Maybe she should have taken the chance the gods had offered.
Despite the fear coiling cold and tight in her belly, she knew she couldn’t falter now. She had made her choice - to keep her hands clean of blood, even if only for now.
"I can handle myself," she said, lifting her chin. "You taught me."
His eyes snapped back to hers. "I may have taught you," he said, low and steady, "but you're outnumbered here. They won’t fight fair. And you know it."
Her stomach twisted. Shehadknown. She just hadn’t wanted to face it.
"It’s only a matter of time," he continued. "This ship may offer some semblance of freedom, but it’s also the lion’s den."
She pulled a breath deep into her lungs, willing herself steady.
"Yet here I am," she bit out, "with a berserker. How is being with you any different?"
Something flickered in his eyes - something like hurt.
The same look he’d worn before, in the rare, raw moments when they let the walls between them slip.
"You know I would never hurt you," he said, voice roughened to a whisper.
"Do I?" she asked. "Because I’m not sure what to believe anymore."
His nostrils flared.
"When have I ever failed you? When have I not been there when it mattered?"
She said nothing.
The silence between them grew thick, unbearable.
"I don’t want you here," she said at last, each word scraping her throat raw.
"Don’t worry," he said, each word like a blade. "Once the trials are over, you’ll never have to see me again."
The air fled her lungs.
It should’ve felt like arelief.
It didn’t.
Instead, it carved a hollow in her chest.
"Good," she managed.
"But while we're stuck together - " he started, then stopped.
His words faltered, lost, like morning dew vanishing under the sun. Because she wasn’t looking at him anymore. Wasn’t listening. She was looking past him - frozen, breath locked in her lungs.
Something moved by the prow of the ship.
A tall, weather - worn man.
Arms crossed. Axe slung across his back. Silent. Solid.
Unmistakable.
It couldn’t be.