Page 125 of A Curse Carved in Bone
Covering my mouth to keep from laughing, I watched him brush snow from his hair, glaring at the beam of sunlight streaming through the roof.
“I really ought to burn the whole thing down,” he growled, then his green eyes flicked to mine. “Enough laughter, Born-in-Fire. I’ll fix it today.”
“Animals first.” I reached for my dress, no longer trying to curb my laughter. “Else they’ll burst in the door looking for you.”
Bjorn sighed, then availed himself of the water in the wash basin before pushing aside the curtain that hid our bed from the main room. I watched him as I washed, noting how he avoided looking at the weapons chest that sat against one wall, my shield, wrapped in cloth, hanging on the wall aboveit.
Both the weapons chest and shield served as ever-present reminders of our life before. The terror, pain, and suffering that came with them. Danced around but never acknowledged. The life we had given up because it had cost us both too much and we’d feared it would eventually cost us each other.
Outside, I heard the squeal of a child and the admonishments of a woman, and Bjorn said, “Ingrid is here. I must escape before she sees me.”
Taking up the heel of the bread I’d made yesterday, he bent down to kiss me, but before he could escape out the front, the door opened. Ingrid looked him up and down. “Your goats are much abused, Bjorn.”
“The goats understand it is for the greater good of keeping my wife well serviced.”
Ingrid snorted, but Bjorn only ruffled my nephew’s hair as the baby crawled past, then escaped before Ingrid could respond with more words.
My friend rolled her eyes. “It is amazing you two don’t starve to death, for you spend more time abed than any two people I’ve ever met.”
“It is not always the bed.” I picked up my nephew and kissed hisblond hair, my brother’s sweet boy wrapping his arms around my neck as I walked to the window to watch Bjorn.
Ingrid held up her hands. “I do not need the details.” Her eyes flicked to the roof. “You need to fix that.”
I made a soft humming sound of agreement, hugging the baby and watching Bjorn feed the horses. There was a restless energy about him that I could sense from here. Because I felt it, too, even as I absently listened to Ingrid’s chatter about gossip in Selvegr.
“Freya?”
I turned to find Ingrid watching me. “Hmm?”
“Are you well?”
Making a face, I set Erik on the ground, the boy crawling immediately to the weapons chest, which he tried and failed to open. “Of course I’m well.”
“I mean, are you content?”
“Yes.” The word was oddly difficult to say, and I turned away from her scrutiny because I did not care to consider why that was.
Ingrid did not speak, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw her take my shield down from the hook on the wall, then remove its covering. The silver metal was bright as ever, gleaming in the early light. “It is a quiet life you live now,” she remarked. “You are not meant for a quiet life, Freya. Neither is Bjorn.”
“We fought for this life.” My hands fisted. “Fought to live in peace. Of course we are content.”
Ingrid traced a finger around the edge of my shield, watching her son trying to open the chest full of weapons and chain mail and fighting leathers, all carefully packed. “Then why don’t you rid yourself of these things? Sell them for items your home needs.”
“We might have need of them. Violence comes looking for even those who hide from it.” Not wanting to discuss the subject anymore, I asked, “How is Taric?”
The answer was always the same, because Taric was as constant as the sun rising in the east. Born from one of the southern nations, he’dfallen in love with the mountains and fjords of Skaland. A farmer by trade, he had not a violent bone in his body and he’d stepped into the void left by my brother’s death, giving Ingrid and my nephew the certainty they needed. A better man I could not have chosen for them. Geir would have approved.
“He’s well. When I tell him of your roof, he is sure to come and aid Bjorn in the repair.”
My eyes were on my husband, who stood in the yard staring into the distance while the chickens pecked around him.
Are you content?I silently asked him.
AmI?
Bjorn lifted his head, and a heartbeat later, I heard the pounding of galloping hooves. A rider galloped into the yard, skidding to a stop before Bjorn. Curious, I left the house. Ingrid followed after me with Erik in her arms. As I approached, I heard the rider, who was just a boy, call out, “The jarl has called all warriors to arms!”
“What has happened?” I asked.
