Without another word, Steinunn left, closing my door behind her.
I stood staring at the planks of wood for a long time, my feet growing so cold they ached. Yet rather than climbing back into my furs, I swiftly washed myself with water that a servant had brought at some point, then donned a clean dress. I removed the ties on my braids, combing my fingers through until my hair hung long and loose down my back.
The door creaked when I opened it and I winced, though I wasn’t entirely certain why. Perhaps because I felt uncertain about whether I really wanted to reenter the world, needed my first steps to be taken without notice. Stepping out, I pulled the door shut, and then nearly jumped out of my skin when I noticed a figure from the corner of my eye.
“Bjorn,” I stammered, my heart galloping.
“Freya.”
Bjorn was leaning against the wall, but at his feet was a neatly rolled pallet and a half-empty water cup. I swallowed hard as the understanding that he’d been outside my door filled me. “Please tell me that you haven’t been sleeping out here.”
He lifted one shoulder. “My father is concerned for your well-being.”
My teeth dug deep into my bottom lip because I knew the concern was less about what others might do and more about what I might do myself. “I’m fine.”
His jaw tightened, green eyes boring into mine until I looked away. But not before I noted the dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks scruffier than was his preference, and his clothes rumpled. Whether he’d been here every moment I’d spent hiding in the room, I couldn’t say, but he certainly hadn’t taken any time to care for himself.
“Steinunn told me that my brother and Ingrid have come to Grindill,” I blurted out, needing to end the silence.
Bjorn snorted. “It’s true enough. They arrived with Ylva and the others from Halsar.”
“Did Snorri order him to come?” Unease filled me, because the only reason Snorri had to bring them here was to have more immediate leverage over me. Was it because I’d challenged his authority during the siege?
“No.” He gave a sharp shake of his head, irritation palpable. “Your idiot brother paid a healer to mend his leg, then came to beg he be allowed to have his place back in my father’s war band. Which my father has agreed to as reward for the successes you have achieved.”
Geir had chosen to come to Grindill? Had brought Ingrid of his own volition?
A tide of anger surged through my veins at his utter fucking stupidity. “Where is he?”
“Enjoying the fruits of your labors, I expect.” Bjorn pushed away from the wall. “I’ll bring you to him.”
He led me into the great hall, and though I’d probably come this way when I’d been given a room after the battle, nothing seemed familiar. My eyes skipped over the riches that Gnut had accumulated over his time as jarl of this place, carved furniture and thick wall hangings, all of it now Snorri’s. All of it befitting a king.
“Already Jarl Arme Gormson and Jarl Ivar Rolfson have come to swear oaths,” Bjorn said, breaking the silence. “More will follow, especially once Steinunn begins her travels through Skaland, spreading word of your”—he hesitated—“battle fame.”
More like infamy.
“Steinunn wishes me to listen to her sing,” I said, wondering if Bjorn was one of the people she’d spoken to, whether part of her story was his. “I told her no.”
He said nothing, but I felt his eyes on me as we stepped out of the great hall and into the streets of the town.
Little had been done in the way of repairs to the damaged buildings, though a quick glance told me that was because all efforts had been put toward repairing the gaping hole I’d blasted in the wall. Dozens of men and women worked to replace the charred planks of wood, even the children set to helping, small forms racing about on errands. Busy though they were, everyone paused in their tasks to watch Bjorn and me pass, and I felt their wariness as though it were a tangible thing, not one of them meeting my gaze.
Nausea twisted in my guts because this was what I’d been hiding from.
Judgment.
And it didn’t feel fair. Ours was a violent people, and what I’d done was no worse than what any of the warriors here had done. Bjorn had likely killed more men than he could count, yet no one was watching him like they half expected him to cut off their heads for looking at him.
“That wall won’t rebuild itself,” Bjorn shouted. “And I think none wish for there to be a hole in it when our enemies arrive at the gates!”