Filed to story: A Fate Inked In Blood Free
“Yes, my lord,” Geir gasped out.
I clawed at Bjorn’s arms, trying to get to my brother. Needing to help him. But Bjorn would not let me go.
Snorri met my gaze, eyes boring into mine. “You are a sought-after woman, shield maiden. With Steinunn’s songs, word of you will swiftly spread and everyone will seek to possess you. Many may seek to strike at those you care about to harm you.” He paused. “My men will watch over your family to ensure nothing…unfortunate should befall them.”
His words stole the breath from my chest, my stomach plummeting. It was no promise to protect my family-it was a threat to ensure my compliance. Given what he’d just done to Geir, there was no doubt in my mind that this man was capable of far worse if he was crossed, so I gave a tight nod of understanding.
No one moved. No one spoke, the only sound my brother’s ragged breaths of pain.
“I’ll be off, then,” Vragi announced, breaking the silence. Going to his horse, he swiftly mounted. “Wouldn’t want Geir to beat me to a meeting with Ingrid’s father.” His laugh was cruel.
My fury burned hot, and I screamed, “Don’t you dare! You leave her be!”
“Ingrid will make a fine wife,” Vragi answered with a chuckle.
To my right, Geir was crawling after Vragi. Was begging for someone to lend him a horse. My brother, begging. “You have what you want,” he cried. “You are rid of Freya, paid with gold, you do not need Ingrid!”
I would not stand for this.
Slamming my head back, I caught Bjorn hard in the chin and he dropped me. The second my feet hit the ground, I closed my fingers over the fiery handle of his axe, ripping it from his hand. Agony lanced up my arm as the flames licked over my skin, burning my flesh, and I screamed as I raised it over my head, fire kissing my cheek.
And then I threw the weapon.
It flipped end-over-end as it arced through the air, sparks trailing in its wake.
Embedding with a meaty thunk in the back of Vragi’s skull.
I stared at the burning axe in the back of my husband’s head. Watched as he slowly crumpled and slid off the side of the horse to land with a thud on the ground. Only then did the axe vanish, leaving behind blotches of brightness across my vision.
“You fool!” Snorri shouted.
Bjorn stared at me, eyes full of shock and horror. “What were you thinking?”
“He deserved it,” I whispered. Vragi’s hair was burning, the smell acrid. “He’s a greedy, traitorous bastard the world is better off without.”
Not is. Was.
“How could you let that happen, Bjorn?” Snorri snarled, lunging at his son before drawing up short. “How could you let her disarm you?”
“I didn’t think she’d do it.” Bjorn gave a rapid shake of his head. “No one has ever tried it. No one is mad enough to touch Tyr’s fire!”
It occurred to me then that they weren’t angry I’d murdered Vragi. They were angry that-
The pain struck.
Agony like nothing I’d ever experienced lanced up my arm and I looked down to see my wrist and the back of my hand red and blistered, only my palm and fingers seeming exempt from the pain. I started to turn my hand over, but Bjorn’s fingers locked on my elbow. “You don’t want to look.” He caught my chin with his other hand, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Looking will make it worse.”
His eyes were such a lovely shade of green, the lashes around them dark, and though the pain grew with each throbbing pulse, the thought that filled my head was that it wasn’t fair for a man to have such long lashes. “Is it bad?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
I swayed on my feet as he said to Snorri, “If you wish your shield maiden to keep her hand, we must return to Halsar so Liv can help her.”
Snorri cursed, then a frown split his brow. “It was foretold her name would be born in fire. I’d believed that meant Tyr’s fire was forcing her to reveal her gift, but that would have been an act of fear. Whereas this…” He paused, eyes growing bright with zealotry, “this is an act of bravery that will give Steinunn a song to be sung by skalds for generations. This is an act the gods will reward.”
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.”