Page 20 of The Warrior and the Monk

But he couldn’t stay in this state of endless self-pity. Sleep would be a fleeting escape. He knew it. As much as he wanted to remain cocooned in this false peace, he knew he couldn’t sleep forever. Eventually, Frode would come and rouse him, as he did now with a soft shake of his shoulder. “Anders is here with a friend of his,” Frode said gently, his voice kind. “Are you feeling well enough to talk to them?”

Wilder’s chest tightened, nerves coursing through him. He didn’t feel well enough. Not at all. But there was no choice. He had to face it. He had to confront it, even if it broke him.

“No,” he whispered, his teeth chattering from the tremor of fear that ran through him. “But I have to.”

Frode guided him to another room, one filled with the rich scent of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars and bottles—some medicinal, some containing ink for writing, others still, with odd assortments of foreign ingredients. It was a place of calm purpose, yet it was filled with the weight of anticipation, the quiet before a storm.

At the center of the room, sitting at a sturdy wooden table, were Anders and a woman Wilder recognized. It was the same warrior from the beach—the one who had told him how to refer to Anders asmy husbandin the language Wilder had barely begun to understand. When her eyes landed on him, her expression was unreadable, but it wasn’t cold. It was simply neutral, as if she were watching a delicate moment unfold, waiting for it to reach its inevitable conclusion.

Anders’s face lit up the moment he saw Wilder. It was a look Wilder had seen before, but it felt different now—fainter, as if a mask were being worn beneath it. The shy, tentative smile that had once been so reassuring now felt like a fragile thing, one that Wilder wasn’t sure how to respond to. But he did, offering a smile in return, though it felt like it was made of cracked glass, fragile and untrue. The guilt in his stomach swelled as he did, the heaviness pressing harder with each passing second.

The woman greeted Frode, speaking with the ease of someone who had known him for some time. She gestured toward herself and Anders, speaking in a low, serious tone. Frode nodded as he listened, then turned to Wilder. “You’ve met Disa before,” he said kindly. “Anders has asked her to speak for him in this, just as I am for you, to ensure that there are no further misunderstandings.”

Wilder nodded, taking a seat at the table, his hands folding nervously in his lap. He could feel the tension in his body, the tightness of his chest as his mind raced. The four of them sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air, suffocating and still. Finally, it was Anders who broke the quiet. He nudged Disa gently, giving her a meaningful look.

With a deep breath, Disa straightened herself and began to speak, her words flowing fluidly to Frode, who dutifully translated for Wilder. “Anders is so glad to see that you’re well,” Frode began, his voice steady. “He was beside himself with worry. He wants you to know that your garden has been cared for, as have all your animals, and that Avery misses you. She’s very anxious for your return—but not as much as Anders. He sincerely apologizes for upsetting you by acting as he did, and he wants you to know that it will not happen again.”

Your garden. Your animals.The words felt like a slow twist of the knife in Wilder’s chest. A part of him wanted to lashout, to say something—anything—but the tears that had been gathering at the corners of his eyes finally broke free. He wiped at them quickly, ashamed of his own weakness. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

But Anders, in his quiet desperation, couldn’t bear to hear that. He made a noise of alarm, leaning forward, his hand reaching out to Disa. His voice, when it came, was rough and hoarse, as if speaking had become too much. He whispered, but it was clear enough to Wilder that he was pleading. “Please, don’t cry. You need not apologize for anything.”

Wilder’s chest tightened further, and he sniffled, his breath shaky. “It was a misunderstanding. It was all a misunderstanding.” He tugged at Frode’s sleeve, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t want to hurt him.”

Frode placed a comforting hand over Wilder’s. “Wilder, this is a difficult conversation. It won’t be easy. No matter how soft we try to make it, he will be hurt. But he must know.”

Wilder swallowed thickly. His heart ached as he finally met Anders’s gaze, the man’s deep brown eyes filled with something between hope and anguish. “Then—” Wilder forced the words out, his voice barely audible, “Ask him if he knows what a monastery is.”

It was a gamble, he knew that. But in that moment, he needed to see how much Anders understood of his world, his past. He needed to see where the true misunderstanding lay.

Frode asked, and both Disa and Anders furrowed their brows in confusion. Neither of them had any idea what a monastery was, Wilder saw, before Frode translated the explanation: “It’s a place where monks live. Men who dedicate themselves to God. They take vows to God. They live a life of prayer, asceticism, and celibacy at a monastery.”

Disa’s eyes widened in understanding. “Celibacy?” she asked, her voice laced with a mixture of surprise and comprehension. She turned to Wilder. “You were—that is, you were a monk?”

“I was a novice,” Wilder replied quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of all he had left behind. “But I would’ve taken my vows in a year or so, yes.”

Disa’s eyes softened, and she quickly relayed the information to Anders. The room was heavy with silence as Wilder waited for the man who had so gently tried to care for him, the man he had misunderstood and feared.

Anders’s reaction was palpable. He visibly paled as the words sank in. His voice, when it came, was hesitant, faltering, as though the weight of the truth was more than he could bear. “He says that he made an offer for your hand in marriage, to you and a member of your clan. He saw you on the beach and wanted you, so he gave your clan member his sword for you—that is how it’s done here. He’s no longer a warrior. He made you a home.”

Wilder’s heart hammered in his chest.A home. Marriage.

His throat tightened, his words catching in the air. “I thought—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know. That’s not how we do things where I’m from. And like I said, I was at a monastery.”

Frode turned to him gently. “Wilder, what did you think had happened?” he asked softly.

Staring hard at the ground, Wilder whispered, “We thought they were raiders. We’d had raiders before. So when we saw the ships… The monk I was with and I both thought that Anders—that he wanted something. Ellion wanted to protect the relics, and I wanted to protect the others, so I agreed to go with him.”

“And when you went with Anders,” Frode asked, his voice gentle but probing, “what did you think your role in his household would be?”

“A servant,” Wilder whispered. His voice was barely audible. “A captive. Taken during a raid, to do with as he wished.”

Disa translated that, and Anders’s face collapsed. The room felt like it had been plunged into darkness. The sound of Anders’s voice, hoarse and broken, pierced the silence. “No.” He shook his head, his words desperate. “No, Wilder. No.”

He repeated it over and over, the pain in his voice thick with unshed tears. He made a motion as if to touch him, to comfort him, but Wilder, overwhelmed by the shock of it all—the realization that he had misunderstood, that Anders had been trying to protect him and care for him—pulled his arm back.

For a moment, everything stopped. Anders’s face crumpled, the tears he’d been fighting spilling free as he stood abruptly, his fist slamming into the table with enough force to rattle the shelves. The sound reverberated in the stillness of the room.

“Anders,” Disa called, her voice urgent as she reached for him. But he shrugged her off, his face set with a strange, broken determination. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving only silence behind him.

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