Or maybe it was because of something else.
There was only one way to find out.
“Well, I do care about the debt,” Oddny said. “But that’s not why I care about you.”
Halldor regarded her with suspicion. “Why, then?”
“Because you aren’t who I thought you were.”
“And who did you think I was?” he asked with what seemed like forced calm. “Besides dishonorable.”
“Yes—no—but—” She waved her hands, searching for the words. “But, Halldor—can you blame me for thinking that? We met when your friends were burning down my home, murdering those closest to me—”
“I understand. And I’ve apologized for the pain it caused you. I feel guilty that I had any part in it. But it’s—it’s what we do, Oddny. Even Gunnhild’s father knew that much. He couldn’t condemn me without condemning himself and every other man he’d ever known.”
Oddny’s temper flared. How had this conversation taken such a turn?
“No wonder you get on so well with Eirik,” she said. “But why is that? I’ve wondered about it. A moon ago you were only joining his hird to get rich and pay off your debt to me faster. And now you’re up before the sun to spar with him on the field, and telling him your secrets? Explain that to me.”
Halldor clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut, as if his next words were going to physically pain him to speak.
“He isn’t who I thought he was, either,” he said at last.
This brought Oddny up short, extinguished her anger as though pinching a candle flame, and all she could say was, “Oh.”
Halldor said into the awkward silence that followed, “So, who do you think I am now?”
Oddny hugged her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and fiddled with the hem, looking at the ground. “I do think you’re an honorable man. Because . . .”
“Yes?” he prompted.
“On the way here, when the storm hit, you did what you had to do and then you—you came to help me. I didn’t even ask. You may have even saved my life that day,” she said, and as she moved closer to him, she finally met his eyes. “When that big wave hit the ship and knocked Gunnhild overboard, you could have loosened your hold on me, let me drown, and everyone would’ve thought it was an accident. You could’ve let me go in after Gunnhild and drown myself, even. With me dead, you’d be released from your debt for good. But you didn’t. You held on to me when you could have let go. Why?”
He seemed confused. “Because I didn’t want you to die?”
“But why not?” Oddny insisted. “I’m no one to you. I’m—”
Halldor’s next words erupted from him as forcefully as a dam breaking: “Because I care about you, too, all right?”
“You . . . do?”
“Yes. Because of who you’ve proven yourself to be,” he said, still speaking quickly, as though afraid that if he didn’t get the words out now, he never would. “Not just with those healing skills of yours, but with what you’re doing for Signy. I hadn’t expected it. You’re a farm girl, and I—I thought for certain you’d stay at Ozur’s and wait for my silver, find a husband, then settle down and spend the rest of your days raising children and wondering whatever became of your sister. But no. Even before Gunnhild came back to help you, you were determined to do the impossible. To rescue your sister no matter what. Oddny Ketilsdottir, you are extraordinary.”
Oddny’s mouth had gone dry.
“Extraordinary?” she echoed. “You think I’m—”
“Yes,” said Halldor. “I do.”
She gaped at him for another moment, then shook her head. “No. You don’t mean that. I’m not—and if I am, it’s only because of what happened. Before, I was . . . different. My entire life, all I thought I wanted was to follow in my mother’s footsteps. I didn’t know that I could want other things. But Signy always did. It didn’t take desperation to change her, as it did me.”
“But you did change,” Halldor said. “The raid sent you down a path you never could have imagined for yourself otherwise. You have no idea how much I can relate to that.”
Oddny swiped at her eyes with her shawl and let out a small wet laugh, looking down again. “Signy and I argued that day. The day of the raid. She told me I was boring. That the only thing that made me special was that I’d make a good little wife.”
Eyes still downcast, she felt more than saw Halldor move closer to her, and then, to her surprise, his hand came up to brush away a tear from her eye, and he said softly, “Well, when you’re the one to save her, she’ll know just how wrong she was.”
The silence between them felt as charged as the air before a thunderstorm. And when she raised her head, and her eyes found his, lightning struck.
Then their lips met and the rest of the world fell away.
She felt like she was floating, felt that it was right, as his hands moved down to her waist to pull her closer and her arm wrapped around his neck, the other hand pressing against his ribs, lingering momentarily in curiosity as her fingers found the outline of something—the bottom edge of what felt like a stiff, thick garment beneath his tunic, and then—
His breath hitched and he jerked away.
Oddny stepped back, confused. “Halldor?”
“Wait,” he said, running a hand through his russet hair. His face was red, his breathing ragged. “Wait.”
“Oh.” Oddny’s cheeks burned with shame. “Did I do something wrong? I—I don’t have much experience in the way of—”
“It’s not that. I’m—it’s just—” Halldor rubbed his forehead. “Before this goes any further, I have to tell you what I told Eirik earlier.”
Oddny blinked in surprise.
He straightened, seeming to steel himself. “But—but whatever you think of it, what I’m about to tell you must be kept to yourself, all right? I’m not ashamed, not even a little, but it wouldn’t be safe for me if people knew. Even Eirik agreed on that. All right?”
“Of course,” Oddny said with growing anxiousness. “Please just tell me.”
And he said, “When I was born, my father gave me a daughter’s name. And when he died, I took my own.”
It took a moment for what he was saying to sink in, and then she realized several things at once: why he’d avoided the bathhouse when it was crowded, why Eirik had looked him up and down as though searching for a clue that would confirm the truth of his words. And once that truth had settled in her mind, she found that it changed nothing of her feelings for him, or her desire to be closer to him.
“Do you understand?” Halldor’s eyes searched hers. “Say something.”
“Yes. I understand.” She hesitated. “What did Eirik say when you told him?”
Halldor clearly hadn’t anticipated the question, but he looked down at his arm ring and said, “He said his decision stood. He said, ‘You’re not a man I want to see coming at me from the other side of the battlefield.’？”