps having the rebel around would be a good thing.
As she walked through the streets of Skaro, Torunn tried to focus on keeping herself detached from what was happening. Great fires burned and the smell of roasting meat made her stomach rumble anew. She would have to eat something, and she had every intention of getting very drunk… but she would have to do it far away from her brothers to avoid saying something they would make sure she would regret.
The girl who had braided her hair had applied a mixture of ash and grease to her face and rubbed the same red paint into her hairstyle to accentuate the intricacy of the braids and mark her out as someone important. She didn’t need paint to make that point, but the girl assured her that the gods would be watching, and with everything that had happened in Skaro since her father’s departure from their shores she didn’t want to take any chances with their favor.
Bersi followed close behind her. She had tried to command him to stay at the house, but he would not listen. He did not argue, he would only shake his head and cross his arms over his wide chest instead of answering.