Chapter 6
SHAW
The unmistakable whiff of Aslaug was on her clothes. I should have been shocked when I looked over down the archery range and saw the woman from this morning with a magnificent draw on a bow sized for a man. But shock is useless when much of life is determined by fate.
Her aim needed the smallest amount of assurance after seeing me jostled her nerves.
A piece of my soul stirred back to life watching her.
She looked taken aback that I would concede my win.
Kissing her hand gave me the opportunity to seize an errant piece of hazel fur on her cuff, confirming my thoughts.
She saved Aslaug and had a good enough heart to bring her medicine this morning.
One drink with Harald after the archery competition and the bastard told me where her room was. He also made no mention of the lynx or knowing anything about why Bjorn attacked me. I am sure it was Bjorn. His face might have been covered in the forest, but his sneer in the Feast Hall gave him away.
Since I am the one who taught the blacksmiths how to make the locks, breaking into her room proved easy. What I didn’t expect was for her to take her clothes off without realizing I am sitting in the corner of her room by the fire.
“Rasha,” I softly call her name, forcing myself to stop watching the most beautiful woman peel her clothes off her luscious breasts in the sanctity of her own space.
“What the fuck!” she shrieks and grabs a seizable knife off her night table. Choosing to not care about her partial nudity, she comes at me. My mouth runs dry with the same mixture of self preservation and utter desire from this morning.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had Aslaug?” I stand, bringing my hands to a defensive position. Her anger changes to confusion in a heartbeat as she looks down at the sleeping lynx.
“Who?”
I jut an elbow to the curled up feline, and Rasha’s piercing blue eyes stare back at me while she tries to put it together.
“Aslaug is the lynx. She’s my cat.”
“Well, then you should be thanking me.” She twirls the knife over her knuckles and backs away to get a dry dress, turning her back to me.
I am left standing like a hooked fish with my mouth open.
Her spine is milky white with several raised scars, one following the curve of her ribs to where her breast falls. I shut my eyes completely.
“Shaw, you broke into my room,” she firmly reminds me.
“You lied,” I bite out and let one of my eyelids flutter open to see her toss her leggings off from underneath a dress that fully covers her. My knee aches as I sit, stretching out in the chair opposite her bed.
“How was I supposed to know the cat is yours and has a name? For that matter, why did you leave her to die?” She hurls the insult, and I am wounded.
She is right. I didn’t go back out last night to look for Aslaug.
My gaze falls to the floor where the hazel and white, speckled, furry beast sleeps off her fever.
“Can I explain?” I don’t spend time with women. There is nothing good that will come from getting involved with someone I cannot spend my whole life with. But with the way this huntress is looking at me, I wouldn’t mind spending one night pretending my life is not predetermined by the gods.
“Go on,” she says and proceeds to hang her wet clothes near the fire.
“I was attacked on my way to the gate. I told Aslaug to stay home, but she is a cat, obviously not a normal one as you can see. She must have followed me, despite my instructions. She saved my life when the attackers got the upperhand, and I told her to run. Harald’s men will not be kind to her if she is discovered.
” I explain my story, letting the familiar level of disappointment and guilt seep from my bones into my heart where I welcome what I deserve.
I left Aslaug to die. Maybe that is why the great cat chose a new partner?
Have I learned nothing in the long years I have lived alone?
Rasha takes a settling breath, and I look at her perched on the bed, wondering how much I can trust a woman who’s been brought here to marry the Jarl.
“I am sorry. I heard the fighting.”
“You did?”
“It was after I lit the Yule log. I went as close to the gate as I could, and Aslaug, as you call her, threw her wounded self at me. Joanna and I brought her up here and no one else saw.”
“Joanna knows too? The woman who shot with you today?” My nervous energy builds, and I stand.
“Joanna is my second and would never tell. Like I said, when I saw you this morning, Aslaug had a fever from the wounds she should stay and heal. But what I don’t understand,” she pauses and quietly comes around to the other side of the bed where I am.
Needing to stand where the icy breeze comes through the uneven slats in the new windows, I wait for her to finish her question.
“I don’t understand why you’re healed.” She reaches for the fading bruise on my jaw, and I wish I had grown a beard for this moment.
“Siggy is a good medicine woman,” I answer, but I can see the dissatisfaction in her high cheekbones. My gaze falls to her lips, barely parted and glossy pink, as she touches the edge of my jaw.
“I didn’t see you when you were first brought in, so maybe you are telling me the truth.” Rasha’s voice strains against another thought I don’t have to be a god to understand.
“You cannot tell anyone else. Joanna is already one person too many. I am not beneath ending a life if I am betrayed,” I threaten. Her face falls, and she leaves the shared space, taking her sweet scent with her.
“I would never tell Harald about such a lovely creature. But you owe me now.”
“Maybe we can help each other?”
“I already saved her.”
“Yes, but like you said, she’ll need to stay here until she’s healed, and with Harald trying to get in between these sheets, how long will I be able to trust you?” I ask, realizing I am passing judgement too soon.
“I don’t care for Harald. Give me a little credit?” she answers, shivering from the fresh snow hitting her windowpane. Prompting me to add two more logs to the fire, I step over Aslaug as the lazy cat stretches out to show me her bandaged side.
“I owe you, so you name it. But in the meantime, Bjorn took something from me. I need it back, and I need to know if Harald has it or has seen it,” I explain.
Rubbing my hands through the cat’s thick fur, I am surprised at how frail her body is.
Years ago, I thought of her as immortal as Freya herself.
“That is a tall ask,” Rasha mutters, pacing around her room in bare feet as her plain, dark-green dress drags against the floorboards. “Bjorn is unpredictable from my short time knowing him. Why would he steal something from you when Harald could have asked?”
“Maybe Harald asked once, and I lied.”
“That doesn’t sound hypothetical. Also, if you want us to work together, you can’t assume I am going to run and tell Harald.” Standing at the foot of her bed, she wraps her arms around herself.
“I have omitted many parts of my life to Harald because he will not act in the Vikings’ best interest if he knows the things I know.”
“Which are? How am I supposed to find what Bjorn took if I don’t know what it is used for?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, and don’t end up alone with Bjorn under any circumstances.
If you hear him talking about a map to the mountain pass, come and get me.
Alright?” I cannot stress enough that she doesn’t need to put herself in danger.
Rasha leans back on her bed, a multitude of scenarios running through my mind, ranging from delicate to downright wicked.
I need to resist the urge to satisfy her in a way that none of the men here ever will.
“Tell me what it is you need the most?” Hopefully it is a task I can see through easily, and then we can find a safe exit for Aslaug.
“I need Skadi’s bow,” she whispers across the quiet space. My muscles tense against my clothes, too hot for a blacksmith who’s used to smoldering temperatures. The bow? How could she know about the one thing I have been searching for over an eternity for?
“You don’t know that exists.” I slowly gauge how much she knows and search for what the gods have already laid out for her.
“It must. Why else would Harald be so keen on keeping women from hunting and refuse to give women in his clan any freedom. There must be merit to the ballad, or it would mean nothing to celebrate her. The King will force us to give up our land. I can take whoever wants to come with me to the mountains to live with the reindeer if I have the bow.”
“You’re ambitious,” is all I can muster.
Gathering her long, red hair, she lays it against her chest and combs out the ends.
“Give me something that is not impossible to achieve. The bow is not real, Rasha. It’s a fool’s promise.
” The lie is for her own good. Aslaug’s soul catching stare makes it harder for me to continue.
“There has to be a way to know for sure. A lynx this size came from the gods. There are stories and ballads of them sending animal guides to our Mortal Realm. Once, the reindeer provided meat and hides for warmth and milk to our children. There must be a way for us to live with them again,” she persists, despite being flustered.
“After the Divination feast, we can search the fjord for her burial place if it pleases you. It will be nothing but a collection of stones long forgotten. But I should go now before someone discovers I am in the Maiden’s room.”
“I hate that title,” she says, pushing off the bed and going to the door.
“By the way you handled yourself today, I’d say you earned it.” I try to give her hope, even though her path to Harald seems set.
“I saved my virginity for the gods, not for a man to squander.” Her admission settles in my perpetual guilt. If she only knew gods squander what they hold most dear too.
“They haven’t forsaken you. That I can promise. Be careful with her,” I say in parting. She checks to make sure the hallway is clear, and I give Aslaug a good head scratch before leaving.
The door shuts, and I wait till she turns the lock before pulling the hood over my head and leaving the stronghold. Her scent left my coat smelling like sweet evergreen and fresh arousal. Her fucking, full lips and determined, blue eyes will be impossible to forget.
Back in the forge, I light the kiln to keep the room warm and the irons hot.
Giving the resident blacksmiths a break for the days of Yule wasn’t only a nice thing to do, but I prefer to be alone.
Reaching for the honeyed wine I hid under the cot, I let the thick, warm liquid settle me from the inside.
My cock is hard, sitting useless in my trousers.
Am I truly contemplating that she could be who I think?
Taking a deep swig from the bottle, I lay down and pray for sleep.
Rest overtakes me along with snow and sleet.
Waking up in the middle of the night to a blast of icy wind and snow piling around the doors, I race to pull the walls closed around the forge so the kiln doesn’t lose its flame.
My hands are frozen as I bring in all the wood I should have brought in earlier and stack it by the table to keep dry.
The storm howls, rattling the walls as sneaky snowflakes pour through the loose cracks in the wood. Can’t a man have any peace in this life? Adding another layer of clothes to my tunic and trousers, I put my coat on and walk out into winter’s fury.
The sun will not be up for another few hours, and in the frigid layers of falling snow, I won’t have to worry about anyone following me. Thinking about Rasha, hopefully sound asleep with Aslaug high above me, I trudge away from the stronghold toward the fjord.
Watching Rasha with the bow, not just her beautiful form with the arrow, but how she defended herself and her people, I know why I am here.
I wish the stars gave me another task in redemption.
After seeing what her clan, her own flesh and blood has done to her, it doesn’t seem fair to put her through another trial.
The gods are never wrong, and to bring a virgin huntress here, during this solstice, is not a coincidence.