Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-seven
Night was falling. The warm light of the sun dimmed above the treetops, giving way to the long shadows of dusk.
They crept between the trees, pooling beneath ferns and wrapping around the narrow game trail the riders followed.
Eadlyn craned her neck for the hundredth time, scanning the forest behind her, willing Aevar to appear.
To hear the pounding of hooves. To see the flash of a sword raised in fury.
But the path remained empty and quiet. Only the thud of the horse beneath her, and the soft jingle of tack from the others.
Her hands, bound at the wrists with rough rope, ached from the pressure.
The cord bit into her skin with every jostling movement, and her arms had gone half-numb.
Sweat clung to the hollow of her back, but it cooled now in the evening air, sending shivers through her body.
Lord, please bring rescue.
She had whispered the same plea so many times it had worn thin.
It continued to beat in her heart, tethering her to hope, but with every fading glimmer of daylight, hopelessness sank deeper.
What if they didn’t find her? The forest was vast, and her captors had made careful efforts to hide their trail, doubling back, crossing creeks, and weaving through thickets and rocky plateaus.
She glanced to her left where Sig rode beside her, slouched comfortably in the saddle and unbothered by the weight of the day.
But his attention had been on her all afternoon.
Measuring her. Waiting. She turned away, bile rising in her throat.
Her whole body tensed with the certainty that the moment they stopped, he would make his move.
She looked to her right for an escape, but found only thick, tangled brush. Nowhere to run. Even if her hands were free and she had control of the horse’s reins, she’d crash headlong into roots and undergrowth.
All too soon, the woman—Asfrid, she had learned—drew to a halt. They had reached a patch of open earth beneath a cluster of firs where the ground sloped toward a stream. The canopy above hung like a thick curtain, blotting out most of the sun’s last light.
She turned to them, tall and broad-shouldered for a woman. Clearly a warrior like Heida. She addressed Sig and the other man, Dagr, in Nordric. “We should camp here tonight.”
Eadlyn’s heart pounded harder. The moment she’d been dreading. Sig dismounted first. She braced herself, but a tremble ran through her limbs as he stalked toward her. His hand clamped around her arm and yanked her from the saddle. She hit the ground unsteadily, and he pinned her against him.
“Aevar’s not around to interrupt this time.” His sour breath hit her in the face.
Panic surged. She struggled, and he laughed, but she wouldn’t make this easy for him. The moment he leaned in, she spat in his face.
For a moment, everything froze. Then pain cracked across her cheek. His open palm slapped her so hard she stumbled. Tears sprang up, but she blinked them back and straightened. She’d been hit harder before. She locked eyes with him. No pleading or fear. Just fire.
His brows twitched, something unreadable in his expression.
No doubt he’d expected her to cower and cry and beg for mercy.
Wanted it. But she refused to give him that.
His expression hardened to match hers. He reached for her again, but another hand seized her arm first and wrenched her backward.
Eadlyn stumbled again, catching herself as Asfrid dragged her away from Sig’s grasp.
The painted warrior woman’s expression was like stone, her black-marked face unreadable.
Sig snarled. “What are you doing?”
Asfrid didn’t even flinch. “My job is to deliver her to Kalgora. Not watch you toy with her.”
“I can do whatever I want.”
“That was not part of your uncle’s orders.”
Sig stepped toward her, puffed with self-importance. “I am his heir. You will do as I command.” He leered now. “Or I’ll take what I want from both of you.”
From somewhere behind Eadlyn, Dagr swore. “That’s my sister you’re talking to.”
He was beside Asfrid in a breath, his face flinty.
Sig sneered. “Then maybe you should teach her to obey.”
Eadlyn held her breath as they glared at each other. Would Asfrid and her brother decide it wasn’t worth it and let Sig have her? Would they bow to his position and stand aside to let him do whatever he pleased?
Asfrid didn’t move. She didn’t even raise her voice.
“We were commanded to take her north. That is what we are doing. If you want our help to communicate with the Kalgorans when we get there, you will keep your hands off. Otherwise, we walk away. You can travel with your sword and your title. I’m sure the Kalgorans will welcome you with open arms.”
They continued to stare at each other in an intense, silent battle of wills.
Sig broke first.
With a muttered curse, he stormed into the trees, a string of angry threats and obscenities trailing behind him. Eadlyn couldn’t help praying he’d meet a bear. Or something worse.
Now that he was gone, the heaviness of the encounter and the information she’d learned descended. They were taking her to Kalgora. The thought of that left her legs wobbly, but it did give Aevar time to find her if Asfrid kept Sig at bay.
The woman dragged her over to a tree and sat her down none-too-gently. While Asfrid seemed happy to protect her from Sig, they were far from friends. Even so, Eadlyn caught her eye and murmured, “Thank you.”
She stuck to Aerlish. Even if Asfrid didn’t understand the words, the meaning was clear. The woman paused before turning toward the horses. Dagr joined her, glancing first at Eadlyn and then into the trees where Sig had disappeared.
“You’re playing with fire.”
Asfrid tugged at the straps of a rolled-up blanket and sheepskin on her saddle. “I won’t stand by and watch that pig assault a bound woman. We’re delivering her. That’s all.”
Dagr followed as she walked back over to a spot near Eadlyn and laid out the bedding. “He’ll have you punished when we return to Ormvik. He won’t let it go.”
“I don’t intend to give him the chance. We will do as ordered and disappear. I’m tired of being treated like a stray dog. We are not Staegar’s thralls just because Móthir was. We should have left Ormvik a long time ago.”
“You don’t think Staegar will come after us?”
“He’s got bigger things on his mind. As long as we deliver the princess, he’ll forget about us. Sig can whine all he wants, but he needs us.”
That ended the discussion. Dagr grunted and laid out his own bedding beside his sister’s. Eadlyn looked at the horse she’d ridden. No blanket. No comforts.
Sig returned eventually, prowling the edge of the camp.
As darkness fell in full, they shared provisions.
Asfrid gave Eadlyn only a handful of berries.
Though she wasn’t hungry, Eadlyn needed her strength and tipped the berries into her mouth.
To her dismay, no one started a fire. It would have made finding her easier in the dark.
Not long after they ate, they decided the watch order.
Dagr went first, and Asfrid settled down on her bedroll, while Sig lay down several feet away.
With a tight cramp in her middle, Eadlyn curled up, the grass damp beneath her cheek, and stones biting into her hip.
She tried not to think. Thinking hurt. But she ached for Aevar’s arms around her, holding her close.
She fought to push it down, to stay strong, but a tear rolled over the bridge of her nose.
She bit her lip hard as pain swelled, forcing more tears to rise, and prayed for rescue. '
Eadlyn jolted awake with a gasp. Cool, damp air filled her lungs, and the forest greeted her with a heavy silence cloaked in predawn shadows.
She blinked, trying to shake the fog of half-sleep.
For a fleeting moment, she had believed she was home.
Safe. But no soft bed or tender arms cradled her now.
Only cold earth, aching bones, and the ropes that still bit into her wrists.
It wasn’t a dream.
She was still a captive.
A rustle made her flinch. Asfrid knelt, rolling her blankets and securing the straps.
Nearby, Dagr moved through the gloom, brushing pine needles off his cloak and cinching saddles.
A few feet away, Sig still lay sprawled on the ground and snored like a beast, far too comfortable for someone so cruel.
Eadlyn’s whole body ached. Her back was sore from the hours in the saddle the day before, and her hips throbbed from sleeping on knotted roots and uneven stones. But worse than anything was the hollow space in her chest. An ache carved by fear and longing.
Asfrid stood, brushed her hands on her trousers, and walked toward her.
Without a word, she gripped Eadlyn’s arm and tugged her to her feet.
Her fingers were firm, not unkind, but gave no room for resistance.
Eadlyn followed, her legs unsteady beneath her as they moved deeper into the forest. A cool breeze swept through the trees, stirring the underbrush.
They stopped near a fallen tree, its trunk stripped bare and damp with dew.
Asfrid said nothing, but the implication was clear enough.
She was giving Eadlyn the chance to relieve herself away from the men.
Eadlyn should be grateful, but all it did was remind her of the first night with Aevar on the journey to Fjellheim.
How frightening it had been. So much had changed.
This was the first time they’d been apart since they’d married.
Unlike Aevar, Asfrid didn’t give her the courtesy of walking away or even turning her back, though she didn’t seem inclined to watch. Instead, she swept the trees like she expected Aevar to come tearing through them any moment. Eadlyn begged God that he would.