Stupid.
It was stupid. Anyone could have walked in and seen them. A servant. Either of her brothers… anyone. Slaves were property, and she could do what she liked with him, but even though she could not admit it, this had been different. He was different.
Torunn lay awake long into the night. She half-hoped, and half-dreaded, the possibility that Bersi would come into her chamber and finish what he had started. But though she heard him moving around the house, he did not come close to her door.
When the sky began to lighten, Torunn was already awake and dressed. The bandages on her ribs had cracked during her fight with Bersi, but it had held together well enough. It would only be a few more days until she could take it off entirely. It would have to do. She did not need a lecture from the healer about her activities and not following his instructions. She had always been terrible at being told what to do, especially when it got in the way of what she wanted.
That made her pause.
What she wanted.
What did she want from Bersi?
Torunn shook her head, buckled her knife to her belt and swept a cloak over her shoulders as she strode to the door and pushed it open.
Bersi stood nearby, dressed and ready to follow her. She glared at him briefly and strode to the entrance to the house. Servants scattered out of her way, and Heldi tried to offer her something to eat, but Torunn dismissed her with a wave. She wanted a drink to chase away the headache that throbbed behind her eyes, but she didn’t want to deal with Heldi’s concerned stares at that hour.
She could hear Hallvard snoring from her father’s chambers, and she gritted her teeth as she walked past the carved doors and stepped out of the house and into the early morning light. Snow had fallen the night before, and the village was blanketed in white. She had always loved winter, but this year it felt deeper. More bitter. As though it would linger for more weeks than in years past.
That would not sit well with Hallvard. She knew that her brother was eager to begin raiding again, and she had a feeling that he would not listen to the priests, or anyone else for that matter, when it came time for the ships to leave.
She could hear Bersi’s boots on the path behind her, and she pulled her cloak more tightly around her as she headed toward the road that would take her up the hill to the healer’s house.
The stones were slippery under the snow, but Torunn did not want Bersi to see her falter. Her steps were as sure as they could be, and she was determined to reach the top without his assistance.
She was surprised that the rebel had nothing to say to her on their journey. She had expected him to confront her with what had happened, or that he would have something to say—an apology, perhaps. But he was silent.
If she wanted conversation, she would have to begin it herself, and she would not give him the satisfaction.
Iarund’s house was unguarded, and Torunn breathed a small sigh of relief to see it. Iarund had always hated having guards outside his house. He always said that he was neutral in the quarrels of man. He held no allegiance to any Jarl or ruler. He simply healed the sick and wounded without a care for what words came out of their mouths, or whom they might have wounded with their swords.
Torunn, however, had always considered him loyal and trustworthy—something not many would agree with. But he had always supported her father, at least, that was how it had appeared to her.
She paused at the door and took a deep breath before knocking.
There was no answer. She stood awkwardly in the snow and listened for the sound of movement behind the door, but there was none.
She knocked again and stepped back.
“How long do you wait?” Bersi asked after a moment.
She glanced back at him, and then frowned at the door. “As long as it takes.”
But she did not want to wait forever. Her questions were important.
She raised her hand to knock again, but Bersi’s hand fell upon her shoulder and he pulled her away from the door.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
Bersi laid a hand over her mouth and Torunn pushed his hand away and stepped back.
“We should not be here,” he said.
His voice was soft and filled with warning, but Torunn was in no mood for games. “I have every right to be here,” she said hotly.
“I am not disputing your right,” Bersi said, “only your timing.”
“It is not too early—”
Bersi placed a hand on her chest to keep her back and she grabbed his wrist. “Stop that!”
But then she heard it. Voices.
An argument.
Her anger faded as quickly as it had come on and Torunn released her hold on Bersi’s wrist. She could not place the voices or hear what was being said, but the tone was unmistakable.
“We need to leave,” Bersi said softly.
Torunn nodded.
There was no argument to be had here.
She crept away from the door as quickly as she could with Bersi following behind. He kept his eyes on the door, but as Torunn was about to start down the path, he grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a snow-covered pine tree.
“What—” Bersi covered her mouth with his hand and pressed her back against the trunk of the tree. His gaze was locked on the healer’s house and Torunn struggled to break free of his grip.
“Stop,” he muttered.
The creak of the healer’s door echoed through the silence of the trees and Torunn froze in place.
“Show yourself,” a voice called out.
Torunn’s eyes flicked to Bersi, but he was staring back at the house through the branches. She wanted desperately to know who it was, but he said nothing. She grabbed for the hand that covered her mouth and tried to pry it away, but he did not move. Stubborn ox. She moved to reach for her knife, but Bersi shook his head slowly and she glared up at him.
It was clear that she would not be able to threaten her way out of this situation.
She closed her eyes and listened.
“I will not ask you again,” the voice shouted. “Come out now, we know you are there!”
Boots crunched in the snow and desperation rose in Torunn’s throat. She clawed at Bersi’s hand and he nodded briefly before releasing his hold on her, but he kept his hand over her mouth. “Stay. Quiet,” he warned. “Move quickly. But do not take the path. Follow me.”
She nodded and he took his hand away. She lifted her hand to push him back, but he had already turned and strode away from her toward the path. “I thought we were not taking the path,” she gasped. Even with a limp he was moving more quickly than she had expected.
“You will not take the path,” he said.
“What?”
She could hear voices behind them, and her heart pounded in her chest. As they came to the steepest part of the path, Bersi turned suddenly and grabbed Torunn around the waist.
“What are you—” But before she could protest, he lifted her off her feet and threw her into the snow. She landed awkwardly beside a tree a few feet from the path and came up out of the snowbank spluttering and enraged. But the look on Bersi’s face made her stop instantly. He motioned for her to get down and Torunn threw herself into the tree well. She pulled her dark cloak around herself and hunkered down beside the tree trunk. She could only just see the top of the men’s heads as they came down the path.
“Stop! You there! What business do you have with the healer?”