Page 71 of Heart of the Wolf
“Don’t touch her,” Brielle croaked, her voice hoarse like she had swallowed shards of stone.
The girl squeaked in surprise, jumping back as if she had been burned. Frantic blue eyes landed on Brielle, almost pleading with her, begging for help.
As if Brielle could help anyone, given her current state. Upon closer inspection, various bruises marred the girl’s face. All of them in different states of healing. The girl had a nasty, fresh bruise under her left eye, likely inflicted within the last day.
Perhaps she could help the terrified girl; she looked English.
“Those must hurt. I’m a healer. I could tend to them if you untie me.”
Scared eyes darted around like a cornered deer in the forest, searching for the source of its death.
“She will kill me,” the young girl whispered, almost afraid that if she spoke too loud, it would breathe life into the words.
A woman.
Brielle tucked that piece of information away, not sure how helpful it might be. Right now, their only hope was for Brielle to make the shaky girl trust her.
“What is your name?” Brielle asked.
“Which one do you wish to know?”
Silently, Brielle tilted her head. Her brows knitted in as her lips narrowed.
“Do you wish to know my true name or the name I was given when I came here?”
Any life that remained in the girl’s words vanished as she finished that sentence. Something gnarled in her chest, festering like a weed until it was painful. Brielle remembered her father’s stories, stories of heathens ransacking villages and stealing women and children.
Based on the fleeting words of her captor before her world went dark, the visage of a longhouse surrounding her, and the broken girl in front of her. Brielle assumed she was in the village of one of the other clans.
But which one? And how long would it take Leif to find her?
If he found her.
Copper coated her tongue. Her teeth pierced her raw lower lip again, making more blood stain her lips. Nothing would stop Leif and Amund from finding them. She chanted the reassurance over and over again, refusing to believe anything else.
Whoever had taken them wanted Leif to kneel in exchange for her. That meant she was more valuable alive. She was likely safe, for now. The taste of bile mixed with blood in her mouth. Hopefully, Astrid would garner similar protections as the jarl’s wife and Leif’s sister.
“Your true name,” Brielle said sweetly, remembering the trembling girl before them.
“Vala,” she said with a sad smile. “I was stolen from my family two years ago, now.”
Brielle froze. Leif had outlawed thralls when he became Konungr almost a decade ago. Wherever she was and whoever had taken her had ignored Leif’s laws.
“Vala,” Brielle echoed, returning her attention to the frightened girl. “That’s a beautiful name. Let me help you, Vala. Untie me and my friend,” she said in a voice similar to one a mother might use to soothe a child with a skinned knee.
Brielle forced her wild heart to calm, afraid she might pass out from the strain if she didn’t. It was thundering so violently that blood hammered in her ears, reigniting the sharp pain that pierced her temple. Vala watched her, her eyes flickering back and forth over her feet, deep in thought.
The door groaned again, and Brielle cursed Odin under her breath. Whatever progress she had made with the timid girl evaporated. A thin woman flanked by a halo of dark, thick braids strode into the room. A well-crafted leather bodice with metal buckles accentuated her silk dress as the jewelry on her neck glittered.
The richness of the materials alluded to her status.
Her garments weren’t as fine as Brielle’s or Astrid’s, but still finer than most.
“Stupid girl,” the tall woman hissed, backhanding Vala, making tears spill from her eyes. “I told you to tell me when she woke. Get out,” she snapped, making the young girl flee from the room.
The woman sneered a disgusting, crooked smile, cocking her head to one side as she twirled a jeweled dagger.
Despite her appearance, a wildness shone in her features, more apparent the closer she got. She reminded Brielle of apples she’d find on the ground, shiny on the outside but rotten at the core.
