Page 91 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

Cirri had pressed her hands to her cheeks as though trying to tamp down the blush. She glared up at me, but her sparkling eyes gave her away before she started to silently laugh. Thorn shook his head in disgust.

“According to the footnotes, that was written by a sixteen-year-old thrall in Nordrin, five hundred-odd years ago,” I informed her. “Hence the single-minded focus.”

She was still laughing, her face pink.

“Although I find I can easily picture you in it—roses in her lips and fire in her hair.” I reached out to twine a scarlet curl around my finger. “Maybe I shouldn’t discount the yearning, desperate poetry of a teenage boy.”

You never wrote poems about lusty Valkyries?she asked in her journal, covering her mouth to hide her grin.

“When I was a boy, I thought poetry was a waste of time better spent fighting.” I looked at the Nord poetry book. “Clearly I was missing out. But keep in mind—I hadn’t met you yet, so how could I possibly have been inspired to write a poetic ode?”

Her shoulders quivered with a disbelieving laugh.

“To be fair, I understand his view… I would have stolen you from the gods, as well.”

Don’t be ridiculous, she wrote, shaking her head.

“You don’t believe me?” I released the curl of her hair, touching her cheek. “I would walk right into Valholl, burn it to the ground, and bring you back. He might not have been the most original poet—” I patted the book. “But he had that right, at least.”

Oh? Could you do better?she asked, raising her brows.I have yet to see any poetry from you, Lord Bane.

I scoffed, the sound emerging as more of a growl. “Of course I could. I simply haven’t tried it yet.”

She was still blushing as she wrote,The poem may have been a little—well, a lot awful, but he was just a boy. I hope he went home to her.

I didn’t tell her that the poem had likely been taken from his corpse, if it was in this book. If he’d found his Valkyrie again, it had certainly been in Valholl—the book’s foreword had beenclear that these were collected from the battlefields, the words that the thralls and jarls kept close to their hearts in their last days.

“I’m sure he did.” I looked over the spread before her. “It’s time for you to put this away and eat, Cirri. You’ve been at it for hours.”

She shrugged one shoulder, tossing her braid back. AndI could go for hours longer.

“I’m sure that’s what he said to the Valkyrie,” I murmured with a leer, and her face flamed red again. Ancestors, I loved the sight of that blush, even if it made my throat burn with remembered sweetness.

Bane!

I chuckled as Cirri and Rose began tidying, marking the pages she’d been working on, shuffling papers into order. The servants arrived right on time, silently depositing Cirri’s dinner at our usual table.

But she said nothing as she ate rapidly, her journal closed beside her. I tilted my head, watching her, curious as to what the rush was.

Come, she signed, pushing her plate away.You two—please leave us for the night. Thank you for your help.

The golems slumped a little around the shoulders, and Thorn gave me a slightly distrustful ‘look’, but they obeyed their mistress.

Ha. She hadn’t spoken to me, but I had fully understood her.

Cirri practically tossed her journal in her bag and took my hand, leading me home to our tower. She locked the door behind us, immediately plopped herself onto the bed, took out her journal, and began writing.

“Cirri.”

My wife looked up at me, her gaze curious.

You need that… not, I signed carefully. It was becoming easier to read hands, less so to form the words myself. My hands were not designed for limber movements.

Her eyes went blank for a moment.

How?she asked, one hand moving tentatively.When—?

Cirri sat up straight, suddenly indignant.Is this what you’ve been doing all this time? Who is teaching you?

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