Warrior of the Wild(57)

“But that test was against ziken,” Iric says. “I’m still not very skilled at defeating them. I killed an underwater beast. The two aren’t even related. How is this the goddess’s will? The mattugr was given by men. How do they know her will? Shouldn’t I feel redeemed if this is what she wanted of me?” Then quietly, “Maybe she truly doesn’t exist.”

Iric’s words are troubling. Is this how I will feel if I kill the god? Will I have done nothing?

“I think you’ll feel differently,” Soren says, “once you walk back into Restin and see the faces of your mother and father.”

“Perhaps,” Iric says. He rolls onto his feet. “But I’ll have to wait to find that out. First, I have some armor to make.”

Iric holds out a hand to me. I take it, and he helps me to my feet.

“Let’s go get cleaned up. We all stink.”



* * *



THE WASHING POOLS ARE our first destination. Once done, we return to the tree house and change into dry clothes, hanging up our now clean ones to dry. Iric bandages the bite above my elbow before walking off with the hyggja’s head in a leather sack slung over his shoulder. He mutters something about finding a way to keep it preserved until returning to the village. Leaving him to it, Soren and I get started on supper.

I feel as though I haven’t eaten in days after all the toiling in the water.

My stomach groans as I add more kindling to my growing fire. Meanwhile, Soren prepares the valder meat for the spit. He keeps pausing in his work and looking over at me, as though he has something he wants to say. In the end, he keeps looking away and focusing on his task.

I think to call him out on it, but then I wonder if I don’t want to hear whatever it is.

As Soren sets the spit over the fire, he finally speaks. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for Iric. You did for him what I could not. He wouldn’t let me teach him to swim. Wouldn’t hear anything I had to say about our quests. And honestly, we couldn’t have killed the hyggja with only two people. We needed a third.

“Iric’s banishment has weighed on me for a year. It’s all I could think about. That guilt was never-ending, and now…” He looks at me, and though our eyes have met many times in all the while we’ve known each other, this time is different. My stomach tightens, heats, and I feel as though we’re saying things just by holding each other’s stare.

“Thank you,” he says. “You didn’t just save Iric. You saved me. In more ways than one.” And before I know what’s happening, he leans down and leaves a kiss on my cheek. He pulls back and stares down at my mouth, then at my eyes.

Torrin’s face flashes across my vision. How long ago was it when he kissed my cheek rather than my lips as I so desperately wanted? I’ve decided that I won’t let him win anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can suddenly control when he enters my thoughts.

And though I’ve decided Soren can be my friend, I haven’t had a chance to think of him as being anything else.

So I don’t encourage him. I look away and step back. “You’re welcome, Soren. I did what any friend would.”

Perhaps saying that word was a bit much, but Soren gets the hint. “I’m going to check on Iric. See if he found something to do with that head for safekeeping.”

He bolts down the trapdoor faster than a hare running from a fox.

I let out a held breath as I think of Soren. Soren and his nice lips. Once, all I wanted was to know what it felt like to be kissed. And now the thought of kissing brings a bitter taste to my mouth.

I hate that. I want to think of Soren that way. I want to wonder why he wants to kiss me. If it’s because he still thinks of me as his savior, or if he really sees me, beyond the warrior. I want to puzzle through our time together, want to figure out the moment when maybe things started to change for us.

But I can’t.

The more I try, the more his face mottles into Torrin’s. I see Torrin holding that ziken head with my blood smeared across its teeth. I see the smile he had at my expense when he succeeded in his plan. I see him by Havard’s side, the two of them relishing the moment as the venom takes hold of me and sends me sprawling on the ground.

Silent tears fall from my eyes. I wipe them away hurriedly.

Girls cry. Warriors don’t cry.

Dammit, Father. I’m a person. I have feelings. I was so screwed over, and if I want to cry, I’m allowed to.

Once I give myself permission, a weight seems to grow light and float away from me.

I don’t care what my father thinks of me anymore. I loved him, and he abandoned me the moment I didn’t suit his purposes.

No one commands me out in the wild. I will behave the way I want to. I will be who I am, and I won’t hate myself for it.

I was taught to be respectful to my parents, because it was part of Rexasena’s teachings. It is one of the many things we must do to gain access into her Paradise. But will she forgive me if I don’t believe everything my parents have said or done to me?

Instantly, warmth floods through me. I feel light as air, capable of doing anything, and most importantly, loved. Whether it’s my own imaginings or the goddess herself strengthening me, I don’t care.

“Thank you, goddess,” I whisper, grateful for the comfort, wherever it comes from.