Page 30 of Edge of the Wild

They both sat.

Bjorn held his cup before him, but didn’t drink. “You’ve got something heavy on your mind.”

Erik smiled, and took a sip. “You know me too well.”

“Your drake had a knife at my throat this afternoon.”

“Did he?” Erik felt his smile widen, delighted, perhaps even more so by Bjorn’s resulting frown. “Good for him – but that’s not what this is about.” His smile fell away. He set his cup aside on an inlaid table. “This is about our trip to the festival.”

Bjorn’s expression blanked: ready. Waiting.

“You know I want you by my side, always–”

“Erik.”

“But I want you here, with Revna. With Rune, and Tessa.”

Bjorn took a few long swallows. “And not with you.”

“I want to take Birger.”

More swallows. After, Bjorn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “My brother is wise counsel.” Erik waited through the resultant pause. Listened to his old friend’s voice harden. “But we’re anticipating someone raising a blade to you, aren’t we? Counsel won’t save you then.”

“Bjorn.” It hurt, inside; he felt the old tug of wanting his friend, his right hand, to have his back. But he’d thought this through. “You know that you are beloved to me, as a brother.”

Bjorn bristled. “But you would leave me behind.”

“I would have you protect the innocent,” Erik said, sitting forward. “You are my strongest, my greatest warrior – no one can stand up to you.”

Bjorn set his own cup aside, wine sloshing, so that he could lean in, too, their faces inches apart. “Which is why you need me at your side,” he snarled. “No amount of lessons in the world will get your boy ready to defend you.”

Erik knew a moment’s pulse of anger. It subsided. “And I’m not asking him to defend me. Bjorn. I’m asking you to stay and protect my family.”

Bjorn stared at him – then glanced toward the fire, jaw working.

“I know,” Erik said, carefully, “that you love my nephews. My sister.”

Muscles leaped in Bjorn’s throat. Through gritted teeth, he said, “You know they’ll try something. The Beserkirs. Even the Úlfheðnar. Gods know what the other clans think.”

“I know.”

“Birger is the brains, between the two of us. He could help here.”

“And he could help me with negotiations in the Waste,” Erik reasoned. “Don’t think of this as a punishment.”

Bjorn turned to him, gaze dark in the firelight, jaw set. “Then why does it feel like one?”

Erik took a steadying breath. “You know that it isn’t.”

No response.

“You know that there’s no one I would trust more to watch over my sister, and her injured son.”

Bjorn showed his teeth, and glanced away again.

“Bjorn.Brother.” He sat forward, allowing his expression to be open and pleading. He could be stern, he could deliver an order – but sternness would not help Bjorn to understand. “No one in this palace commands the military respect that you do. You’re not just the captain my guard – you’re my general. I would have to take an entire army with me to Dreki Hörgr to keep absolutely safe. But you here…if something happens, if the war should renew while we’re away – there is no one I trust more to hold off a siege. To make the hard decisions.

“I don’t make this decision lightly, and I think it’s the right one. I must take a diplomat to the festival, and leave my right hand in command of my castle.”

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