Sky in the Deep(21)

“Do you know how?” Halvard asked, looking up at me from where he sat on the ground.

Inge laughed. “She has hair, doesn’t she?”

“I used to do my brother’s,” I answered. The breath caught in my chest.

Inge and Halvard both looked at me. Iri stilled, sitting up straighter.

“What happened to him?” Halvard’s voice turned wary.

“Halvard,” Inge scolded him, her brow furrowing.

I pulled the hair into three measured sections. “He’s dead,” I said flatly.

Halvard went quiet.

I braided the thick, waving strands back away from his face, taking the pleats all the way to the end of his hair and then tying them. I used to braid Iri’s hair all the time just like this and then he would do mine. Remembering it was like swallowing a stone.

Iri sitting before our fire, laughing.

Iri lying in the snow, bleeding.

I blinked. Fiske sat in front of him, leaning forward on his elbows and looking at me, like he could see the memories cast behind my eyes.

I looked away, brushing off Iri’s shoulders, and brought the braids to lie down his back. He stood, taking the Riki armor vest from the table and fitting it over the fine tunic. He didn’t look at me as I reached up to buckle the sides, his eyes strained behind the strength painted on his face.

I tightened the straps around his thick torso, remembering. I did the same thing before battle five years ago, in the darkness of our father’s tent. Hours later, Iri was gone.

Once he was dressed, he picked up a round, flat black stone from the table and rubbed his thumb over its surface where worn letters were carved. He looked at it for a moment before tucking it into his vest.

“You did a good job on these.” Inge worked at Fiske’s armor. “They’re cleaner than they’ve been in years.”

Hearing her say it made me wish I hadn’t done it.

When they were dressed, Inge looked them over carefully, turning them each around and inspecting them.

Halvard still watched from the floor, his face sleepy. “When do I get to go fight?”

“Never.” Iri half-smiled.

In five years, he’d be old enough. But the young ones only finished off the fallen on the battlefield. It would be ten years before he was allowed on the front line.

Inge held out a folded length of cloth to me, tied with a strand of twine. “Here.”

I didn’t take it.

Her face twisted, confused. “It’s a dress.”

“For what?” I looked down at it.

“For Adalgildi.” Halvard stood, unfolding the length of it to show me. It was a plain black wool dress with long sleeves and a long, full skirt. Little white bone buttons ran up the front torso in a simple, neat line.

I swallowed, shaking my head. “No.”

“Well, you can’t wear that.” Inge’s eyes dropped down to my tunic, armor vest, and pants. The same clothes I went to battle in.

“I’m not going.”

The edge came into her voice. “I didn’t ask.”

I looked at Iri but he was looking at Fiske.

My stomach dropped, my mouth going dry. I couldn’t go to a Riki ceremony. Especially one honoring their warriors. Sigr wouldn’t like it.

“She’ll offend her god.” Iri spoke my thoughts aloud.

“All the dyrs go. You’ll have to serve. And you can’t go into the ritual house like that.”

I stepped back. “No.”

“Aska.” Fiske’s booming reproach cut into the room, his eyes fixed on me, and I flinched.

The others, too, were staring. Halvard’s mouth hung open. The blood drained from my face.

Fiske had his hands resting on his belt, his chest pulling beneath his fitted tunic. “You’re going to the ceremony. You’ll serve. You’ll wear the dress.”

I gritted my teeth, hearing the seething of my soul inside my head. Because I didn’t care if a collar hung around my neck. I wasn’t their dyr.

“And if I don’t?” I stared back at him, my nostrils flaring.

The cold, hard set of his eyes bore down on me with his answer: I’d be punished. By him. And if I wasn’t punished for deliberately disobeying, Inge would know something wasn’t right. All of the Riki would.

Behind him, Iri was looking at me, his eyes tight. Begging me to obey.

I twisted the dress in my sweaty hands and swallowed hard before I turned for the loft.

Inge watched me climb. “I told you,” she whispered. “She’s got fire in her blood, Fiske.”

I pulled my clothes off, throwing them onto my cot, and stepped into the dress. I hadn’t worn one since before the fighting season, when our clan sent off the warriors to battle. I clasped the buttons and tied the waist, cinching the fabric around my body. The neck was wide and open, letting the collar sit completely visible.

I looked down at it with a sneer. At least it was warm.

When I climbed back down the ladder with the length of the skirt gathered in my arms, Iri and Fiske were gone and Runa was rolling the cedar garlands into circles and piling them on top of each other. She smiled at me softly.

“Runa, do something with her hair,” Inge said, pushing past me to the loft.

Runa dropped the garlands and came to the table, waiting for me. I glared at her before I sat. When she touched me, the tension shot through my whole body. I closed my eyes, feeling her hands in my hair, pulling at it with hooked fingers to unravel the old, tangled braids. She brushed it out, taking the ends in her hands and pulling the comb through as I stared into the fire.