Chapter 66
“So you killed a crow?” asks Ari.
“Yes, poor thing, it was barely recognizable.”
“Wrong place at the wrong time.”
I stifle a laugh at Ari’s nonchalant comment. I feel sorry for the animal now, but at the time, it felt destined. I felt no remorse in that moment—a little unsettling. The memory floods me. What I had thought. Blood for blood. My strange hunger… I shake my head to return to the present.
“Poor thing,” I whisper.
“You called me a crow once,” says Ari as he looks into the air. “A mangy crow, if I recall correctly.”
A snicker escapes me. I twirl a lock of my hair, watching the skald search for something. My belly is full. The air is warm. The furs are soft. And I get to watch this beautiful man without fear of being called wanton. Everything’s perfect.
“Maybe I did,” I say. “You remember the strangest details.”
“A lot of your words are hard to forget,” he says, turning to me. “What was it again? Oh yes—fuck you, your kin and your ancestors.”
He points at me, fury in his widened eyes. It takes me a second to realize he’s pretending to be me. My cheeks flush in embarrassment.
“I’m so bad. Forgive me, Ari.”
He laughs and waves his arm like my insults meant nothing.
“Don’t worry, Kilda the Wild, I can’t take half the things you say seriously,” he teases.
“You menace!”
He laughs as I continue my mock offense.
“You troll!”
I toss a small fur at him, one of the many adorning his chair. He catches it, giving me a wide grin.
“So, back to your thrust,” he says. “You need to practice aiming, right?”
“Oh, definitely.”
“I have a plan.”
“A plan? This I have to see.”
Ari grabs a knife, his arm flexes as he does. My eyes are a cat lapping the honeyed milk that is this man’s form. He leans the fur against the wall, leather facing us, and stabs the knife through it. He lets it go, leaving the fur hanging on the wall.
“If your plan is to decorate your barren walls,” I say, “it seems you could use a woman’s touch.”
“Surely I could use a woman’s touch,” he laughs. “But I’m not done yet.”
“I wonder what’s coming.”
He grabs a coal from the edge of the fire.
I consider warning him that he might burn himself, but decide against it.
He’s a big boy, and after all, he would just heal magically if he did.
He takes the coal and rubs it against the suspended leather, in the dead center.
This is his plan? To hang a fur on the wall and draw a dark circle on it?
What a strange man. I guess there’s some Jotnar logic behind it all.
“I don’t get it,” I say.
He taps the dark circle in the middle, smiling broadly.
“This is your target.”
It dawns on me. I thought the skald had gone mad, but it’s me being incredibly slow. A smile grows on my face. He wants me to practice. He wants me to grow. Ari can be rude. He can be cocky. But no one can say he isn’t supportive.
“Thank you,” I tweet like a little bird, “but, are you sure you want holes in your wall?”
We both laugh. My head tingles with a fuzzy sensation—companionship.
“Some planks are a small price to pay for your mastery,” he says.
“I can practice tomorrow, outside, so I don’t destroy everything you own.”
“Objects are objects. I want to see you do this. Come, come.”
He grabs a bone and tosses it on the floor, crushing it under his boot. I wince at his carelessness. Men. Filthy beasts. He scoops up the splinters and sits on the bed, leaning against the wall. A giant smile, almost childish, paints his face as he gestures for me to join him.
I raise an eyebrow.
“You scheming Jotnar,” I say slyly. “A simple trick to get a girl into your bed.”
“You’re a woman,” he says. “You said so yourself.”
“True but—”
“Besides, your mind jumps straight to your own fantasies. I’m hoping you hit the target.”
I giggle as I stand, screwing my face in mock disgust. Jumping on his bed, I scoot beside him. Our arms are pressed against each other, sending a shiver rippling through my body.
“My fantasies? With a bandit like you? Don’t make me laugh.”
“I’m a renowned skald,” he says. “And we have laughed a lot tonight.”
I smile at him. He smiles at me. Our faces are so close I could lean over and kiss him. The tantalizing scent of his body tickles my nose as birch crackles in the hearth.
“They know you as a skald, yes, but I know your little secret.”
“Which one?” he asks, making us both laugh.
“All of them, I hope. I know you have your eye on a ring.”
“Fair enough. You’re the only one who knows I’m a bandit.”
“And a Jotnar.”
“And a Jotnar, but let’s—”
“Maybe I’ll use it against you,” I say with a wicked smile.
He laughs.
“Wouldn’t surprise me. You are a little vixen.”
I gasp, slapping his arm.
“I am not!”
“Okay, okay, you’re a lynx. Here, let’s start.”
He places the splintered bone in my open palm.
“Lynx is better,” I mutter as I feel the splinters. “These might not ruin your wall after all.”
“Just don’t send them my way.”
“I can’t promise anything.”
He looks at my hand, excited to see my magic. How lucky I am, to have such a charming man cheering me on as I explore my talent.
I close my eyes, summoning the memory that anchors Odin’s Thrust. Strange—having him beside me while I use his killing of an innocent man to fuel my magic. I joke about him being a bandit, but I’m the one deceiving him. I’m the liar. A pout invades my face.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I… it’s just… I use a memory anchor to power the spell.”
“Experience to manifest effect. I have heard of it.”
I look up at him, unable to hide the surprise from my face.
“You have?”
“I’m a skald, remember?” he says with a wink. “So what’s wrong?”
“The memory anchor I use is… the moment you killed Njord.”
His eyes widen.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, I think he’ll be angry, but he only leans back and whispers.
“Fascinating.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Don’t be. I’m honored that I can inspire your craft. Why do you think it works as your anchor?”
“I don’t know, your power and precision, I guess.”
“I knew it,” he laughs. “You actually think I’m great!”
I slap his arm.
“Stop it, you cocky mangy bastard.”
“Jokes aside, Kilda, I am honored to be glorified before the gods by you.”
“Are you serious? You don’t mind?”
“Not at all, use me all you like.”
He grins, a classic Ari shit-toothed grin. Cocky bastard.
I place a single splinter in my palm and close my eyes. Now, with Ari’s support and acceptance, my mind relaxes. Ari’s form, his speed, his perfect strike. It all makes sense.
A whirr goes through my arm and a sound comes from the wall. I already know the spell worked. An image of Njord flickers through my head. An image of my betrayal. Opening my eyes, I see that the splinter has missed its mark. It missed the fur completely. At least none of us is dead.
“Woohoo!” shouts Ari, jumping up and surprising me.
He shakes both arms over his head, laughing his naked laugh as he approaches the bone splinter stuck in the bare wall.
“That is amazing, Kilda,” he says as he inspects it closer. “Fucking amazing.”
“What but… I missed.”
He approaches me quickly—his elated energy touches my own. My chest is lifted. Lifted beyond worries of botched duels. My heart is soaring.
“Stop beating yourself up,” he says, slapping my shoulder like he would a male friend. “That was great.”
“I still feel so clumsy with it.”
He kneels in front of me. His eyes flash like lightning, carrying a bright quality I have not seen in them before. Or in any eyes.
“Phenomenal,” he says.
“Please, it was a failure.”
He places a tender finger on my chest, between my breasts. I don’t flinch. His eyes stay locked to mine.
“The flame you have in here, Kilda.” He grabs my hands with passion. “Combined with the powers you have in these.”
I stare into his eyes, lost in the dazzling blue that seems to invite me into infinity. The fire crackles as I hold my breath. It feels like our hands are the center of Midgard.
“With that combination,” he whispers, “you can change the world.”