Warrior of the Wild(39)

Huh. That, I didn’t expect.

Maybe I would feel some sympathy if I had any faith in real relationships, but I’m certain they don’t exist.

I say, “You’re assuming I like boys.”

This finally brings his eyes back to mine. “Do you?”

I don’t know the answer to that. In one way, it’s simple: I am attracted to men. That is what Soren is asking. But right now, with my broken heart and trust, I don’t see how I could like another boy ever again.

So I say, “I did.”

After a beat of silence, I add, “It’s a ridiculous notion.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him. We wouldn’t get together because we’re the only options for each other. We’d get together because you’re a wickedly talented warrior woman who doesn’t let anyone get close to her, and I love a challenge.”

He laughs at the look I give him. “I’m kidding! Sort of. Okay, mostly not, but would it really be so terrible to give me a chance?”

“Yes.”

“Why? What happened to you?”

Ziken cackling. Sharp teeth. A flash of red. Torrin’s and Havard’s laughter—all of this flashes through my mind in the time it takes me to blink.

“You can tell Iric,” I say, “that he has nothing to worry about. Besides, I won’t be here long. Just until I’m healed.”

Soren watches me for a moment, and I can tell his mind is turning, thinking … something. I think he comes to some conclusion, and I really hope it’s him accepting the fact that we are not a possibility.

“Won’t we at least see more of you now?” he asks.

“Now?” I repeat.

“Now that we’re friends.”

I scoff at the word.

“Surely we’re at least friends now, Rasmira. You saved my life from the ziken. We faced the gunda together. You jumped into the hyggja lake with me to save Iric. Either we’re friends, or you’re really just the most selfless person in all the seven villages.”

I’m a warrior. I’ve always done what warriors do. We protect others.

And now Soren wants to be friends because of it.

That’s how things started with Torrin. First, he was my friend. Then he pretended that we could be something more. But Torrin’s end goal was to get me killed.

Soren wants to help. Because he owes me a life debt. A boy who is so honor-bound could not have dark intentions. And if he does, I cannot fathom what they would be. Romantically, I have no interest in him, but …

“You saved my life. For that, you may call me your friend,” I say at last, even if I’m uncertain I could consider him mine.

“Good,” Soren says. “I’d like to have at least one out here.”

“But you have Iric.”

Soren shakes his head. “We are together for survival’s sake. But we are not friends. Not anymore.”

I have so many questions for my … friend. But even now my eyes weigh as heavy as stones.

“Get some rest,” Soren says, as though I need the encouragement.



* * *



WHEN I WAKE AGAIN, it’s to the smell of something delicious cooking.

Iric has moved one of the chairs over by the fireplace, and he turns valder meat over on a spit as he stares at the flames.

I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to make conversation with him, so I try to think of something to say.

“You’ve—” My voice comes out as a croak. I cough and try again. “You’ve built a very nice life for yourself out here. I’m impressed by your home. I didn’t think it was possible to survive in the wild.”

Iric doesn’t turn at the sound of my voice, but he answers, “It became easier once we learned more of the wild’s secrets. In the villages, the people are isolated. They only have access to the plants and animals nearby. There is more that grows deeper in the wild. There are trees that remain strong long after they’re cut. There are new metals not found in our mines. There are plants that are edible. Beasts that are more dangerous.”

“About the plants—Soren mentioned sampling them to learn which were edible.”

Iric’s head lifts from the flames. “He did, and back then, I was far too angry to care if he lived or died.”

“I tried asking Soren what happened at your trial.”

“And?”

“He said it wasn’t his story to tell.”

“Soren,” Iric mutters, “ever so loyal. Sometimes he makes being angry with him very difficult.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Iric chews on the inside of his lip. “How were you banished? You are clearly a competent ax-bearer.”

“I asked you first.”

“Sometimes you have to give before you can receive.”

“Why am I the one who has to give first?”

“Because you’re in my house and I’m cooking food for you.”

I try to shift my weight to relieve all the pressure on my back. All I manage is to make the pain in my abdomen intensify.

“You are a riveting conversationalist,” Iric says when I don’t comment.

I try for a leading statement. “Soren can’t be the reason you’re banished, surely.”