Page 28 of A Curse Carved in Bone
Her eyes flicked to me, and at my side, Hati gave a soft growl as she said, “So you don’t love him?”
I loved him so much that the emotion set my body ablaze. But I also hated him in equal measure. “You should not ask strangers these questions. It is not right.”
The woman sighed. “I am sorry. I do not spend much time in conversation.”
Bjorn chose that moment to return with the basket, once again full of mushrooms, and he handed it to the woman. “You shouldn’t be out here alone this late,” he said. “It’s not safe.”
“You are thoughtful.” She gave him a beaming smile that made me want to punch her in the face. “But set aside your fears. I will not be alone when darkness falls.” Then she stepped off the path. “Safe travels.”
Shaking my head at the strange forwardness of the woman, I mounted my horse. Bjorn drew alongside me. “There’s a camp not far from here. We’ll stay the night and head out at dawn.” Nodding at the woman, he dug in his heels and cantered down the road.
I followed, noting that both wolves pressed between me and the woman, Hati biting at my horse’s heels to make him go faster.
Bjorn didn’t stop until the darkness was fully upon us and he had to use his axe to light the way. The camp was a small clearing with a firepit that showed signs of use, although not recently given the thick carpet of grass and wildflowers. There was also a worn rope tied between birch trees to serve for picketing horses, and in the distance, water gurgled. Tension thickened the air as we saw to our mounts, then began the task of setting up camp. Neither of us spoke a word, but I saw everything Bjorn did. Heard every breath he took. It was as though the woman’s strange questions had brought to the forefront of my heart the magnetism between us, for jealousy was a fierce emotion and I had ever been victim toit.
In his typical haphazard manner, Bjorn lit the fire by dumping an armload of wood on top of his axe, while I extracted from the bags the supplies we’d been sent with. He took the pot I handed him and disappeared into the trees without comment, and my lip quivered at the silent rhythm because the comfort of it did more to fill the gulf between us than the groveling Gyda had suggested ever would.
Except I didn’t want that gulf filled. I didn’t want to forgive. Didn’t want to step onto that slippery slope that would only see me hurt again. Or worse, used again.
Bjorn returned and handed me the pot. As he did, our fingers brushed together and the feel of his skin against mine sent a shiver through me. Jerking away, I began filling the pot with ingredients to make a stew.
“You need to take care of your hand, Freya,” Bjorn said softly, watching me work. “Gyda repairing your sword won’t matter if your fingers won’t bend enough to grip it.”
“My hand is fine.” My eyes stung, but I blamed it on the smoke as I put the pot over the fire to cook.
“Freya, you hurting yourself doesn’t change—”
“Fine!” I interrupted him because I didn’t want a lecture on my irrationality. Going to my bag, I retrieved a pot of lanolin that had been included and began rubbing it onto my scarred hand. Not half as goodas my old salve made with Liv’s recipe, and it smelled like sheep, but it eased the tightness of the skin. And forestalled the need for Bjorn to tend to my scars, as he so often had. I could not bear his touch. But above all, I could not riskit.
Bjorn said nothing, only silently watched the flames while I returned to stirring the stew. A sliver of moon rose slowly in the sky and Hati tipped back his head and howled mournfully.
“Is it really them?” I asked, needing to break the silence. “In his endless collection of the divine, has Harald found Fenrir’s children?”
“No,” Bjorn answered. “Just orphaned wolf pups that he adopted. He has a fondness for rescuing damaged or unwanted things.”
“Like you, apparently.” I tasted my stew and deemed it ready. “Guthrum told me.”
“Like me.” Bjorn hesitated. “Guthrum doesn’t know the full truth. Do you wish to hear it?”
Yes.
“I’ll hear it from your mother,” I muttered. “Odin’s children don’t lie, so I’ll know her words are the truth. I can’t say the same for you.”
“I have no reason to lie to you now.”
“But you had reason to lie to me before?”
He exhaled slowly. “I wish it were otherwise, but yes. My reasons for lying to you were honorable. But my reasons for making you mine while telling you lies had not a measure of honor to them. I wanted you from the first moment I set eyes on you, Born-in-Fire, so I took you. Now I pay the price for my greed because I have lost the woman I love more than life itself.”
My teeth clenched so hard that I swore they would crack, but it was better than allowing the words rising in my throat to fill the air. Though my stew was cooked through, I stirred it again. Stirring and stirring until I was finally able to swallow my maelstrom of emotions.
I ladled our dinner into two bowls, then tasted a mouthful. It was quite good, but I reached for the salt bag and added a handful to one bowl. Stirring the contents, I handed it to Bjorn. “Enjoy.”
Looking me straight in the eye, he took a large mouthful, then smiled. “Delicious. Thank you, Freya.”
Arsehole.
He ate the entire bowl, then seconds, to which he added another handful of salt of his own accord, eating with gusto.
