Chapter 64
Idon’t know how long it’s been since I felt so clean. So fresh.
A bit of pampering never hurts. I seem to forget that.
Now I feel like a well-tended babe, washed by its loving mother.
Every nook and cranny of my body has been wiped and scrubbed, then wiped again.
My braid is tight, scented with rosemary water.
I would rival the daughters of kings, with their servants and stone castles.
Ari will notice. Even he can’t be so blind.
Peeking out of my door, there is no one in sight. No judging eyes. No whispering lips. The perfect moment. I step out, clutching my leather gourd filled with mint and honey-flavored water. The lightest rain drizzles down. I barely feel it—just my robe sticking to my body.
I walk proudly, no sneaking. My business is… official. Yes, I am performing my duty as a Volva, checking if my patient’s wound has healed properly. Of course. I simply didn’t have the time before the sun had set and hearths had been lit.
I snicker at my own thoughts. Ylvin would approve—surprising a man at his house after dark. I learned from the best. My heart is warmed as I arrive at Ari’s door.
I knock gently, trying for a seductive sound, whatever that means.
“Enter,” I hear through the door.
Stepping into his house, I hold myself straight, aiming for elegant. He turns from his lit hearth. A smile invades his face. His eyes stay locked to mine.
“Kilda,” he says.
“Ari,” I reply.
“You look beautiful.”
Ari steps forward, looking me up and down.
“Oh my, you’re drenched,” he says. “Please, please dry off by the fire.”
I had barely noticed the rain, too caught up in my thoughts and shady manners. Glancing down my body, I notice—with horror—my robe has bonded with my skin, transparent. My nipples show through the fabric, and my belly button beyond. I can’t imagine how it looks below.
I burst into laughter. Ari is surprised.
“Freya’s tits,” I howl. “You can see mine! I’m sorry…”
He laughs with me.
“Not the worst thing I’ve experienced.” He takes my hand, pulling me to the fire. “Come sit.”
He leads me to a chair padded with deer furs. It’s deep and comfortable. It smells like Ari—strong, masculine. My body relaxes as I sink in, stifling a giggle after my poorly executed entrance. Of all times to forget adjusting my dress.
The lightness of the moment shatters—a flash of reflection. The weight of the secret I am keeping from him. Njord’s innocence. I shake my head to regain control of my mind.
“Have you eaten?” he asks.
“Haven’t had the time. But I brought us drinks.”
“Wonderful.” He places my gourd on the table. “But you must eat.”
He places a long-handled frying pan over the fire, then scoops a large dollop of fat from a jar with his fingers. He slaps it into the pan. It starts to sizzle as Ari tosses in a few cloves of unpeeled garlic.
“Unpeeled?” I ask, intently watching the man work.
“Oh yes. Adds the flavor, but keeps them whole to eat with the meat.”
“I thought you only ate at the longhouse?”
“Mostly, I said.”
True. He did say mostly. The skald lays a stub of fresh parsley in the simmering fat, followed by a pinch of dried thyme. This man never ceases to impress me. He cooks like the gods will eat it—even if it’s just me.
“You add herbs,” I say. “But you haven’t put the meat in yet.”
“Correct, dear Kilda.” He smiles, pausing. “The spice will add its flavor to the fat, when the meat is cooked in it—”
“It will gain the taste,” I finish his sentence, fascinated.
“Exactly.”
He plucks a large slab of meat from the table. I’d missed it coming in—distracted by my visible nipples.
“Elk,” he says with a proud grin.
“Where did you get that?” Surprise lifts my voice. Elk is everywhere, but everybody wants it. Everybody wants to eat the king of the forest.
“I thought you might come by.”
He ignores my question, laying the meat flat on a board and sprinkling salt on top. The smell of garlic and herbs fills the room, making my mouth water.
“That smell,” I whisper, collapsing in the chair.
“Garlic, perhaps nature’s greatest gift to man.”
“Even greater than our mind?” I tease. “Aren’t you a skald? A keeper of myth and memory?”
He laughs.
“I’m sure our mind was offered to us so we could understand that garlic can be eaten with meat. The wolf, he just wolfs it down.”
“Some men do too,” I say.
“That they do.”
Ari lays the meat in the pan, keeping an eye on it, not daring to leave it in case it burns. It sizzles furiously. He turns briefly.
“So, did you practice Seidr?”
“I did. I practiced Thrust.”
“And?”
“And I will show you, if you let me.”
“It would be an honor,” he says with a grin. “But first, we eat. I’ve understood that magic costs a lot of energy.”
“That it does,” I nod. “I was going to eat the rest of the cheese but then I decided to visit you instead.”
He turns to me—blue eyes bright with joy. I don’t think I’ve seen him like this. A warmth swells in my chest as I realize I’m happy too. He flips the meat before he speaks.
“I’m happy you came.”
“So am I. I’ve never had such treatment before. I feel like a queen or princess.”
Ari laughs, keeping his focus. The smell of frying meat washes over me, flooding my mouth.
Warmed by the fire, with the sound of rain above us, my mind wanders.
This must be the goal—safety and comfort.
Bathed in these sensory pleasures, I can only imagine what sharing a life with a man like Ari would be like.
But what will happen when I tell him the truth about Njord? Will he want to see me again? Ever?
He points inside the pan and flips the meat.
“Look here, Kilda,” he says, stroking my knee.
I lean forward—heated by his touch. I follow his finger as he runs it along the seared elk.
“See this dark brown?”
“Yes.”
“That’s enough—that’s the flavor, right there.”
“What?”
“You remember the stew? When we browned the meat?”
“I do.”
“With meat cut thin like this, sear it quickly on both sides until it has this color. Then it’s ready. Perfect.”
“Well…” I lie back in the chair, swallowed by Ari’s furs. “When we go on adventures, I’ll let you do the cooking.”
He turns to me with a sly smile.
“Are we going on adventures?”
I hesitate for a split second, but can’t help myself.
“Maybe,” I tease.
He laughs and flips the meat from the pan onto a large wooden board. Rain drums on the roof. I sink deeper into the chair as I watch him.
“I look forward to it,” he says.
He finds a knife and cuts thin slices—still sizzling hot—releasing an odor that makes my eyes roll back. I had no idea I was this hungry.
“Smells so good.” My voice comes out deeper than intended. Almost a growl.
“Looks perfect too,” he says, stabbing a slice and holding it up for me to see.
It’s glistening pink in the middle, with a thin layer of brown around the edges. Juices dribble down from it, pooling on the cutting board.
“But, is it ready?”
“Oh yes, it’s perfect.”
“But it’s… pink. Raw.”
“No,” he says, chopping off a small piece and eating it. “It’s just right. Here, taste.”
He cuts a piece, stabs it with the knife and holds it out to me. It’s steaming. I can smell it from here. I take it between my fingers, feeling its soft texture that gives way to light pressure.
“Are you sure?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Eat, woman!” he insists with a laugh, watching intently. He’s eager for me to taste his magic.
I place it in my mouth and instantly collapse backward in delight.
The meat just melts. I don’t even have to chew.
The garlic is prominent without dominating the senses, and the thyme and parsley shine through.
The sear tastes like eating fire. The pink flesh carries a hint of forest leaves—what the elk consumes.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper.
He slams his hand on the table with a grin.
“Yes!” he exclaims. “Now, what did you bring to drink?”
“Honeyed mint-water.”
“How lavish! Today, we eat and drink like the gods in Asgard.”
Ari takes out two cups. I just have to lie in these furs while the man tends to my every need.
He spoils me like a child. I greedily eye his body as he opens my gourd.
His powerful profile—trimmed beard lying over his cleft chin, solid as rock.
The muscles of his neck connect to broad shoulders, the wings of his frame holding up muscular arms. I guess Jotnar blood is good blood.
He passes me a cup of my own concoction. Our fingers brush, sending a tingling torrent up my arm and down my spine. A touch can do more than words. He holds up his cup to me.
“To your magic,” he says with a grin.
“And to yours. I’ll show you my Thrust after dinner,” I reply, returning the grin.
I smack my drink into his. We raise our hands, cheering, and empty them together. I have mastered Thrust. My powers are growing. With others, I am either a slave or a Volva. Beneath or above. With Ari, we are shoulder to shoulder.
We are equals.
What a perfect moment to share.
This will be a good night.