Chapter 10
10
FRIDA
“ T hank you for a lovely night,” I said, almost prancing along the road that led back to Rune’s cottage. I wondered if I might be slurring my words a bit, then found I didn’t really mind if I was. A warm sense of contentment seemed to swirl through me. I didn’t know if it was from the ale, the music, or the many lovely people I’d met this night. Perhaps it was all of it combined.
“Glad you enjoyed it,” he said gruffly.
I cast him a sideways glance. “Did you ?”
“Unexpectedly, yes. It’s been a long time since I…spent so long out on a Freyasday evening.”
“Ha. I see right through you, Rune,” I said, poking him in the arm. Wow, it was hard as a rock. Even his muscles had muscles. “You don’t need to pretend you go there every week. I know you only went tonight because you wanted to take me.”
He grunted but made no attempt to rebuke my claim. Anything else he’d planned to say was interrupted by the sudden crash of thunder. The wind had picked up, dusting dirt against my legs and tugging leaves off the branches of the trees. I tipped back my head to gaze up at the sky, and an impenetrable darkness stared back at me.
Rune suddenly gripped my arm. “We need to move quickly. A storm’s coming.”
My heart leapt at the panic in his voice. “If it starts raining, will it hurt your skin?”
“Oh yes. But that’s not what I’m worried about.”
A harsh wind suddenly gusted into us, and Rune tugged me into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, as if to protect me from the onslaught of the storm. His warmth and strength consumed me, and the scent of wood shavings filled my head, making me feel a bit dumbstruck for a moment. I swallowed, my face still pressed into his chest. I should really move away…
“Come on,” he said, urging me down the path. He didn’t release me, and I didn’t pull away.
“You’re scaring me, Rune,” I eventually said.
“Good. The Elding is nothing to trifle with.”
“The Elding?” I asked, alarmed. “I thought that was nothing more than a folktale. A myth meant to keep people away from the Isles.”
“Oh, it’s no myth. It’s as real as the sun on your face in the morning. And you don’t want to be outside when it hits. The wind is strong enough to fell trees, even those redwoods.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I got caught out in it once, and I’ll never make that mistake again. As you can imagine, it nearly killed me.”
I fell silent, my heart pounding angrily in my chest. The Elding was a storm of legend. Some believed the magic of the islands had conjured it as a way to protect its inhabitants from those who meant them harm. Others believed it was a punishment from the Old Gods, toward those who had turned their backs on their ways. I’d always just thought it was a fairy tale.
Apparently not.
By the time we’d made it back to the cottage, the wind had picked up considerably. We reached Rune’s front door just as the rain began to pour and another crash of thunder tore through the sky. The droplets pelted against him—and me—but despite the agony he must feel, Rune made no sound. He threw open the door and motioned me inside first.
I stumbled into the safe haven of his cottage. Rune thundered in behind me and slammed the door shut. A moment later, he lowered a heavy latch over the wood. Wind rattled the door against its hinges, and the rain roared, as fierce and deadly as a dragon.
Rune grabbed the darkened oil lamp hanging beside the door. After lighting the wick, he swept the lamp from side to side, illuminating the interior of his cottage. With a pitiful meow, his cat raced across the floor, climbed up his leg, and launched into the crook of his elbow. With another meow, she buried her face in his arm. Her little body trembled, black hair flying everywhere.
“There you are. It’s all right, Moira,” he said, gently scratching the feline beneath the chin.
My heart thundered as I stared at him. Red welts decorated his throat and arms, but the largest hissed angrily on his right cheek. He barely seemed to notice, too focused on worrying over his cat.
“You’re hurt,” I said.
Rune looked up, his brow pinched. Then his eyes drifted to his arms, like he was only just noticing the wounds. “This is nothing compared to how bad they get sometimes. Besides, I’ve got some healing salve for them. They’ll be gone within a couple of days.”
But instead of going for his salve, Rune hung the oil lamp on the wall and went into the corner behind the dining table. He rustled around in the cupboards before extracting a bowl, adding some milk to it, and placing it on the floor for his cat.
Moira stayed where she was. When he tried to encourage her toward the bowl, she hissed at him.
“You damn cat,” he murmured, affection coating every word.
“Where do you keep it?” I asked, still standing slightly useless in the middle of the cottage.
He frowned over at me. “Where do I keep what?”
“Your salve ,” I said. “For your wounds?”
“It’s in my bedroom.” He turned his attention back to his cat once more. “But worry about that later. You’re soaking wet. Get changed into some dry clothes before you catch a cold.”
I opened my mouth to argue with him. His wounds were a vicious shade of red. And while my clothes were damp, so were his. The longer he waited to change, the more likely the water would seep through his tunic and cause more welts to form.
But with the way he looked at his cat, I knew he’d do nothing until she’d calmed down.
Shaking my head, I padded into my room and quickly changed into the only other comfortable clothes I’d packed. It was an almost-identical ensemble to the one I already wore. When I returned to the main room, Moira still hadn’t budged. She’d even latched her claws in his shirt. Rune spoke to her in a quiet, steady voice. As distracted as he was, he didn’t notice when I crossed the room and pushed through the only other door.
The dim light from the oil lamp barely stretched this far, so I left the door open when I inched into Rune’s bedroom. The scent of him pulsed against my senses, a heady mixture of wood shavings, smoke, and leather. My heart began to pound. Casting my gaze around the small room, I found a bed—much like the one in the guest room—and a side table overflowing with a teetering stack of books.
The only other piece of furniture was a chest of drawers, clearly handmade like all the other wooden structures inside this house. Dozens of carved dragon figurines perched on top. Some were painted in vibrant shades of oranges and golds, while others had been left untouched. Just beside them sat a stack of small metal tins.
I cast a quick glance out the door. From here, I couldn’t see him, so I had no idea if he was coming. He could appear in the doorway at any moment. The urge to rifle through his drawers was nearly overwhelming, but I tamped down the urge. Instead, I picked up a few of the dragon statues, turned them over in my hand, and examined every whittled curve of them. Rune must have a dragon. Why else would he carve statue after statue of this one particular creature? There were no other figurines in his room. No wolves or horses. No cats.
Just dragons.
That had to mean something.
Heavy footsteps thundered across the floor of the main room. I dropped the figurine, snatched the nearest tin, and bustled over to the doorway just as Rune reached it himself. He scowled down at me, then looked over my shoulder at his bedroom. His gaze immediately swung to his chest of drawers, right where the dragon figurines watched us from the shadows.
“What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom?” he growled, his lips curling around his tusks.
I held up the tin, smiling tightly. “Getting your salve for you. I’m guessing it’s in here?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t mind you staying at my house, but you can’t just barge into my room anytime you like.”
“I’d hardly call it barging .”
“Just don’t go in there. All right?”
“Sure.” I skirted past him, somehow managing to squeeze past his body. The cat was on the floor now, eagerly lapping up the milk Rune had set out for her. The image of Rune fussing over her came rushing back. The gentle way he’d held her, calming down her terror of the storm. It tugged at my heartstrings and made me wish I could just ask him about the dragon. No more traps. No more games. I so badly wanted to get everything out on the table, so we could somehow move on from here.
So, Rune, where’s that dragon of yours, and do you mind if I borrow it for a little while? Don’t worry. I’m not here to assassinate you. And even if I was, you’re far too kind for a head-chopping!
I sighed. If only it could be as easy as that.
If only my family were a part of something like…the Cheese Guild. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about stealing something, let alone facing the first time I had to shoot an arrow into someone’s head. We could just sit around the dinner table, tasting all manner of cheese from around the world. And that guild would never enforce any vows of celibacy or demand their members give up Silva Sweetwater novels.
“Frida? Everything all right?” Rune came up behind me. I realized I’d been standing dumbly in the middle of his cottage for a moment longer than what might be considered normal.
“Yes, hi.” Pasting on a bright smile, I spun toward him. “We need to sort out your wounds. Sit.”
“Let me get the fire going.” He stepped around me, moving toward the hearth.
“Rune,” I said. “You’re wounded . Please let me help you.”
He grunted. “Just let me start the fire, and then you can fuss over the welts all you like.”
“I’m not fussing,” I said. Assassins and thieves didn’t fuss. And if they did, they certainly didn’t do so over their marks. Sighing, I shook my head at myself. This was such a mess.
Still, I waited while he lit the fire. After a few moments, flames roared in the hearth, casting a soothing heat through the room. Rune stood and lumbered over to the chair. When he sat heavily on its frame, he looked up at me expectantly.
“Go on then,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, kneeling before him. “You act like I’m being unreasonable when all I’m trying to do is help you. You must be in pain.”
“When you’ve dealt with these things as long as I have, you get used to it.” His gaze met mine, and the tension around his eyes softened. “But I do appreciate what you’re doing. I normally just let them fester, which makes them stick around a long time.”
“So they do hurt,” I said, spinning the lid off the tin.
He shifted uneasily on the chair. “A bit.”
I took that to mean they stung like scorpions. He just didn’t want to admit it, least of all to someone he thought was here to take something from him. Fair enough. Gently, I spread my fingers across the dark green salve, and the scent of brine, mud, and crushed leaves filled the air. After I had a good glob of it, I leaned forward and gently brushed it across one of the welts on his neck.
Rune flinched, hissing between his clenched teeth.
I stilled, then sat back on my heels. “Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.”
“It only stings when you first touch it. That one’s starting to feel better already.” He gave me a nod. “Keep going.”
I leaned back in. Up close, his skin was such a soft shade of moss, illuminated by the glow of the hearth-fire. His face was only inches from mine, and my eyes were caught for a moment on his full lips and the glint of the tusks that curved in each corner of them. The tips were deadly sharp, and if he wanted, he could easily ensnare me with one.
My pulse thrummed in my neck, and I turned my attention to the next welt. With timid fingers, I dabbed more salve onto the wound. He didn’t make a noise this time, though his cheeks twitched, as if he were clenching his jaw as tightly as possible.
Carefully, I covered each welt with more of the salve until I’d tended to every one. Rune loosed a long, rattling sigh when I put the cap back on the tin. He eased into his chair and closed his eyes.
“Thank you for that,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” I went to stand, but he grabbed my hand. His touch was gentle, yet firm.
“I mean it, Frida. You didn’t have to do this. I appreciate that you did.”
Heat consumed my face. “It’s not that big of a deal. You would have done the same for me.”
“Hmm. You tired?”
“Very,” I said. “Actually, I think I’ll try to get some sleep now, unless there’s anything else you need.”
He shook his head. “Night, Frida. Get some rest.”
I started to walk away, but the rocking chair suddenly creaked, putting a halt to my steps. Rune’s heavy footsteps soon sounded.
“Wait,” he said. “Take this.”
I turned to find Rune by his bookshelves. He searched the array of books, then pulled a leather-bound tome from the highest shelf.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s no Silva Sweetwater, but I think you might like it.” A small smile danced across his lips. “It’s a romance novel.”
“ You have a romance novel?”
“I’ve got a couple. Granted, I didn’t know what they were when I bought them.” He held it out to me. “Want to have it?”
My heart swelled. A smile stretched across my lips as I dashed across the room, took the book, and held it against my chest. I hadn’t read a book in well over a year, thanks to my new position in the guild. Reading one here was still against the rules, of course, but…they’d never have to know.
“Thank you, Rune,” I breathed. “Genuinely, you have no idea what this means to me.”
He swallowed and looked away. “Hmm. Well, you’re welcome. Now go on. I’m pretty tired myself.”
I took that as my cue to get out of his hair. We’d spent every moment of the day together. He was likely sick of my company by now. Fine with me. I had a novel to read. A novel . With romance and adventure and hopefully a bit of spice.
Grinning, I minced across the floor to my bedroom door. When I reached it, I cast another glance over my shoulder. Rune still stood by his shelves, staring after me. The hearth-light danced across his features and highlighted his broad shoulders, the powerful flex of his arms, and the endless brown of his eyes.
And if I was being honest—which I definitely wasn’t going to be—I might admit that he looked an awful lot like a romance novel hero himself.