Panic pulsed through me and I twisted, clawing and scratching, doing everything I could to get out from under him. He only caught hold of my wrists, pressing them against the rocks hard enough to bruise.
I slammed my knees into his stomach and was rewarded with a rush of bubbles, but his hold didn’t falter, his feet churning to hold us both down. Again, I tried to kick him, but I couldn’t get leverage. Couldn’t hit him hard enough to make him let me go.
Pressure grew inside my chest. My body jerked this way and that but I couldn’t get free. And I needed to breathe.
Hlin, I begged, help me!
Magic surged inside me, waiting for me to use it, but my wrists were pinned. Which meant my magic was useless. I was useless.
And I needed to breathe. Gods, I needed to breathe!
Light flared overhead. A cloud of warmth washed over my face. The hands holding me down went limp.
I kicked my legs, trying to get to the surface for precious air, but I collided with the dead man.
Which way was up?
Which way was air?
My vision dimmed as my chest spasmed, my mouth opening to suck in air that was not there and—
Hands closed around my arms, hauling me upward. My head broke the surface right as I sucked in what had nearly been the last breath I’d ever take.
“I told you to get back in the water, not light the whole cursed fleet on fire!”
I was in no position to argue, only to gulp breaths as Bjorn pulled me away from shore. Away from the brilliant glow of fire and the desperate shouts of Gnut’s warriors, who were tossing water on the flames.
“It’s working,” Bjorn said, the stubble of his chin brushing against my cheek. “They’re retreating to save the ships. Look.”
He was right. Warriors spilled out of Halsar, weapons sheathed in favor of buckets, the dozens of men working in frenzied unison to salvage the three ships we’d set ablaze.
Slowly, the flames faded to embers, but as the men stood with buckets in hand, a drumbeat filled the air.
From the darkness of the streets, Snorri and his warriors appeared. No longer scattered and disorganized and drunk, the men and women moved with shields locked in a wall that would be no easy task to breach. As one, they made their way to the beach before stopping. And waiting.
A massive man wearing a helmet started down the dock. He pulled his axe from his belt and my breath caught.
The battle wasn’t over.
Despite all the death and destruction, they were going to keep fighting.
I’m not worth it, I wanted to scream. I’m not worth all of this death!
Except instead of attacking, the big man shouted, “Keep your shield maiden, Snorri. But know that every man here will die before calling you lord.”
“Your deaths are already woven.” The certainty in the statement made me shiver, and Bjorn’s grip on me tightened for a heartbeat before relaxing as we watched the enemy turn their backs on Halsar.
It was over.
We’d won.
“Your first victory, Born-in-Fire,” Bjorn murmured.
Fighting back a grin, I started to swim to the beach, only for my muscles to seize up from the cold. I floundered, but Bjorn’s arm wrapped around me. “I’ve got you.”
Though every muscle in my body screamed, I managed to say, “And here I thought your only value was your good looks.”
“You keep telling me I’m good-looking,” he answered as he pulled me back toward the beach. “If you aren’t careful, I’m going to start to think your intentions toward me are less than honorable.”
“Don’t worry,” I mumbled as he hauled me onto the beach, rocks digging into my back as I looked up at him. “Your looks aren’t good enough to compensate for your tongue.”
In the faint light, I saw him smirk. “Don’t underestimate my tongue, Freya. Especially in the dark.”
Despite being near frozen to death, my cheeks burned hot. “You have no shame.”
“I am merely being honest, Born-in-Fire.”
The cold had clearly turned my wits to ice because I was left grasping for a retort. Annoyed that he’d gotten the last word, I tried to stand. Only for my legs to buckle.
Bjorn caught me before my knees hit the rocks, pulling me onto his lap.
“I’m freezing.”
“You’re fine.” Bjorn belied his words by pulling me against his warm chest. “Besides, you needed a bath. You reeked of pig shit.”
“Bjorn,” I muttered into his throat, “fuck you.”
He laughed, and I felt it where my breasts were pressed against his chest, only the thin fabric of my shift separating my skin from his. He was so cursedly warm, and I snuggled closer, wanting to drain the heat from him into my numb flesh.