Chapter 69
What a night…
Washing myself hasn’t removed the scent of our shared moments.
A bucket and rag are not enough. Only a good scrubbing in the river can purify me.
Not that I need to be purified. It was pure.
Freya blessed us. Every time Ari’s smell hits my nose, heated memories return. I wonder if he feels the same.
I pick dried herbs from the rafter beams, sorting the plants on the table as I smile like the biggest fool. Ari’s hearty breakfast still sits in my stomach. The man cooks better than Ausveig. Not that I would ever tell her that. I laugh.
Alone, by myself, I laugh.
Mint, chamomile, nettles, yarrow. Dried and crunchy. Ready for use. Scents blend in my tiny cabin. I inhale deeply, enjoying their calming fragrance.
The memory of using yarrow on Ari flashes in my mind. I smile at how silly I must have looked, mouth full of herbs as I stared down his stomach. That smug bastard didn’t even need my help, healed in a flash of frost.
A snort escapes me. Well done, Kilda. You spent a night with a troll. You are now part of the small group of women to have accepted a Jotnar into their body. At least I haven’t been eaten alive.
I shake my head in disbelief. All I have learned.
Yet even with the lightness of my mood, my mind drags up insecurities from the mud. It’s hard to suppress it. My lies. My future. My choices.
Ari doesn’t know about Njord. His innocence. Eidunn, such a fool, lying about such serious matters. If blood is on my hands, it has spattered on hers as well. I just pray Sigurd will forgive my insolence and let me keep my privileges. And my life.
A hammering on the door makes my heart jump. My pulse beats in my ear like a drum. A few seconds pass as I guess at who it could be. It’s not Ari. He would not knock this hard. It’s definitely not a woman. If men were coming to take me in for punishment, they would storm in, surely, not knock.
The door is hammered again. I step forward.
“Who… Who is it?” I call out.
“Vidar. I bring news.”
Fuck. It’s Vidar. News? What does that even mean? I open the door lest I seem distrustful.
“Good morning,” I tweet, forcing brightness.
No smile from him—just a brow furrowed with worry.
His massive form fills the doorway.
“Morning. You are summoned.”
“Summoned? By who?”
“My father, of course.”
His father. Of course.
“What does he want?” I ask, hoping for a hint. Surprisingly, a feral grin grows on Vidar’s face.
“He wants to talk to his slave, Kilda. I think he is worried, and that makes me worry for you.”
The word hits me like a punch to the gut. Slave. The word—a stone that sinks to the depths. I have no choice. I can be summoned, dismissed, honored or humiliated. I am Sigurd’s slave. He can summon me to fuck me if he wants.
He can fucking try.
A chill runs down my spine as I control my voice. I refuse to show Vidar my fear, and I’m not crazy enough to show him my anger. Inquisitive and interested, that’s the tone I’m going for.
“Worry for me? I talked to him yesterday. He said—”
“Kilda…”
Vidar steps forward, sending my system into high alert. I take a quick step back, crossing my arms over my chest.
He stops mid-stride, holding his smile. I blow out a long breath.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
He laughs—enjoying my discomfort. Vidar enters my house. Without being invited. I’m forced to move out of his way. He looks around him, keeping his smile. Teeth bared like a predator on the prowl.
My house? What a joke.
“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m with you, remember?”
That’s not what it feels like. It feels like he wants to show me where I belong. Under his heel. In his fucking dreams. A flame sputters in my chest. I imagine screaming at him to get the fuck out. Pulling him out by his stupid fucking braid.
He turns suddenly, his expression serious.
“I want to help you, Kilda, but I can’t protect you if you don’t play along.”
“Play along?”
“How long can the jarl tolerate your insolence? The slaves are uneasy after your whole scheme.”
“I was trying to—”
“You told me already.”
His eyes lock onto mine. The friendliness from just days ago is gone. The flirtatious demeanor has evaporated. This is who Vidar is, an extortionist. It feels like he’s hunting me. This must be what his enemies see before they are chopped apart in battle.
He shakes his head like a disappointed parent. Fingering a dried yarrow stalk from the table, he puts it against his nose and inhales.
“Listen, Kilda, just play along.”
“What do you mean play along?”
“You know.”
My temper flares. Enough of these games.
“No, I don’t. Speak your mind. Isn’t that what men do?”
He steps forward, towering above me. Questioning a warrior’s masculinity is never a good move.
“What do you know of men?” He laughs. “You know what they say about you and that ergi skald?”
Ergi? Ari? A submissive man? The skald? Saying that in front of Ari would lead to a duel. Njord was big like Vidar, yet we all saw how that went. He wants me to react, wants me to flare up. But I will stay in control. I hold my tongue.
“I enjoy your company,” he says. “But my patience wears thin.”
“I…”
My tongue dries in my mouth. My pulse hammers against my ribs. His looming mass swallows the space in my tiny house.
“Out with it,” Vidar presses, his voice low.
I swallow. Hard.
“I don’t want trouble.”
He tilts his head, amused.
“That’s the problem with you.”
A finger is placed under my chin. He uses it to raise my face to his.
“You think trouble comes to you, but you are its source.”
Vidar leans in slowly, deliberately. Claiming my private space as his. For a split second, my body and mind are locked in ice. Seriously? Is he trying to fucking kiss me?
Instinct kicks in. It’s not even a choice. I slap away his hand. His smile dies.
Silence. Tension that could snap like a twig.
Tears well up in my eyes, but I refuse to look away. To give him the victory of my submission. Fuck Vidar.
His nostrils flare.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “You forget who your allies are.”
“No,” I say, surprised at how steady my voice is. “I remember perfectly.”
His eyes sharpen as he raises himself to his full height. He tosses his head back in laughter. Not with kindness. With perverted pleasure. Like a man who can finally play the game he wants. Or maybe it’s forced, actually. He wants power. He wants to dominate me.
“There she is,” he says softly. “Kilda the Bull.”
“Just Kilda now.”
“Oh no, you still have the balls. Unlike that ergi shitbag.”
My shoulders stiffen at his insult. A part of me wants to lash out, lunge at him and scratch his eyes. That’s what he wants. To rattle me. I refuse to take the bait. Ari would kill him for the words.
Vidar moves toward the door. Turning his back. Relief floods my body. He could have attacked me. He stops.
“Play along, Kilda,” he says. “Be loyal. We could still be friends.”
He swings open the door. It smashes against the wall, pulling at its hinges. Like it’s his house. Like it’s all his.
“Good day,” I say coldly.
“My father is waiting,” he says as he steps out. “You’d best not make him wait any longer. Oh, and one more thing…”
He turns, showing me a smug smile.
“Wipe that defiance from your face before you enter the hall. Know your place.”
I stand. Finally, alone. His words linger in the room.
Know my place? I’ll show him my fucking place. With my boot on his fucking nose.
Vidar had been so charming, so friendly. Any girl’s dream. Yet it comes with a leash, a fence. A bull plows the field for the farmer. A beast of burden. Forced to perform tasks. I know what tasks Vidar would want from me.
A thought brushes my mind. This is how Vidar reacts when he doesn’t get what he wants. When he is denied my body.
Eidunn… Could it be? Could it be him? Why wouldn’t she tell me?
Snapping back to reality, I hurriedly fix my hair. Best to be presentable.
The jarl waits.
I step out, with my blue robe wrapped around me and my chin held high.
Kilda the beast of burden?
Fuck that.
Kilda the Wild.
I will not bend the knee to Vidar the fucking animal.
A warm wind messes up my hair again. Like I’m meant to be this way.
Kilda the Bull? Please.
Kilda the stomp her boot on your fucking face.
Leave you choking on your teeth.