Page 37 of A Curse Carved in Bone
“It is fine,” Saga replied. “Clean and dress it, and then I think you can do the cooking.”
“I’ll do it,” I mumbled.
Bjorn huffed out a breath. “Are you that afraid of my cooking, Born-in-Fire?”
I shook my head, then crossed the room and took the rabbit from his hand. “Are Skoll and Hati outside?”
“Yes.” He caught my wrist, and I looked up at him as he said, “Are you all right?”
I forced a smile on my face. “I’m fine.”
A lie. Because I’d believed that hearing Saga’s truth would make me feel better. Stronger. Ready to do what needed to be done.
Instead, all I felt was worse.
I said little as I cooked, feeling Bjorn’s scrutiny as I worked even as he made conversation with his mother, who filled every heartbeat with chatter.
When I handed him a bowl, he asked, “Should I prepare myself?”
I shook my head, because the thought of tampering with his food hadn’t even occurred to me. All of my thoughts were too twisted up with what step I should take next.
“Do either of you intend to tell me what you discussed?” he asked, then took a mouthful and swallowed. “Or am I to be kept in the dark?”
Saga didn’t answer. Staring at the contents of my bowl, I said, “Your mother does not know if there is a way forward for me that will not end in many deaths. She has seen nothing that offers a solution.” Putting my bowl aside, I forced myself to meet Bjorn’s eyes. “She also told me how you came to be in Skaland. Of Snorri’s actions. I understand now why you have turned against him.”
Bjorn only stared at his stew as he chewed and then swallowed. Pushing his bowl away, he asked, “What do you wish to do,Born-in-Fire? Because my mother’s inability to see a better path does not mean one does not exist. You just need to choose what direction you wish to go.”
To run seemed the right choice. But could one outrun fate?
I didn’t know, so I didn’t answer, only finished the meal in silence.
“Bjorn will clean up,” Saga announced. “Freya, come. Let us rediscover your cheer.”
Pushing cups into my hand, she tucked a small cask under her arm and led me outside, where it had started snowing.
“It comes early up here,” she remarked. “And stays for longer. Though this will melt before midday tomorrow, I should think.”
One of the outbuildings was a sauna not dissimilar from the style we used in Skaland. Constructed with rough-hewn logs and a turf roof, it blended into the forest almost as though it had grown out of the earth. Saga entered to stoke the fire while I retrieved a bucket of water from the well, both wolves tracking me everywhere I went.
“The heat will help you think clearly.” Saga removed her garments and hung them on a hook outside the door. I did the same. It was hard not to look at her, for it seemed time had no more touched her body than her face, every inch of her taut and smooth. On the right side of her rib cage was Odin’s mark, a large crimson tattoo of a raven that throbbed to the beat of her heart. Just as did the tattoos that graced my hands. Tattoos given to me by Hlin. And by Hel.
Saga was so incredibly beautiful that it was easy to understand the actions of Snorri and Harald. Their desire to possess her. Yet here she was, free and living alone in the wilds with no one troubling her, which clearly suited her just fine.
I envied her.
Filling my cup and her own, Saga sat on a stool and leaned back against the wooden walls, steam rising as I poured water on the heated stones. “You feel hopeless, don’t you, Freya?”
I took a mouthful of the wine, then paused to look into the cup, for it had a finer taste than anything I’d had before.
“Harald keeps me well supplied.” Saga smiled. “Southern vintage made from grapes that grow in places winter never touches. It is my one vice.”
“I would like this to be my one vice.” I took another sip. “Though I expect it takes a king’s coffers to afford such a thing.”
Saga only took a small sip, watching me over the rim of her cup.
Sighing, I said, “Harald gave me little choice as to whether I would come to Nordeland or not.”
“I think you should be grateful it was my husband who captured you, not me, because I’d have instructed Skade to do what my son could not. But please, continue to complain about the choices made.”
