CHAPTER FOUR #2
The jarl gave Hradi a stern stare, though Katrin suspected that was merely for Gunilla’s sake.
The sensation they shared doubts about the older Seeress took root.
While her natural inclination was to defend her mistress, Katrin couldn’t deny the feeling they were in the right to mistrust Gunilla’s intentions.
The very idea roused a worrisome guilt, bordering on a sense of betrayal.
She needed to find a quiet place where she could make an offering and try to communicate with the gods.
"Now, enjoy your meal and I will show you more of our village and where your skills may do us the most good." Thorfinn motioned toward the food heaped before them.
Katrin resumed her seat, her gaze darting across the table to the rest of Gunilla's young servants.
Several of them bore openly hostile expressions, while others looked quite pleased.
She was not unused to their envy; as Gunilla's apprentice, she knew others aspired to her position.
Did they see this as their chance to usurp her?
Oddly, she found herself almost wishing one of them would succeed.
Hradi leaned close to her ear. His warmth sent a flurry of tingles twirling in her gut and she reached for the flagon of ale in an attempt to calm them.
"I look forward to being alone with you."
She took a long drink, nearly draining the cup, before facing him. "Do not think you will take advantage of me. You are tasked with protecting me."
That disarming grin sent a rush of heat to her core. What in Hel's name did the man possess to leave her feeling weak in the knees and light in the head? Breathless and eager for something she couldn't quite name.
"I will protect you, have no doubt. You will be treated as the honored guest you are."
She didn't fully grasp the underlying meaning in his words, but that burst of warmth pounded once more between her legs.
Was it his voice, or his unspoken promise?
Or the memories of her dreams that seemed to float continuously among the maelstrom that had taken over her soul since they arrived in this village?
She tore her gaze from his, but found herself now looking at his hands.
Large powerful hands, with long strong fingers.
A flash of those hands on her naked skin set her heart to racing so hard, she feared it might break free of her chest. Another vision and another, and the now-familiar weakness spread through her.
Feeling as though she might faint again, she willed herself to remain upright.
A sudden hold on her arm drew her from the encroaching darkness.
Hradi's hand, his touch, this time renewed her stamina.
What did it mean? She raised her eyes to meet his concerned gaze.
"Are you unwell again?"
She shook her head, her voice trapped beneath the lump that had grown once more in her throat.
Looking at him sparked visions which left her weak and vulnerable; yet his actual touch seemed to strengthen her.
Once again, she found herself plotting to find a time away from everyone and everything else.
Fulfilling that task seemed impossible, at least for now.
"Eat." Hradi reached for a piece of flatbread and slathered it with dollops of soft cheese and fruit. He held it before her.
She hesitated before accepting the bread, forcing herself to hold his stare, unwilling to show him any weakness.
Despite the riot of questions continuing to grow with each second, she found herself confident in facing what was to come.
Did she dare admit the truth to herself, that being near him made her feel safe, even as she feared the depths of the passion her visions displayed?
No, not fear, not truly. A robust apprehension but tempered by a curiosity she'd not often experienced.
She finally looked away, taking the flatbread and biting into it.
The tart berries blended with the salty and creamy cheese and fortified her further, and she took another bite, hunger taking precedence over all else.
As more and more of the villagers entered the longhouse to enjoy the dagmál, the hall grew overpoweringly loud.
After having her fill, she realized she wanted to leave.
But she was not ready to depart for Hradi's farm. She turned to Gunilla.
"We must speak and pray together," Katrin said. "Do you agree?"
Gunilla nodded. "Yes, we must do so now. If I am not to see you after nattmál each day, we must plan carefully for the mornings."
"I will do my best to gather the necessary plants and animals for our offerings, but you must see the others do so as well. I have a feeling we will need a large supply to support our efforts in aiding this village."
How odd. The power between the women had somehow shifted.
For the first time, Katrin realized she must not give in to Gunilla’s demands.
It was her time to take charge of the situation.
Her spine straightened with newfound self-assurance, not afraid to take charge of the situation.
Even more strange was how easily Gunilla seemed to accept the difference.
Katrin did not know what to think of this peculiarity, though a frisson of delight speared through the tumult.
This feeling of authority, no matter how small, thrilled her, made her yearn for more.
Why? Another question to put before the gods. How would she remember them all?
She stood, taking Gunilla's hand and urging to the other woman to join her. Hradi's gaze locked on hers.
"We must make our plans before we… that is, before you and I…
" The uncertainty returned, though not as strong as before.
When he stood and stepped close, towering over her and forcing herself to tilt her head back to hold his stare, determination not to be cowed rose, stronger than ever. She straightened her shoulders.
A half-smile hovered on his lips, as if he knew just what conflicting thoughts tugged at her. She found her gaze drawn to the sight, but a deep breath controlled the urge to press her own mouth against his.
"Do what you must, I have matters to tend to as well. I will seek you out when it is time to depart."
For another moment, Hradi held her gaze.
Desire glowed in the dark depths. Heat whisked through her veins in response.
She ground her teeth together to subdue any indication of her rising interest. Finally, with a dismissive nod, he turned and strode to the rear of the longhouse, disappearing into the back rooms.
Giving in to the weakness in her knees, Katrin sank back into her seat, inhaling sharply after several heavy moments without breathing. With a few more gulps of air, she regained her composure and urged Gunilla to head for the small hut the jarl had provided.
***
After ensuring Katrin had left the longhouse, Hradi returned to the great hall and resumed his seat beside Kori. He huddled in close to his father and brother.
"The old witch doesn't like being away from Katrin."
Thorfinn shook his head. "There is something about her I cannot fully trust."
"More and more I feel as if I have seen her before," Kori said. "But I still cannot recall from where."
Hradi took a drink of ale and set is horn cup down. "What of the rumors you heard last summer?"
"No one else seems to recall more than a whisper or offhand comment made here or there. Nothing solid," Kori said. "Father, what do you recall?"
"Just as you did. Simply gossip that a witch had cast a spell on a clan and was able to command them in battle against another, apparently in some sort of vengeance. But no one knew the clans involved, or saw where these fierce battles took place."
"So they may not have happened at all?" Hradi asked.
Thorfinn shrugged. "Could be a bard's tale, regaled as real."
"But what if it is real? Isn't it better to be prepared rather than dismiss it completely?" countered Kori.
Hradi glanced at his brother. As he had many times in his life, he thanked the gods he was second born.
Kori had the skill for battle and intrigue.
He did not, nor did he have the desire for the role.
He fought as valiantly as any other warrior when necessary, but preferred to let Kori lead so he might tend to his other, more enjoyable work.
The jarl nodded. "Of course, we must be ready for any possible raid or attack. And we are. We must also seek to unmask our true enemies. Without proof, we must take care not to act rashly. We must let the gods guide us. We may benefit from the Volva's arrival."
"And if the gods choose not to?" Kori asked. "We cannot wait on their whims."
Hradi leaned back, folding his arms. While he may not have the skill in diplomacy, he enjoyed observing his father and brother debate their options.
"That may be true. Maybe the gods are telling us to welcome our visitors. What better way to uncover any treachery than to convince them we trust them implicitly?"
"I believe the young witch may hold the key to some of this," Kori said.
Jolted into the conversation, Hradi shook his head. "If she does, she is unaware."
"How can you be sure?" his brother asked.
"She is too… "
Kori chuckled. "Too what? Innocent? If you believe that, you are thinking with what's between your legs rather than what's between your ears!"
Hradi shoved his brother. "My head is telling me the girl does not intend us any harm."
"Perhaps," said Thorfinn. "But even if that is true, her mistress may."
"You need to find out, quickly. Don't let your lust get in the way. Use it, but do not let it weaken you," Kori warned.
"I can control myself. I will learn soon enough what she knows and if she plots against us with her mistress." Placing his hands on the table, he pushed himself up. "I have things to do."