Chapter thirty-one
Revna
“Release me, woman!”
Arne was awake and belligerent.
He had finally woken near dawn, blinking blearily at me as Kindra settled into a sleep for the first time that night.
“Where’m I?” He scowled suspiciously, looking me up and down. “Who’re you?”.
“You’re at an inn by the coast.” It shouldn’t have hurt so much that he didn’t recognize me. The man had never met me before. I took a deep breath and tried to adopt a gentle tone. “You were sick. Jorgen and Branka rescued you.”
I healed you, I wanted to add, but didn’t dare to.
“Jorgen?” Arne narrowed his eyes, trying to place the name. Once he had it, he nodded once and promptly turned on his side, the sheet sliding down to reveal a chiseled slope of muscular shoulder. “Then I thank you. Now leave.”
I had not left, obviously, and he had spent the last half hour making such a fuss that Jorgen had been forced to pin his arms while Branka sat on his legs lest he injure himself.
“I said release me! I need no night nursie watching over me! I’m a full grown man!”
“Acting like a baby,” I snapped, trying to get a spoon of broth down his throat. Kindra’s attachment was still very much present, but now I was annoyed. I had been up all night fretting over this man, and he had the audacity to dismiss me out of hand. “Either drink it yourself or stop struggling!”
“Stop being a damned menace, you old fool,” Jorgen growled, his eyes flashing to bronze slits. Sigurd had returned late in the night, and based on Branka’s blush when she told me, I didn’t want to know what they did to encourage his return. “We’re trying to help!”
“I don’t need any damned broth,” Arne roared. Jorgen gave me a look that said we maybe shouldn’t have bothered saving this man, and Branka yelped as he attempted to kick her off him again. “I need to get back to the castle. I need to get Ingrid.”
Ingrid? Kindra growled and sat up. Who is this Ingrid?
“The queen?” I clarified aloud, trying to soothe Kindra’s temper. She settled, but she still growled under her breath. “You need to save your sister?”
“Aye,” Arne stilled, looking at me as if for the first time. “The bastard locked her away, and I couldnae get her out alone. Not in this state.” Arne began to struggle again. “Now will ye let me go, she-devil?”
“There’s no way you can ride for three days back to Stormhold,” I said, trying to keep my voice even as Jorgen and Branka held him down. “It’s unfathomable you even made it out of the castle like this.”
“Aye, well, it’s not my first time being poisoned.
” Arne grumbled, staring daggers at Jorgen, who was still holding his arms. “Realized what happened when I started feeling poorly. Thought I got it all up. Must have been too late. Had to tie myself to my horse to keep from toppling off until that lad found me.”
He is strong. Kindra sounded far too pleased about this.
He’s insufferable. I shook my head, completely baffled by this man and his iron constitution. “Why are you out here? Why not stay at Stormhold?”
“I was going for backup.” He scowled, as if I were personally responsible for all of his problems. “At ?strheim.”
“That’s another five days’ ride,” Jorgen choked out.
“Aye, which is why I need to leave.” Arne struggled against Jorgen’s hold halfheartedly.
“Was there no one at Stormhold who might help you?” Branka asked, looking for all the world like a queen astride a noble mount, despite Arne’s kicking. “Your guards?”
“Didnae bring any guards.” Arne sat up a little taller, his legs stilling. “They’re protecting my people, which is why I need to go.”
He is honorable, Kindra crooned.
He’s an idiot, I corrected.
“Not until I say you’re fit,” I added aloud, making a second attempt at forcing some sustenance down his throat.
Arne eyed the spoon like I was trying to poison him. Again. “And who are you, exactly?”
“Only the woman who stayed up half the night making sure you didn’t die,” Branka said, her voice so indignant, I could have kissed her. “You should be thanking her and doing exactly what she says.”
“Branka.” I gave her a look that I hoped communicated not to tell Arne what we knew. “Don’t.”
Arne glowered at Branka, and then at me again, but his body remained still. “Fine. Ye can let go, I willnae struggle. Feed me the damned broth.”
Jorgen glanced at me before tentatively releasing Arne’s arms.
At a nod from me, Branka slid off the bed, twisting to crack her back with a wince. “Was that all really necessary?”
“No,” I said stiffly, tipping the spoon against Arne’s lips. He slurped down the broth loudly, glaring at me the entire time. “Someone insisted on acting like an ass.”
“I will eat this damned broth, and then I’ll be on my way,” Arne said, accepting another spoonful of the soup. A little spilled into his graying beard, and his eyes flashed in annoyance. “Agreed?”
“Not agreed,” I said, trying to make myself comfortable on the edge of the bed. It was too narrow, and it put me too close to Arne’s scent and heat.
Mine, Kindra growled.
Control yourself, you scaly harlot.
A harlot lies with many men, Kindra corrected. I just want the one.
Elysia’s fucking tits, I could not do this. Taking a deep breath, I held the bowl and spoon out to Arne. “Can you manage this, or do you still need my help?”
Arne snatched the bowl from my hand so quickly, half the soup splashed over the sheets. He ignored it, lifting the bowl to his lips and slurping down its contents in a single gulp.
It would have been horrifying to watch, if not for the bob of his throat. Kindra very much liked the bob of his throat.
Stop it, I hissed at her.
I merely look.
“There,” Arne growled, tossing the bowl and spoon to the floor, where they clattered under the bed. “Can I go now?”
“You were poisoned, Arne,” Jorgen said, pushing him back into the bed as he tried to rise. “Give it a rest.”
He struggled to rise again, but Jorgen held him fast. Sweat dotted his brow, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was in no shape to get back on a horse. He’d fall from his saddle within five minutes, let alone five days.
Stubborn man. Why in the name of the Hearthmother would he not have taken guards with him to Stormhold?
Sounds like you, Kindra said, her tone teasing. Did you not fly out onto the Odemark alone only days ago?
I ignored her and folded my arms across my chest. “Let him go, Jorgen.”
Both Jorgen and Arne looked at me in surprise. “What?”
“Let him go,” I repeated. “We’ll follow and retrieve him when he inevitably falls from his horse. He’ll be much easier to manage with two broken legs.”
Jorgen laughed, lifting his hands in surrender. “As fine a plan as any I suppose. Come on, love. I need my beauty rest if I’ve to go out rescuing belligerent jarls.”
Branka raised a brow at me as Jorgen escorted her out. “Bryndis says Baldur is also back. We’ll let him know that Arne will be fine.”
“Thank you.”
“You sure you have this?” Branka gestured to Arne, and I nodded. I could handle this. I’d kept Arik alive for two decades, after all. How much more difficult could his uncle be?
Incredibly difficult, it turned out. Arne was all the way down the hall after hurriedly dressing, casting wary looks at me the whole time as I remained unmoving in the chair beside his bed, when I heard the crash.
“Bugger it all to Helheim!”
I sighed, trying to rally my patience as I went to help him.
The innkeeper was already there, dodging Arne’s swinging hands as he tried to right himself.
“Goddess blasted fucking stairs!”
“Even less time than I thought,” I said, somewhat smugly. “Will you come back and lie down now, or will you continue until you break your neck?”
Arne grunted and swore profusely, but he allowed me and the innkeeper to help him back to the room we’d commandeered. He flopped onto the bed, and I noted that he had paled significantly. His shirt was already soaked with sweat.
“I suppose yer happy, then,” he grumbled, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Go on then, do yer worst.”
“No.”
He looked at me, his eyes narrowing. “What d’ye mean, ‘no’?”
“I mean you may ask me for my help, and I will gladly provide it,” I replied, looming over him. “Providing you ask nicely.”
Arne spluttered, and I held up a hand to stop him.
“I’m not sure you appreciate how close you were to death.
Or how hard I worked to keep you from Helheim’s shades.
But I am done. If you wish to go off and kill yourself, destroying all of my hard work in the process, go right ahead. I’m happy to watch.”
Kindra hissed. You would not.
Of course not. I rolled my eyes. But he doesn’t know that.
Arne gaped, and something flashed in his eyes that I would have thought was amusement if I didn’t know better. He closed his mouth, his lips forming a snarl. “Would ye please help me get back into bed, then?”
“With my name.” It was petty to insist, but I wanted to hear him say it, and Kindra was pacing with increasing irritation as the argument went on.
Arne blinked, his scowl deepening. “Ah dinnae ken yer name.”
“Then you should probably ask.”
I smiled to myself as Arne’s face took on every shade of color between red and purple before settling back on pale as a sheet.
“Fine. Oh please, will ye tell me yer name?”
He asked with a voice that was clearly intended to mock, but I refused to take the bait. “Revna.”
“Revna.” I shivered hearing my name on his lips, and Kindra purred in approval, but if Arne noticed, he blessedly said nothing.
He muttered to himself, and I was fairly certain I heard the words “presumptuous” and “busybody,” but he finally looked me straight in the eye and said, “Would ye please help me get back into bed, Revna?”
“Certainly.” I smiled as sweetly as I was able to with my stomach collapsing in relief as I helped him back under the sheets. His skin was cool and clammy as he draped an arm over my shoulder to steady himself, and I made a mental note to fetch another bowl of broth.
I will ask Bryndis, Kindra said before I could stop her.
Now who’s a busybody.
She sniffed haughtily, fading into the back of my mind as she turned her attention to the other dragon.
Once he was settled back in the bed with a groan and more curses than I’d ever heard one man make in my life, I made my proposal.
“We will take you to Stormhold,” I said, my heart thumping with anxiety at the idea. “The three of us. Three dragons are more than enough backup, and it will be easier to fly in and out than to ride, and I’m fairly certain the farm boy stole your horse, anyway.”
Arne blinked at me, as if not understanding. “What?”
I sighed irritably. “You will stay and rest for one more day, and then we will fly you back to Stormhold. It’s a single day’s flight. You’ll be saving at least a week of time, and you won’t have to kill yourself trying to get back to ?strheim.”
“Aye, I understood you,” Arne said warily. “But what’s in it for you three?”
I hesitated, trying to think of a convincing lie. “The Book.” I practically blurted it out, but it was the perfect cover. “We still need the Book of Chaos. Arik wants us to try to get it.”
“They didnae get the book?” Arne closed his eyes, letting his head drop to his pillow. “It was a fucking trap.”
“Probably.” We had no idea how the king had known what Eisa and Branka were up to, but it seemed more than likely. “So you get your sister, we get the Book, and then we leave.”
“And go where?” Arne’s face had taken on a grayish pallor, and I went to the sideboard to fetch a damp cloth. The water was tepid, but it couldn’t hurt.
Arne grabbed my wrist with surprising strength as I leaned over him with the cloth. My whole arm prickled when his fingers met my skin, but he didn’t seem to notice. “What in the name of all the gods’ great backsides are ye doing?”
I almost laughed, despite my disappointment. Could he be my mate—future mate—if he didn’t feel the connection that Kindra clearly did? I shook off the thought. “Putting a damp cloth on your forehead. To stave off fever.”
Arne grunted, but acquiesced. My wrist felt cold as he released his grip.
“And to answer your question, wherever you like. We could fly you and Queen Ingrid back to ?strheim. It would take maybe three days. Four at most. But it would be far faster than the king’s men can travel, and you’d have time to bolster your defenses.”
And I’d return to Ironholm. The thought was sobering.
On the one hand, Kindra balked at the idea of leaving this man—of not bringing him to Ironholm and hoarding him like treasure for ten years, or whenever the Rift next opened.
But I barely knew him, and there was no way I could ask him to do such a thing without telling him the truth.
Arne looked at me, his gaze piercing and emerald green like the forests in the spring.
My favorite color, Kindra crooned.
You have to stop.
But irritating you is so fun.
I had to try very hard not to mentally strangle her. Check in with Asger. Make sure Viggo’s reirhold is returning to Ironholm. And check as see if Ingmar made it back safely.
Kindra snorted indignantly, but she didn’t argue.
“Fine,” Arne said finally, his gaze unwavering. “Bring me a dagger.” I raised a brow, and he growled irritably. “For a blood bargain.”
“You must be joking.” Blood bargains were a fairy tale. A story told to scare children away from making promises they didn’t intend to keep.
“Ye’ll do it or there’ll be no bargain between us, she-devil.”
I sighed and unsheathed the dagger at my thigh, handing it to him hilt-first. I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to let Arne have a win. Perhaps superstitions were stronger in the east.
Wordlessly, Arne drew a line over his palm, blood beading to the surface in red droplets. It smelled like him–forests and the tang of iron—and I was glad Kindra was busy with her messages as he held out the dagger to me. “Now you.”
I did the same, cutting my own palm with the other side of the dagger. I wiped the blade on my leggings, a small part of me reveling in having a way to keep Arne’s scent with me.
Gods, mates were so insufferable.
“Now, we shake,” he instructed, holding out his hand.
I clasped his palm, our blood mingling as we shook on the agreement. A buzz of something heady seemed to flow from where our palms touched, and I pulled back my hand in surprise, the cut already healing. “What was that?”
“I felt nothing.” Arne’s face was studiously blank. “Now what?”
I frowned suspiciously, but didn’t push. “Would you like me to bind that?”
I nodded at where his palm still oozed blood, and he turned a fraction more pale.
“Fine.”
I waited, one eyebrow raised in challenge.
“Please bind my wound,“ he ground out, holding his palm upright so as not to drip blood on the sheets. A vein in his temple throbbed as I continued to wait. He rolled his eyes and growled out, “Revna.”
I was still laughing when Branka knocked on the door. “You wanted more broth?”
Arne groaned and pulled the sheet firmly over his head.