Page 26 of The Barbarian's Claim
“W-what’s w-wrong?”
“You were gone too long. Did something happen?”
Warmth spread through my chest, and I smiled up at him, shaking my head. “I-I was t-talking to S-S-Simon.”
The tension in his face eased, and his shoulders relaxed. He really did care about my wellbeing. It had been so long since someone had, it still felt strange to me sometimes.
“Did he need something?” he asked as he fell into step beside me. His eyes scanned the way ahead, his gaze dark and suspicious, like always. I’d grown used to that, and I knew it had nothing to do with the clan. He was a careful man, even with his own clan. He was only doing it to keep me safe.
Shaking my head, I dropped my voice so I wouldn’t be overheard. It still made me uncomfortable to speak out loud while we were with the clan, even though there was no one around to overhear me.
“He w-was f-f-f—” I grimaced, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
Einar’s hand settled on my lower back, and he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Don’t force yourself. I know you are trying.”
Relief made my shoulders slump, and I leaned into him a little for comfort. I wondered if I would ever get used to his easy acceptance of me and my condition. Everyone in town I’d been forced to speak with always got frustrated with me and yelled at me to spit it out. Some even raised a hand at me, thinking they could force the words from me. Only Einar calmly accepted my condition and encouraged me to take my time.
Once we arrived at his tent, where we were far enough away from the clan that I felt safe to speak, I tried again. “H-he was f-fetching w-water f-f-for… m-maman?”
That last word wasn’t in the common tongue, and I wasn’t sure if I said it right. Einar nodded, helping me to erect a line so we could hang the laundry.
“He speaks of Feigrind’s mother. She works with the clay to make pots.”
We fell into companionable silence after that, both of us tending to the daily chores. Einar let me start the fire in front of his tent, which took a few tries. I’d need more practice. Then he had me toss the dagger he’d given me at a nearby tree, telling me to aim for a cloth he’d attached to the trunk with a larger knife from his belt. I was terrible at it, and I lost track of the number of times I had to run into the trees to fetch the blade as it bounced off the bark or missed entirely, but Einar was patient with me and only encouraged me to try again.
I really got lucky ending up with him.
Seventeen
EINAR
Matthew had finally managed to hit the tree with enough force for the dagger to catch, so I’d given him a break and taken him hunting with me. When we returned, I set him to work on preparing the fowl while I continued to work on setting up the drying box for the bows. I was talking him through how to cook it properly when Rath came to visit with his bondmate in tow. Finn clutched a book against his chest, his expression a little anxious. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“What is it?”
Rath glanced at his bondmate and a soft smile overtook his face as he tucked the smaller man against his side. “Finn asked if he could meet with Matthew to work on his language. He doesn’t like that one of his students is struggling.”
Finn dropped his gaze, shame overtaking his face. “I should have paid more attention. I didn't realize…”
Unwilling to deal with overemotional clan mates, I waved him toward Matthew. “Discuss it with him.” Switching to thecommon tongue, I spoke to Matthew. “I will take care of the rest. Go sit with Finn and learn.”
I caught the uneasiness in Matthew’s expression, and I knew why he wished to avoid it, but now that he was staying with me, he needed to be able to communicate with the clan. I would not play translator forever.
Finn must have noticed the expression as well because he switched to the common tongue, his tone reassuring. “We’ll take our time. There’s no rush. Everyone learns at a different pace.”
Matthew flicked his gaze to me, unsure of himself. I jerked my chin at him. “Go. We will practice what you learned when you are through.”
That seemed to reassure him enough to head inside our tent for a lesson with Finn. It would be easier for him in there. He didn’t wish people to hear the tremble in his voice. The fewer people who overheard him, the better he would feel.
Rath, in no hurry to leave his bondmate, took a seat on the log Matthew usually sat on. He wasn’t as chatty as some clan mates, like Verus, so I put up with his presence, setting aside the axe I had been using to finish what Matthew had started with our meal.
“Orthorr says you two are bonded?” he queried lightly. There was no judgment in his tone, only curiosity, and when I looked at him, his expression was relaxed. Had he been one of the ones who sided with Orn, he would have put up more of a fuss about it.
“He needed protection,” was my gruff reply.
Rath’s expression darkened. “Yes, I remember the outburst at the bonding ceremony. Has he had any troubles since then?”
“We have been away,” I grumbled.
