The Girl the Sea Gave Back(73)

He lifted an eyebrow. “Who?”

“A Svell man. He was … my friend. I think.”

A question passed over his face like a shadow, but he didn’t ask it. “Alright.” His gaze went back to the door.

I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to know what the Kyrr planned to do. He wanted to know if the Nādhir were done fighting yet. “I don’t know,” I answered his unspoken question honestly.

I pulled in a deep breath, steadying myself as I looked up at him. The mud from the forest had been wiped from his face, but it still crept up and out of his tunic, reaching around his throat like fingers. In the firelight, I could see the pulse moving beneath his skin.

“You were right,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “We’re not dead.”

The pull of the same smile awoke on my lips and I felt the heat come up into my cheeks. “No, we’re not.”

“I was going to thank you.” His voice dropped low.

“For what?” I asked, confused. I’d only brought darkness to him. I’d only cursed him since the day I first saw his face in the glade.

“For coming here. And for what you did in the forest.”

He took a step toward me and my heart kicked in my chest, the blood running faster through my veins. I traced the shape of his eyes and the curve of his jaw with my gaze. I tried to carve into my mind a memory I’d never forget.

He came closer and I pulled the smell of him into my lungs and memorized that, too. He leaned down, hiding me in his shadow as he pressed his lips softly to the corner of my mouth. His hand wound around my waist and for a moment, I melted into him, the warmth of him flooding inside me and filling me up. And when he pulled away, the blazing fire of his touch still burned on my skin.

“You’re welcome,” I whispered.

He smiled, his eyes dropping to the floor, and the rough, rigid parts of him fell away, revealing a crooked smile on his lips. He turned without looking at me again and stopped before the door, his hand on the latch. And just as I thought he would speak, he pushed it open, disappearing into the light.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


HALVARD


One hundred and twelve warriors lay on five pyres as the sun sank down the sky, disappearing behind the violet sea’s horizon. The Nādhir gathered on the rocks before them were waiting, a deafening silence engulfing the village.

Iri and Myra stood beside the docks, the water at their backs. I hadn’t been here to see the village burn ten years ago, but they had. The same look that had been on their faces after that battle as there again now—the ashen weariness of bloodshed and the dreaded unknown of what was coming.

Our people had fought for the fjord and the mountain and they’d won. But it seemed we would never be free of enemies. My eyes went to the glow of the ritual house, where the Kyrr were gathered with their leaders. Behind us, their boats filled the shallows.

They’d wait until the fires were finished burning before they cast their stones to decide what to do with us. But before then, we had souls to send to the afterlife and for the first time, I would lead the funeral rites for the Nādhir.

Asmund joined me as I walked the path to the beach and I looked up to the hill that had been littered with bodies only hours before. The doors of the ritual house were open as we passed, and my gaze searched for Tova among the Kyrr, but there were only faces and voices I didn’t know.

I hadn’t meant to kiss her. I hadn’t meant to even touch her. But the pull that had found me in the glade before all of this began was only growing stronger. I could feel her the way I could see her in the forest. Like breath on my skin. And when I watched her standing before the flames in the midst of battle, I’d known she was right. Deep inside me. There was some fate that bound us. Some future that lay waiting.

The Nādhir were gathered on the beach below, drinking our winter stores of ale as they waited. The calm, clear night was a gift from Sigr, the god of the fjord. The storm that had blown in from the sea was gone, but another was already gathering in the distant, darkening clouds.

Iri handed me the torch as I reached him and he tipped his chin up at me as I took it. Fiske had stayed with my mother as she worked over the intricate stitching on Eelyn’s wound, but Myra was beside him, and that was all the family I needed. She gave me a reassuring smile before I turned to face our people.

I looked out over my clansmen, all standing still in the quiet. There was nothing to say. No way to truly honor them with words. I didn’t have Espen’s gift to speak or Aghi’s wisdom and I wouldn’t pretend to. There was only the grief that followed death and the hollow place it left. There was only fate’s hand and everything we would never understand about it.

The water crept up over the rocks as the tide rose behind us, the wind turning colder with the stars brightening overhead. I lowered the torch until it touched the corner of the first pyre and the flame caught, traveling over the oil-soaked bodies until it was swallowed in fire.

The Nādhir ritual words began, carried on rough, tired voices as I lit the others.

My hand stilled as the faint feeling of a gaze landed on me. I felt her again, in the shadows. Tova was almost invisible where she stood before the last pyre, her black dress hiding her in the dark. Only the moonlight on her pale skin made her marks visible.

I hadn’t told anyone about the Svell man that I’d put onto the pyre at Tova’s request. After the Svell prisoners were cut free and they disappeared into the forest, I’d followed her back into the trees in the setting sun. The jagged scar carved into the earth where she’d lit the pitch on fire was like an enormous, slithering snake. We found the man she was looking for beside Vigdis, and she took the bracelet from his wrist before I carried him through the village as dark fell.