Agony stabbed up my legs, my feet feeling as though they were pressed against Bjorn’s axe and my skin was melting away. I screamed wordlessly, struggling to pull away from the fire, but hands gripped my legs, holding them in place.
“Stop,” I pleaded between sobs. “You’re hurting me!”
“I know it hurts, but the pain is a good thing.” Bjorn had me locked against his chest, the roughness of his chin rubbing against my cheek. “It means your feet are warming.”
“It’s too much heat.” Tears and snot ran down my face. “You’re burning me! Take them out of the fire!” I shrieked the last because no one was listening and oh gods it hurt.
“There’s no fire, lass,” someone said. “Just Bodil’s armpits. Won’t harm you but for the stink.”
“Says the man who smells like arsehole,” Bodil answered, and a dozen voices chuckled. We were surrounded by Halsar’s warriors, I realized. It was their hands holding my legs in place, their bodies blocking the wind. Protecting me despite the fact it was supposed to be the other way around.
Sudden, irrational panic filled me that the gods would punish them for this. I was supposed to stand alone, to overcome my trials alone, to be alone.
Fear must have given breath to my thoughts, for everyone went silent, the only howl the wind, then an old warrior said, “The gods said nothing of the sort, girl. I was there when Saga spoke her foretelling, and I watched the gods themselves appear during your sacrifice at Fjalltindr. Nothing was said about you doing anything alone.”
I clenched my teeth, waiting to hear Snorri’s voice telling them that they were wrong, but if he was there, he was silent.
“You’ve never been alone,” Bjorn said, his voice so soft that no one but me would hear over the wind and my weeping. “I will be at your back until I cross the threshold to Valhalla, Born-in-Fire, whether you want me there or not.”
My chest tightened, and cloaked by darkness, I allowed myself to turn my face into his chest and give in to the pain. To sob and shriek as sensation burned its way back into my feet and hands, not because it was more than I could bear but because I needed to get the hurt out. Bjorn held me tight, stroking my hair, the certainty that he would not walk away crumbling all the walls I’d built around my heart until exhaustion drove me to sleep.
* * *
—
I woke, the pain of frostbite reminding me instantly where I was, which was fortunate, given I was surrounded by blackness.
And wrapped in someone’s arms.
I went rigid, awareness of all the places I was pressed against Bjorn slapping me into instant alertness. His arm cushioned my head, my cheek resting on his thick biceps and his other arm around my middle, gripping my hands in his larger one. My back was against his chest, my arse tight against the hard plane of his stomach, and my feet were caught between his calves. Though every inch of me hurt, I was blissfully warm beneath the thick fur.
Bjorn shifted. “You all right?”
“Yes.” My mouth was dry, and I swallowed, trying to clear the rasp. “Thank you.”
He didn’t answer, and for a moment I thought he’d fallen back asleep. Except there was a tension to him that suggested he was very much awake.
Move, I told myself. You’re warm now—sleep on your own.
Instead I held my breath, waiting for him to speak…to do something, though I wasn’t certain what.
A loud snort only inches from my face startled me and Bjorn gave a soft laugh. “Bodil snores.” I felt his arm straighten under my head, and Bodil muttered a curse and rolled noisily away from us, presumably to escape another shove. Blinking away the crust of tears on my lashes, I saw other furred shapes, barely visible in the darkness. Though that they were visible at all meant dawn was coming.
And with it, the first significant battle of my life.
I blew out a long breath, trepidation rising in my chest. In a few hours, we’d descend to attack Grindill, and so much depended on me. On my magic. If I failed, dozens would die. Men and women who’d risked Snorri’s wrath last night to help me would put their lives on the line with total faith that victory was my destiny, and the sudden weight of that burden would have staggered me if I’d been standing.
I, having barely escaped death last night, might die today.
The thought reminded me of the regret that had coursed through me when I’d believed my life was over. A few hours from now I might well be lying bleeding in the dirt and feeling the same regret, and I didn’t want that for myself.