Chapter twenty
Eisa
It was raining heavily and almost dawn by the time we knocked on the door of the bakery, and I was certain I did not look even remotely drage-like.
I was wearing Jorgen’s shirt and Arik’s boots and jacket, my bare legs stark white as I shivered in the rain and tried my best not to vomit from the effects of the shift.
“Come on, open up,” Arik grumbled, his temper wearing unusually thin.
The cut above his brow was the fresh pink of a new scar, but he looked exhausted. Haunted.
My instinct was to go to our mental bridge, and I nearly recoiled against Baldur’s absence. It felt like a gaping chasm—a wall of solid stone between our minds. Idunn was pounding at it unceasingly as if she could force her mate back into consciousness.
“We can try somewhere else.” I raised my hand to Arik’s arm and gripped his bicep. I was too tired to physically restrain him, and Arik seemed to sense my exhaustion despite Baldur’s absence.
He sighed heavily and pulled me into him, keeping me upright as we sheltered beneath the door frame.
“I’m sorry, Kjaere.” His words were barely more than a murmur against my temple, and I could hear the self-loathing in them even if I couldn’t feel it. “It’s my fucking fault we’re stuck like this.”
I shook my head, shivering as water—or possibly blood, I was too wet and tired to tell—dripped down the end of my nose. “Not your fault. You didn’t fail to retrieve the Book.”
I had been racking my brain the entire flight trying to figure out what had gone wrong.
How Branka and I had been discovered with seemingly so little difficulty.
The skalds must have suspected us from the get-go, which is likely what led to Arik and Jorgen’s capture, although the mistletoe poisoning was a treachery none of us had anticipated.
We should have anticipated it.
The Book wasn’t right, Idunn insisted.
You keep saying that, I sighed, but you have yet to tell me why.
I am unsure. I just know.
Arik frowned. “You didn’t—“
The door banged open, and a young man with scraggly blonde hair and blue eyes peered out.
His beard was patchy in places, as if he were trying to grow it out for the first time, and his face ran a gamut of emotions so quickly it was hard to keep up.
Fury at being roused. Terror at seeing Arik’s scowl and pointed ears. And then confusion mixed with…relief?
“Eisa!” Without warning, his arms were around my neck in a hug so fierce he would have knocked me backward into the mud if not for Arik’s firm hand on my back.
“Anders?” He was only a few months older, but he was taller somehow. More muscular. His voice was lower. The scrawny, blonde boy I grew up with had been replaced by this…this man. I clutched him tighter. “Holy gods, Anders!”
“Mormor said you would come back.” His voice was suddenly smaller as he held me, as if the emotion were too much for him. “But I didn’t really believe her.”
“You should always believe Mormor.” I pushed out of Anders’ arms with some difficulty, wiping the tears from my eyes with an extremely wet sleeve. “Where is she?”
“Any chance we can take this inside?” Arik’s voice was gentle, but his hand on my back was firm and urgent.
Anders paled and nodded, his wide blue eyes trained on my mate as Arik pushed me forward and into the warmth of the bakery.
My stomach growled loudly as the scent of warm bread hit me.
I smell food. Idunn had perked up, her distress over Baldur tempered by the promise of a meal. I am so hungry.
Soon, dearest, I promised, placing a hand over my belly as nausea warred with hunger. The flight had been a glorious reprieve, but I was still on my cycle, which added to my physical misery. I’m not sure I can keep anything down.
You must. I am hungry.
She was so matter-of-fact about it, I had to stifle a chuckle despite my discomfort.
“Tell me everything, Eisa.” Anders blue eyes were wide with awe and excitement, as well as a little wariness of Arik. “What color is your dragon? Does he breathe fire? Have you learned to fight? Why is your nose bleeding?”
“She,” I corrected, wiping my nose absently as Anders took a breath amid his stream of questions. “And I—“
“Anders, what—“ A huge man dressed in a flour-covered apron appeared in the door on one side of the bakery, a rolling pin held tightly in one hand. He stopped short as he saw us, opened his mouth once, and closed it again.
“We’re not open yet—“ A woman appeared next to the man, also covered in flour. Her face paled as she took us in.
A tall boy appeared beside her, perhaps a year older than Anders, his eyes widening with surprise.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Anders said, raising his hands as his face flushed pink.
Arik arched his brow as if to ask what it did look like.
The woman recovered from her surprise far faster than her husband and gave the older boy a push behind her. “Go fetch some blankets, Leif.” The boy nodded and retreated as the woman turned to her husband. “And you. Fetch a loaf of bread from the ovens.”
“But Hilde…” The man looked stunned, his eyes fixed firmly on Arik’s pointed ears and tattooed scalp. “The D-drage…”
“Stein!” Hilde hissed and gave him a shove toward the kitchen as the older boy returned and handed her a single blanket.
Hilde rolled her eyes at the boy, then turned and offered us a stilted curtsy. “Apologies for my husband’s rudeness.”
“Thank you,” I said, giving Hilde what I hoped was a disarming smile as she handed me the blanket. It was threadbare and mended in several places, but I wrapped it around my shoulders, grateful for any amount of warmth. “I’m sorry for our intrusion.”
She nodded, wringing her hands together as she stepped in front of her son. “Leif is only seventeen. And Anders is sixteen.”
I frowned. I knew that Anders was sixteen, and I had no idea what her son had to do with anything.
“We are not here for Dragejakt.” Arik placed his hands on my upper arms, the heat from his body chasing the chill that lingered beneath the blanket. “Just for shelter. Your ward was kind enough to invite us in.”
Hilde shot Anders a piercing look as if she didn’t quite believe Arik’s story.
“The drage are always welcome, of course.” Her voice held a hollow, rehearsed quality, and I swallowed my sigh. I had feared the drage once upon a time, and it was jarring to be on the other side of that. “How long will you be staying?”
She looked intensely hopeful that it wouldn’t be long.
“Until nightfall.” Arik replied. “We will of course make sure that you are properly compensated.”
I glanced up at him, wondering how he planned to pay these people when we had only three coppers.
Hilde looked equally skeptical, but nodded. “I can make up beds for you in the attic. It isn’t much, but it will be warm and dry.”
“Thank you. If you can spare them, some dry clothes for my wife would also be appreciated.” Arik squeezed my waist as if to warn me not to argue about the title.
The urge to speak mind to mind was so intense, I could almost scream with frustration.
Anders’ eyes blew wide, but Hilde nodded tightly, giving him a nudge toward the kitchen. “Anders. Go help Stein with the food.”
He nodded, looking dazed, a thousand questions in his eyes.
Hilde followed. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wife?” I murmured as we were left alone in the dark bakery.
Arik shrugged, his posture relaxing a fraction. “I didn’t think ‘mate’ would be received well.” He rubbed my shoulders, warming me beneath the blanket as he pressed a chaste kiss to my brow. “And I rather like the sound of it.”
I felt myself blush, realizing that, for once, he couldn’t sense the pounding of my heart at the idea. I reached up, grazing my fingers against his temple. “Nothing yet?”
He shook his head once, his jaw tight. “Just silence. It’s…” he hesitated for a moment, then shook his head again. “Unsettling.”
“How long—“ I cut myself off as Hilde returned, and I cursed inwardly. It felt like an age since either of us had been able to finish a damned thought.
“I’m not sure these will fit,” she said, offering me a folded pile of clothing.
Her voice was still tight, but she seemed less terrified than when we had first appeared.
“But take whatever you like. They were my daughter’s, but she’s gone to live with her husband’s family and won’t be needing them. ”
“Thank you.” I took the pile, trying to hold them away from my body so they wouldn’t get damp. Hopefully there was something I could use for my cycle, even if none of the clothes fit.
She turned her eyes to Arik, her gaze wary. “Anders says it was you who freed him and Sigrid from that awful man.”
He nodded. “It was.”
“Then you have my gratitude. He is as much a son to us now as our Leif.”
I felt something tight in me loosen. It gave me comfort to know that Anders had found another family to care for him.
Hilde turned back to the stairs. “I’ll get the attic ready.”
She was gone before I could ask about Sigrid.
“I’m sure Sigrid’s fine,” Arik murmured against my ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with my damp clothing.
“How is it possible that you can hear my thoughts without Baldur?” I had meant the comment in jest, but something shuttered behind Arik’s eyes.
He gave me a tight smile that I knew meant he didn’t want to talk about it, tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear. “Because I know you, Kjaere.”
I wanted to wrap this man in my arms and soothe his aching heart, but Anders chose that moment to reappear.
“I think Stein is too terrified to come out here again.” He placed a loaf of warm, crusty bread on the nearest table, along with a hunk of cheese and a jar of jam.
“It’s not much, but I hope it helps. And the attic is small, but it’s warm.
Not as warm as the kitchens, of course. I sleep in there with Leif.
” His cheeks pinked at the mention of the bakers’ son, and Arik gave me a knowing look.
“Is there a washroom, Anders?” I asked, gesturing to the pile of clothing in my arms.
He nodded and pointed toward the kitchens. “Through there. There’s a privy and a washbasin and—“
“Thank you. I’ll be back.” I made my escape as he began to babble. The boy was nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet, and I knew he was working up the courage to ask Arik an annoying number of questions.
The thought made me smile.
The kitchen smelled of bread, and even my twisted stomach rumbled at the aroma.
A tray of loaves cooled on the counter, and it looked like more were baking in the ovens.
Another staircase led to the second floor, and I supposed this was where Hilde and Stein had disappeared.
They were fairly well-to-do by the looks of the bakery, and I gave silent thanks to Revna for finding this place.
It was gloriously warm in front of the ovens, and I spent a moment just basking in the heat as I looked around for any sign of Sigrid.
Maybe she slept upstairs?
It is only the family upstairs. How Idunn knew this, I had no idea. But she spoke it with such certainty I knew she must be telling the truth. I can feel their heartbeats.
Another drage power? I stripped off Jorgen’s wet shirt and hung it in front of the ovens to dry, then headed to the washroom. That would have been useful when we were trying to steal the Book.
There was too much other noise in the castle, Idunn grumbled, affronted by my implied criticism.
It’s all right, dearest. It wasn’t your fault. I knew it must have been my ineptitude at spycraft that gave us away.
We will try again.
I nodded. I hadn’t had time to talk to Arik about the fact that the Book had felt somehow wrong to Idunn. Add it to the list of many things we had to discuss.
A small stack of linen rags was piled neatly beneath the sink in the washroom, and I said a prayer of thanks to the Hearthmother, hoping Hilde wouldn’t mind if I took a few.
She had given me a linen serk and a wool overdress similar in style to the ones worn by the servants in Stormhold. The overdress was a touch too loose in the bust, but it would keep me warm and covered, and it was far nicer than anything I’d ever owned at Henrik’s.
The pain is back, Idunn growled as I donned a pair of worn leather slippers. They were a touch too tight, but Arik would have more need of his boots than I if we were flying any time soon.
Yes. It will be for a few days, I suspect. At least it wasn’t a crippling pain anymore. I could handle the sharp ache, especially if shifting gave me some reprieve. I supposed if I had to suffer through a cycle from time to time, at least the worst was over quickly.
Human bodies are so inefficient, Idunn grumbled. Feed me now.
When I returned to the main room, feeling dry for the first time in almost a day, I found Arik and Anders sitting across from each other, the loaf of bread between them, and a long-suffering expression on Arik’s face.
“And when you shift, what happens to your organs? Do they get bigger to match the dragon, or are dragons just sort of hollow?”
Arik cast me a pleading look as Anders continued to rattle off his questions, and I thought it prudent to intervene and rescue my mate. “Anders, where is Sigrid?”
“Sigrid?” Anders’ eyes widened, and he looked nervously between me and Arik.
“Mormor,” I clarified. “You know, the woman who helped raise you? We need to talk to her.”
“Oh.” Anders fidgeted with the hem of his tunic just like he used to do when he was trying to hide a broken glass from Henrik. “I’m sorry, Eisa.” His big blue eyes met mine, and I felt my heart sink. “Sigrid’s gone.”