Land of Fury, page 18
“We have no quarrel with you,” Reider calls, his voice booming in the deafening silence. “We are only heading south.”
No one replies, only stares.
I’m not sure what’s worse, their utter silence or the looks of loathing on their faces. I want to tell them I’m sorry—whatever my mother or these men have done, I wish I could undo it. But those are the ignorant words of a spare princess who has lived behind castle walls all her life, and I know it will not change what these people have lost, nor what they have endured.
I lock eyes with a woman as we pass, and she leans over to the man beside her, whispering in his ear. Holding my breath, I wait for what might come next. But nothing happens, and if they recognize me, their expressions give nothing away.
I grip onto Zander tighter, averting my gaze as we continue past.
It isn’t until the mountain village is only the size of my thumb in the distance that I wilt against Zander, melting into his strength and warmth. “How do you do it?” I ask, though I don’t expect he’ll answer.
“We have no choice,” he replies quietly, then nods to the cliff ahead. “We will stop there to rest, but only for a moment.”
I glance back at Fiske and Alik, trailing behind us as they keep watch.
“We will follow the Labyrinth of Stone to Windwich, where we will stay for the night.”
Labyrinth of Stone? Windwich?
“I have never—”
“Like many of these places, princess, you will not find them on your mother’s maps. She only knows the places where she has been, and those we tell her about.” There’s a wryness in his voice I haven’t heard before.
“You keep things from my mother? Why?”
He cranes his neck to look at me. “Why do you think?”
As we draw closer to the cliff, I register the roar of water. The falls echo so loud, I imagine endless rapids pouring over and between rocks into a churning flurry. But what I see is more otherworldly than that.
When Baldr stops at the cliff, I peer down at the roiling blue, and my surmounting questions for Zander no longer matter. Rainbows dance in the mist and float in the air as the water consumes the ravine. It tumbles over the ragged cliff into a deep blue lagoon, and I lose myself in the sight of such a mystical place, far more beautiful than I thought this barren, frozen wasteland was ever capable of.
Clicking Baldr forward, Zander leads him down a narrow path, following Karra and the others. For the first time, excitement fills me as I consider what other wonders of Norseland have been kept from me all these years.
27
THORA
Snow falls in veils of white as we follow the rushing river through the Labyrinth of Stone. With countless ravines and craggy, snow-topped mountains, it all looks the same—perfect for its ominous name. I’m not sure how the horsemen know where they are, or which chasm to turn at, but their horses’ steps are sure-footed, and we continue our quickened pace through the brutal terrain.
It isn’t long before the skies darken to night, and the wind becomes bitter cold as it whips through the canyon. Frostbite nips its razor-sharp teeth, and as the snowfall thickens, it becomes far too easy to lose our way in weather like this.
There have been winters when supplies ran too short for my mother’s comfort, when we’d been locked indoors for days on end, without even a hint of moonlight. But out here, there is nothing to hide behind. There are no fires to light or extra layers to don, and this is the first time since leaving Winterwood Keep I feel like a coddled princess. Cocooned in my fox fur cloak, rabbit scarf, woolen gloves, and the sheepskin boots cradling my feet, I’m still the coldest I have ever been.
Zander has already forced me to wear his cloak, taking his only source of warmth, so I don’t dare complain as I clasp it tighter, covering us both as best I can.
No one else complains either, wrapped with well-worn scarves and cloaks of their own, clearly used to such conditions. Or maybe it’s that they have never had the luxury of complaining.
Once again, I feel grossly out of place and I question what I’m doing, dragging these people across the kingdom because I am afraid what future my mother has in store for me.
“Windwich!” Alik calls, and he points toward torch lights, barely visible as they whip in the storm.
The horsemen, even Zander and Karra, quicken their horses’ pace as we draw closer. But as the silence among our party turns to excited murmurs, my nerves fray a little more.
Windwich clearly isn’t expecting us, and though Zander would not put me in harm’s way, I also know there is scant shelter out here in the middle of the snow lands. Imagining these people might be anything like those in Everwall Grove makes me uneasy.
Through the storm, it’s difficult to tell how large the village is, only that it isn’t like the burned ones I’ve seen. It’s simple and intact, and the longhouse we ride toward has a severe A-frame roof that keeps the snow from bearing down on it. Zander pulls Baldr to a stop under a wooden covering, extending from the front of building, and the horsemen dismount, eager to be rid of the cold. Dane grips hold of my waist and helps me down, and the instant my feet sink through the snow and hit the ground, all the blood rushes back to my legs.
Zander dismounts next, and as he lifts Baldr’s reins over the horse’s head, I reach for his arm. Zander looks at me over his shoulder. Snow clings to his closely trimmed beard, and the wind tugs his loose hair from under his hood.
“You will keep my identity from them as well,” I say. “Won’t you?”
Zander stares at me as he hands Baldr’s reins to Dane.
“I don’t know if I can bear that look in their eyes again, knowing they wish me dead—”
“Liv!” Alik bellows through the storm, startling me. He hands his horse’s reins to Fiske. Like everyone else, Alik hastily unbuckles his things from his saddle and discards them under the shelter.
The front entrance of the longhouse creaks open, and the woman peering out instantly straightens. The heavy door opens farther, exposing her and two servants.
“Alik?” Liv—I presume—steps out, wrapping her cloak tighter around her as she takes in our large party. Her dark hair whips around her face. “What on earth—”
I blink, stroking Baldr’s face as everyone moves in a blur. Liv turns, gripping the doorway and leaning inside as she calls into the longhouse for more servants. Zander removes his things from the saddle. A young man hurries outside to us. I can’t hear what Zander says to him, but the young man, about sixteen, nods. Whatever happens next, however, is lost on me as Alik wraps his big arms around Liv and lifts her up for a long, clearly overdue kiss.
She kisses him back, fervently and oblivious to the snowstorm. When Alik sets her down again, Liv slaps his face. “Where the hell have you been?” she demands, and as my hand flies to my mouth, I chuckle.
“Kaldr will see to you,” Zander says in my ear over the wind. I startle and look at him. He nods for me to follow the boy, then looks at Karra to do the same. She falls into step behind me, her meager things clutched to her chest.
I chance another glance at Alik and Liv, smiling at their embrace, and hurry from under the covering into the longhouse with Karra. Our collective sigh resounds in the sudden warmth, and a tinge of woodsmoke hits my nose.
“It has been quite a while since I have been so cold,” she says roughly, her voice hoarse from disuse.
I shiver as the chill slowly recedes, and I admire the longhouse. It is two stories tall with thick trunk posts bracing it along the center. A fire blazes in a long stone pit between two of the up beams and a few large dining tables throughout the space. Candles and prettily painted ceramics decorate the tables, and bundles of sage and herbs hang from the rafters. Woven tapestries adorn the walls, making the place feel lived in, like it’s more a home than a feasting hall. A second story loft lines each side of the hall, with individual alcoves separated by the drapery that’s gathered between them. The hall is an inn of sorts, and I breathe a bit more easily.
“This way,” Kaldr says, nodding toward the stairs. Though he is tall with broad shoulders, his voice cracks like he might actually be fourteen or fifteen.
Karra and I look at one another, realizing we’re dawdling by the precious warmth of the fire. Her nose and cheeks are red, her eyes glassy from the cold, and she looks as relieved as I do to have arrived at this place.
“I will show you where you can rest,” Kaldr continues, “and I will have Lou bring you both some warm bath water.”
“Thank you,” Karra and I say brightly. I nearly melt at the promise of such a thing.
As we follow Kaldr up the steps, the horsemen march inside, their jovial laughter more boisterous than ever. They stomp the slush from their boots, sounding almost giddy as they sigh and thank their gods they’ve finally arrived. It’s the first time I have seen them shed their apprehension entirely, and given Alik’s warm welcome, it’s obvious they are comfortable here. With such knowledge, I allow myself to revel in Kaldr’s kindness with a little more ease.
“I was not expecting you,” Liv says as she hurries inside, rubbing her arms. “Warm yourselves by the fire, and we will bring food and ale to the tables.” She peers up at me and Karra as we reach the landing. “I will be up shortly with some fresh clothes,” she promises, and as I open my mouth to thank her, she disappears into the back of the longhouse, out of sight.
Kaldr leads us along the banister, past the first alcove. The drapes are gathered, exposing a trunk for storage against the wall, a pallet of furs and pillows on the floor, and a stump for a bedside table.
“You can stay in this one, miss,” Kaldr says, nodding for Karra to set her things down. “Though I should warn you. Fiske sleeps just there, and he snores.” Kaldr nods to the stall after hers.
“I think I can manage. Thank you.” She smiles at him, and he dips his head.
“And this is Zander’s corner,” Kaldr says, hurrying down two more stalls. “This is where you will sleep tonight, my lady.”
My cheeks flush. “Zander’s corner? Where will he sleep?”
“There are other beds, but he requested you have this one. It is the most private,” he explains. As Kaldr unbinds the drapes, I take Zander’s area in—the sheepskin rug plush beneath my feet, the rabbit fur blankets covering the pallet, and a deep, circular basin I can fold and submerge myself into. I imagine Zander in here, tending to his scars where no one can see.
“You will sleep well,” Kaldr promises, and he opens the curtain to step out.
“I am grateful, thank you,” I say, brimming with excitement to chase the chill from my bones.
Kaldr bows his head, but his eyes linger on mine. With only the light from the flickering fire below, it’s difficult to see him clearly, yet there is something about the boy that looks familiar. After watching Alik and Liv’s reunion, I wonder if Kaldr is Alik’s son, and that is the resemblance?
“My mother will bring candles and clothing for you to change into,” he says, but still his eyes linger.
I shift on my feet. “That would be lovely,” I whisper, afraid to remove my hood.
After a moment more, Kaldr leaves me in my corner of the loft. But as he hurries away, my eyes catch his as he glances back. He knows who I am. He must.
“I am starved,” Gunhild announces below, and stepping to the railing, I peer down at the horsemen pouring themselves horns of ale at one table. Their chairs scrape and thud as they crowd around it, settling in with utter contentment.
“Ah, here you are, my lady.” Liv walks down the landing with a stack of folded clothes. Servants, or perhaps more of her family, come up behind her with jugs of steaming water. “Zander has a basin in there you can use to bathe,” she says, scurrying past me. She is a hostess on a mission to get her tenants comfortable for the night.
Liv barely spares me a glance as she sets the clothes down on the bedside table and motions for her helpers to fill the tub. As the water sloshes in and the steam rises, I can’t unclasp my cloak fast enough as I head back into my protective nook.
“Here,” Liv says, stepping closer. “I will take it for you. We can hang your things over here to dry.” She busies herself, tending to my scant belongings as I stand in exhausted surprise.
“This is so unexpected and wonderful, Liv. Thank you.” I feel like a parrot, unable to sufficiently express my gratitude to these people, but I don’t care. “It has been days since I had a bath.”
One of her helpers comes in with another jug, and this time with a tallow pillar candle, burning bright. She hands it to Liv, who thanks the young woman before handing it to me. “Make yourself comfortable, princess. When you are ready, you can join us for something to eat.”
The candle flame illuminates Liv’s face far more than the dancing shadows emanating from the hall below, and I freeze. “You,” I breathe, my mouth gaping. I would remember those pleading, honey-brown eyes and comely features anywhere.
I fumble with my cloak, searching for the pocket until my trembling fingers find the smooth stone. I hold it up to her. “You—you are the fletcher. But you are dead,” I croak, utterly confused.
Liv chuckles. “I assure you, Your Highness, I am not.”
Emotion is so thick in my throat, I think I might choke on it, and my eyes well with tears. I don’t understand. “The boy—Kaldr,” I murmur. It’s another realization that sends my mind swirling. “He is your son. From the market.”
There’s a softness in the woman’s eyes as she guides me down onto the bed to sit. “All this time—” I shake my head, anger inflaming each and every nerve. “How are you alive? They told me you were dead.”
“It is all right, princess. Take a deep breath.” I feel her hand on my back, but all I can do is glare at nothing as tears fill my eyes.
My gaze snaps to her. “All of this time,” I start again, “I thought I had killed you both.”
That familiar sympathy of hers shines bright in her eyes. “No, Your Highness. You did not.”
Rising on trembling feet, I lift the drape and step to the balcony, peering down at the horsemen.
Fiske reaches for a hunk of bread and cheese, and Reider smacks his hand away. “We wait for the princess.”
Fiske smacks him back. “We aren’t supposed to call her that.”
Cold air billows up to the second floor, but I barely notice as I glare at Zander stepping inside. Snow falls from his shoulders as the door groans shut behind him, and my heart fills with fury, my eyes full of tears.
As if the huntsman—the man I’ve loathed for so long—can sense me staring at him, he peers up at me, slowly tugging his gloves off his fingers.
I shake my head in utter disbelief. It was all another lie, one that has torn me to shreds every day since.
28
THORA
Hair cleaned and braided, and outfitted in a simple wool dress, I sit with Zander and his horsemen, Karra, Liv, and Kaldr around two large tables pushed together for our evening meal. I’m not much for conversation, so I listen to everyone else as I stew in the numbing realization that I have wasted the past five years of my life, mourning the loss of innocent people who never died, and hating myself for trusting Zander. Only, he never broke my trust at all. He only wanted me to think he had. And now, the guilt eating away at me for all this time is replaced with bitterness.
Dane pushes his wooden plate away to stop himself from picking at the cheese. Rubbing his belly with a contented grunt, he exchanges a look with his father. Elof, with his gray hair still wild from riding all day in the wind, puffs on his pipe, observing the happiness that fills the room. Though he is the oldest and most serious of the horsemen, his steely eyes and the youthful smile that curves into place beneath his mustache soften the angles of his face.
“What has it been?” Liv prompts, leaning back in her seat at the head of the table. “Six months?”
Gunhild guzzles what’s left in her drinking horn so she can put it down, then leans back as well. When Kaldr lifts the jug to pour her more, she waves him away. “Better not,” she says. Her glassy eyes are red-rimmed with exhaustion and drink. Everyone is sated, full of ale and meat, bread and cheese.
“Seven months,” Alik corrects Liv with a smirk. “Nearly eight. Trust me, I’ve been counting.” His ginger eyebrows dance. She’s clearly missed him filling her bed as much as he’s missed being in it, because her honey-brown eyes shine with longing.
I have seen servants rutting in hallways and behind the stables when they think no one is looking. I have read about love and erotic pleasure. Still, I am not used to such blatant affection as she grabs him playfully under the table, making him groan. I blush despite myself and look away. When I’m met with Zander’s watchful gaze, my flush only deepens.
Chair legs scrape the floor as Alik jumps to his feet.
“Right,” Liv says, hurriedly joining him. “Kaldr, be sure to feed the pigs the scraps,” she commands. She takes Alik’s hand and he leads her through the hall and behind the partition, into her quarters in the back of the longhouse.
The table chuckles, except for Kaldr, who looks at me, slightly mortified and shaking his head. I smile reassuringly but take a sip from my barely touched ale, to cool the heat from my cheeks.
“It looks like you have been more productive than we have,” Reider says, picking something from his teeth with the edge of his knife. He looks at Kaldr. “The stable looks finished.”
“Yes. My mother said we needed to house more than just your sorry lot. I organized some villagers last month, and we raised another smokehouse as well. And there’s a foundry now. Dash, that older man you brought in earlier this year, is a skilled ironworker. He’s forged new bracings for many of the buildings, to help reinforce the main structures for the snow.”
“Aye, that is good news,” Elof murmurs. There’s a satisfaction—a sense of pride, if I’m not mistaken—in his voice. “I wondered how he would do after he lost that leg of his. An accident like that changes a man.”
