If this was the gods’ idea of a reward, I prayed I’d never feel the pain of punishment.
Snorri wasn’t through. “Lest the rest of you see the favor the gods show her as license for apathy, know that if she loses her hand, I’ll cut the fingers off every one of you myself!”
“An answer for everything,” Bjorn muttered under his breath before shouting, “Get the salve from my saddlebags.” His hand still gripped my chin, holding my face high so that I couldn’t look down.
“I’m sorry,” I said to him, a tremor running through me.
“You should be.” He held my gaze, and I swore it was the only thing keeping me from screaming. “All the women in Halsar will curse your name if I lose half my fingers.”
I blinked, then comprehended what he meant. My teeth bared in a snarl over him making light of my pain. “Or perhaps they’ll praise me for sparing them your grasping hands.”
He grinned, his teeth bright white against his sun-browned skin. “You only think that because you haven’t heard of my reputation. After a day or two in Halsar you will know the truth of things.”
All I wanted was to scream and scream and scream, but I forced myself to say, “The truth women tell other women is not the same truth they tell men.”
His smile grew. “There can be only one truth. All else is falsity.”
I managed to choke out, “Exactly.”
He laughed, but his hold on my face and arm tightened. A second later, I understood why as someone’s hands touched my burns, the pain turning the world bright white, only Bjorn’s grip keeping me upright as I howled and sobbed.
“Easy, Freya.” His voice was low and soft. “The salve will take away the pain.”
I drew in a ragged breath.
“Bjorn,” someone muttered, “this is—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “We need to hurry.”
The urgency fueled my fear, but I needed to see. Needed to know how bad it was. “Let me look.”
His jaw tightened. “Freya…”
I pulled my chin from his grip and looked down. The skin of my wrist and hand was covered with a thick red paste, but not my palm. Because my palm…
The skin was gone.
I stared at the blackened mess of ash, gagged, then twisted and vomited, the world swimming.
“I warned you.” Bjorn wrapped a cloth around my burns, then stooped down, his arms going behind my knees and shoulders.
“I can walk,” I protested, though that might have been a lie.
Was definitely a lie.
“I’m sure you can.” He lifted me as though I weighed no more than a child, settling me against his chest. “But this will give you a better story for Steinunn to sing about. You always want a good story to go with your scars.”
“Freya!”
Geir was trying to crawl toward me, tears streaming down his face. “Why did you do it?” he wept. “Your hand is ruined!”
“It’s not ruined, you idiot,” Bjorn snapped. “And your mewling is not helpful.”
Geir’s eyes darkened. “It’s your fault, Firehand. It was your axe that did this to her.”
Through my dizziness and fear, my anger rose. “I did it to myself,” I said between my teeth. “I don’t regret it. Vragi would have ruined Ingrid’s life. And yours.”
“I’m your brother—I’m the one who is supposed to protect you.”
His words only fueled my anger. “If you think that’s the way of it, then you really haven’t been paying attention.”
“Get him on a horse and send him back to his mother,” Snorri snapped at his men. “And Geir, I don’t want to see your face until you learn to hold your tongue.”
The pain in my hand was easing, whatever concoction Bjorn smeared on it numbing me from elbow to fingertip. Yet instead of feeling better, I felt cold as ice, shivers taking over as Bjorn carried me to his horse. He lifted me onto the animal’s shoulders, then swiftly swung into the saddle, pulling me against him. My arse was pressed against his pelvis and his arm was wrapped around my middle, the proximity reminding me of my exchange with him on the beach. “I can ride alone.”
“Not enough horses.”
“Then behind,” I whispered. “I can ride behind you.”
He snorted, heeling the horse into a trot. “I just watched you put an axe in a man’s skull. You think I’m fool enough to put you at my back?”
“I don’t have a weapon.” The motion of the horse as it sped into a swift canter drove me against him with each stride. “I think you’re safe.”