“Did Thidrick return with you?”
Varin nodded. “We were told to keep to our business. Raiding. Plunder. While your father struggled for life. Asgaut and Hallvard—they took control immediately and no one was allowed to speak to your father, or to Thidrick. I tried to speak to him, but it was not possible. He did not wake.”
Torunn blinked hard to keep the tears away. Bersi reached for her arm, but she pulled it away before he could touch her. She did not need his pity. She did not need his comfort. She wiped her cheeks and focused on Varin.
“I must speak to Thidrick. I must know what happened. My father has taken arrows before—”
“The wound putrefied,” Varin murmured. “We could all smell it. Some believed it was the curse of the gods, his blasphemy against Odin being drained away... But—”
“But you do not believe it,” Torunn whispered.
Varin shook his head. “I do not. On my vows to Tyr, I do not believe it.”
“What will you do?” Bersi’s voice was gentle and Torunn stared down at her boots.
“I must find out what happened,” she said firmly. “I must speak to Thidrick—before Asgaut and Hallvard… They will suspect me immediately. I am already being watched. As are both of you. This was dangerous, and we will all suffer for it if they discover us together.”
The sudden thought that her brothers had been involved in their father’s death hit her hard in the chest like the arrow that had taken his life.
“Torunn,” Bersi started.
“Go,” she whispered. “Go. I cannot look at you. You must not be seen together.”
Varin nodded. “I loved your father,” he said. It was the only thing that could be said, and it needed no reply or justification.
He rose from his knees and vaulted over the side of the ship. She heard him grunt as he landed on the rocks and then the crunch of his boots over the stones as he strode away from the ship.
“What will you do?” Bersi asked.
“You knew. How long have you known?”
Bersi shook his head. “I wanted to tell you, but you needed to hear it from him.”
“I heard you talking,” she snapped. “You wanted to protect me from this.”
“He wants you to lead a rebellion against your own brothers,” Bersi hissed. There was desperation in his dark eyes, and something else she could not quite place. “I will not put you in danger.”
Her lip curled in anger. “You are not in charge here. And what do you care? If I am dead, you are free to do… whatever it is that you want to do, rebel.”
He flinched at her words, but she did not care if she had hurt him. She was too wrapped up in misery and anger to care. He was her prisoner. Her slave. His feelings did not matter.
“I—”
“Go,” she whispered.
“Torunn…”
She pulled her knife from its sheath and leveled it at him. “I said. Go.”
Bersi’s eyes darkened at the sight of the blade but he said nothing more. He pulled himself to his feet and slid over the ship’s rail. She leaned back against the bulwark, drew her knees up to her chest, and closed her eyes.
It was too much. All of it was too much. But if it were true—
A cold wind brushed across her hot cheeks and she opened her eyes. Above her, the gray clouds she had watched on the horizon had rolled overhead. Small white flakes floated through the air and landed on the edge of the knife she had balanced on her knees. The knife her father had given her.
Tears stung her eyes and her heart was twisted in her chest.
She had never felt more alone, or confused, or determined to discover the truth.
But her time was running short.
When the ice melted, Jarl Sigurd and his men would flood the village—and her life would change once more. But this time, she would be ready.
* * *
To Be Continued in Sword of Vengeance - Book 2 in Warrior’s Claim
SWORD OF VENGEANCE: WARRIOR’S CLAIM ~ BOOK 2
Chapter 1 ~ BERSI
Bersi Athulfsson lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. It was late and his day had been filled with tasks that had kept him away from his mistress’ side, but that was how she had wanted it.
Torunn’s refusal to accept her brother’s plans for her future was not unexpected, but Bersi had underestimated how stubborn she could be. He could not have known how she would react to Varin’s confession, but he had accepted it. He didn’t really have a choice in the matter.
Slaves didn’t get to choose.
His shoulders ached from hours of chopping wood and hauling water, and the cold weather had made his wounded leg painful. The old healer had warned him that the wound he had taken would give him a limp, but he had not warned that the winter months would turn him into an old man.
Bersi listened to Torunn’s steady breathing and wished that he could sleep, but his mind would not stop turning. It had been months since Varin had confronted her with the truth about her father’s death, and his suspicions about her brothers’ involvement in it. He could feel her betrayal, he could see it in her eyes. She drank more than usual, and her words were often short and sharp, but she had not sent him away, which must have meant something—though he could not decide what it meant.
“Why do you do it?”
Torunn’s voice was hushed, but it startled him. He had thought she was asleep.
“Do what?”
“Why do you follow me everywhere? I give you tasks to keep you away from me, and somehow you are always there.”
“Someone has to have a care for your safety,” he said without hesitation.
She snorted. “I tried to kill you.”
“Several times,” he agreed. “That does not mean I wish to see you hurt.”
“I am the daughter of a Jarl, sister to the current one… who would wish to see me hurt?”
The question sounded bitter. An attempt had been made on her life, and Solva would have succeeded if she had not moved out of the way at the last possible moment. And there was no way to know how much danger she would be in if her brothers found out what she knew.
“That is why I follow you. To make sure that does not happen.”
“You are a slave.”
He sighed heavily. “I was not always a slave.”
“No. You were a rebel.”
He smiled in the dark. “Some things will never change.”
“And what if you were given that chance again?” Her voice sounded closer, and Bersi turned his head in surprise. He could see a faint outline above the edge of the bed, but could not be sure if it was her.
“I would do as I was commanded,” he said softly.
He heard movement as she slid across the bed, and he braced one elbow on the floor to raise himself up, curious as to what was happening, but before he could move, Torunn rolled off the bed and landed on top of him.
He let out a grunt of surprise as she straddled him, pinning him to the ground. She slept naked, and he knew that there was nothing between them but the blanket she had pulled with her and the breeches he still wore.
He lay still, his heart hammering in his chest as she leaned over him. He could smell the warmth of the honeyed mead she drank mixed with something sweeter that he could not place. He closed his eyes and willed his body not to react to her weight on top of him, but the urge to put his hands on her body was almost too powerful to push aside.