Chapter 64
Raye rushed down the tunnel with her heart pounding, her hands trailing along both its walls.
It was narrow and close, still smelling of dampness and fresh earth, and the mud and sharp rocks scraped against her fingers, jabbed up rough and slippery beneath her feet.
But it didn’t matter, nothing mattered but staying upright and moving faster, outrunning the fear and urgency clanging in her chest.
She was so close. So close. She would save her son. She would.
And the goddess was here. She had to be.
Because there still weren’t any shouts from behind Raye, and somehow the light from the opening had penetrated this far, enough that she could make out the uneven ground beneath her, and clamber over rocks and puddles.
And she could almost feel Svein up ahead, could almost smell him, could taste his nearness, please —
There. A faint glow of light. And Raye pushed ahead harder, faster, and yes, that was the trapdoor up into Svein’s room, its boards black and thick, streaming dusty rays of light between them. And Raye could only pray that the trapdoor wasn’t blocked somehow, that she could get through, please…
But when she shoved up against the heavy door — it opened. It opened, thank the goddess, and Raye scrambled up into the room. Into Svein’s small bedroom, both painfully familiar and startlingly foreign, with all his possessions gone, and the floor covered with muddy bootprints.
But Svein wasn’t here, and Raye burst out through the open door, frantically scanning the main room. A large fire was crackling in the fireplace, but Svein wasn’t here, he wasn’t here, had they made some horrible mistake, what if he’d run out to face the men, no —
But then — a sound. From the fireplace. Or rather, from the multiple high stacks of firewood Gaelfr had chopped, soon before they’d left. And when Raye reeled toward them, her heartbeat thundering, there —
There he was. Svein.
He was sitting tucked beneath the piles of wood, his knees pulled up, his messy head bowed, his hands clutching Mr. Snuggles tightly to his chest. But he was here, he was alive, and Raye let out a helpless sob as she rushed to crouch before him. “Svein,” she gasped. “Svein, love, you’re —”
Her voice broke, but Svein’s head snapped up, showing her his flushed, dirt-covered, tear-streaked face. His eyes blinking with obvious confusion, his nose snuffling as his nostrils flared, again and again.
“Mama?” he whispered, as his eyes widened with shock, and then relief. “Mama!”
He hurled himself forward, crashing straight into her arms, and Raye clutched him as close and tight as she could, burying her face into his hair.
Svein was here, he was alive, he was safe, and the relief and gratefulness swarmed through her entire body, streamed hot tears from her eyes. Svein was safe. Safe.
He was weeping in her arms too, his body feeling unusually cold and small against her, his claws digging sharp into her back. “I’m sorry, Mama,” he gasped, between sobs. “I’m so sorry I ran away. It took so long, and I was so alone, and so scared —”
His voice cracked into sobs again, heaving all through his body, and she squeezed him even tighter, pressed a fervent kiss to his hair. “It’s all right now, love,” she croaked. “You’re safe now. I promise.”
Svein sagged heavier against her, now fully weeping into her chest with wracking, heartbroken sobs, and Raye stroked his hair, his shuddering back, as more tears streaked down her face.
She’d almost lost him, almost lost her precious perfect son, but he was safe now, he had to be safe now, she would do anything, anything.
“But I had to run away, Mama,” Svein said, still gulping for breath against her, his body quivering all over. “I had to. Papa was going back to the bad lady, and she was going to take him away from us again!”
His voice rose into a helpless wail, while Raye squeezed him tighter, rocked him back and forth. “I — I know, love,” she managed. “I know it was scary. But your Papa Kalfr is very clever, and he’s being very careful, and we can trust that he knows how to handle —”
But Svein wrenched backwards, away from her, and his head shook back and forth as his hand scrabbled for his trouser pocket.
Plucking out something small and white — another folded piece of paper.
And when he drew it open, Raye’s breath caught, because it was — the portrait.
That first damning, devastating portrait, the one drawn by Daisy, and showing Kalfr looking so haggard and broken, with Sybil so proudly smiling beside him.
And how — how had Svein found this drawing? How long had he had this? The last time Raye had seen it had been — when? The first day they’d come to the byrgi, perhaps, when Kalfr and Gaelfr had fought. When Gaelfr had crumpled up the portrait, and thrown it across the room…
Raye’s eyes briefly closed, because she couldn’t remember any of them going back for it, had they?
And they all must have assumed that someone else had, or maybe that it had been conveniently lost or destroyed.
And meanwhile, Svein had found it, and he’d kept it all this time, surely wondering at it, and fearing for Kalfr — or even fearing that Kalfr would leave them and go back to this other woman so possessively touching him. Goddess damn it.
“But look, Mama,” came Svein’s strained voice, as he jabbed his claw at the paper. “Look!”
Raye obeyed, glancing down at the drawing — and she couldn’t hide her flinch, or the faint growl in her throat.
Because compared to the Kalfr she’d come to know again these past weeks — the Kalfr with the warm eyes, the easy grin, the lithe muscled body — this Kalfr looked even more wrong than before.
Haggard, sunken, gaunt, with all the life faded from his eyes, and replaced with dread. With grief.
And the longer Raye stared at it, the more she felt a strange, striking sympathy with Gaelfr, who’d taken one look at this drawing, and upended his entire life to rush home again. And who’d been desperately determined to help Kalfr, to heal him again. No matter the cost.
“Look, Mama,” Svein said again, more urgently this time.
Jabbing his claw not at the drawing of Kalfr, but of Sybil beside him, and Raye forced herself to look there, too.
Fighting down a wave of rebellious fury at the sight of this beautiful woman daring to touch her mate like that, daring to smile like that when he looked so wrong…
But that wasn’t what Svein was pointing at, either.
No, he was pointing at something else. Something on Kalfr’s other side, something blended into the background, something that just looked like part of Sybil’s sleeve, from where her other arm was around Kalfr’s back.
But the more Raye looked at it, peering closer, the more it looked like…
something sharp. Something pointed toward Kalfr’s side…
“It’s a knife, Mama,” Svein rasped, tapping his claw against it. “She’s going to kill him.”
Raye’s chest seized, and she bent to look closer, her heartbeat oddly skipping. That was a knife, wasn’t it? With its sharpened blade pointed toward Kalfr’s side? And how hadn’t she noticed it before? And surely Gaelfr hadn’t noticed it either, or he would have said, wouldn’t he?
But now that Raye was staring at it, it was so obvious as to be almost laughable. A clever trick from Daisy, perhaps, a secret message for whoever took the time to look closely.
“That’s — very observant of you, love,” Raye made herself say, with an attempt at a smile toward Svein’s face. “But it’s still — just a drawing. It’s not — real.”
But Svein’s head was shaking, the urgency streaking through his still-wet eyes. “But it’s still true, isn’t it?” he asked. “It still means Papa can’t trust her. She’ll pretend to be nice to him, and try to kill him. And now Papa Gaelfr, too!”
The foreboding reverberated through the air between them, broken by a distant sound that might have been a bark.
And Raye froze, glancing over her shoulder toward the door, while Svein staggered to his feet, and wiped at his nose.
“She was going to kill them today, Mama,” he choked.
“I had to try to help. Try to get them apart. And even if she caught me, it would still be all right, because soon you’ll have another son. A new son.”
A new son. Raye flinched all over, jerking to stare back at Svein. Had he just said — he surely didn’t mean —
But he nodded, trying to smile at her, despite the fresh tears dripping down his cheeks. “It’s all right, Mama,” he whispered. “You can have a new son, instead of me. As long as you’re safe.”
Safe. Safe. The room swayed around Raye, her stomach heaving, and she fought to gulp down air, to grip at Svein’s arms. “No, love,” she gasped. “I could never, ever replace you. We never could. You are so, so precious to me. The most thoughtful, generous, brave son in the realm.”
Svein blinked back at her, still sniffling, but that was surprise, and relief, flickering across his eyes.
And in another flailing movement, Raye yanked him close again, dragging in desperate breaths of his messy hair.
“I love you so much, Svein,” she croaked.
“I don’t know how I would survive, without you. ”
Svein sagged into her arms again, his own arms slowly curling around her neck, his breaths snuffling against her hair.
While Raye’s own breaths kept coming sharp and shallow, like she was being kicked in the gut over and over again.
Svein had really been trying to sacrifice himself for her, for Kalfr and Gaelfr.
He’d truly thought he was replaceable. He hadn’t…
trusted them. He hadn’t trusted her, all this time.
Goddess, it was so damned familiar, so brutally painful, another crushing, horrifying way Raye had failed. And how could she move forward from this, where did they go from here, and —
Another sound, closer this time. Another bark.
Enough to finally cut through the grief and the pain, jolting Raye upright.
Damn it, she needed to focus, to think. They were still being followed.
They were still in grave danger. They had no time, and why the hell had she allowed herself to forget that?
She needed to keep Svein safe. She needed him out of here, away from the men.
She needed to keep the men away from the tunnel’s exit. She needed to be brave…
“Mama,” Svein said, his voice small, his eyes searching her face. “Where’s Papa? And Papa Gaelfr?”
His nostrils began flaring again, sniffing with increasing urgency at the air, and Raye took a deep breath, drew a smile to her mouth.
“They’re — coming, love,” she replied. “And I need you to go meet them, all right? Papa Gaelfr’s even dug us that new tunnel, remember?
It goes out from your own bedroom tunnel, so you can go meet him, and be safe. ”
Svein’s eyes widened, and Raye smiled again, gave his shoulders a bracing squeeze. “Skirvir and Fengr are waiting for you, too,” she said thickly. “So you’ll go down and scent for them, run out to meet them, won’t you? While I just finish up a few things here?”
Svein nodded, distinct relief flaring in his eyes, and Raye gave him one more quick, tight hug, and sought to swallow the sob quivering in her throat.
She needed to do this. Needed to keep smiling, even as she nudged her beautiful son away toward his bedroom, watched him clutch Mr. Snuggles tighter as he went.
As if he trusted her again, and it was only more grief, more heartache, as she waited for him to close the door behind him, listened for the distinct thunk as the trapdoor closed…
It was just in time, because the barking had come closer, and with it, the distant sounds of voices and movement. The too-familiar sounds of trespassers on Raye’s property, marching straight toward her door, bringing loss and fear and death.
But she held herself still, braced and waiting, gripping her hand tightly at her sword hilt.
Even if she’d failed, yet again, she needed to do this.
She needed to do exactly what Svein had just done, what Kalfr had done, what Gaelfr had done.
What Skirvir and Fengr and perhaps every other Bautul in their band had done.
She would make the sacrifice. She would offer herself up, for the people she loved. For her family.
Because — these awful men knew someone was here. Even if they hadn’t seen Svein, they had still followed his scent. They would see the smoke from the chimney. And this time, surely, they would do whatever it took to get inside — and then, they would find the tunnel. They would find Svein.
So instead, Raye would be what they found. And she would do whatever the hell it took to keep them here, focused on her, for as long as possible, so Svein and the band could escape. She would be brave. She would keep trying, keep trusting the goddess, keep trusting herself.
Even so, her heartbeat thudded as she waited, as the clattering came closer, and closer. Until she could almost smell the wrongness in the air, choking her breath…
She flinched at the sound of the knock striking the door, a demanding urgent rap.
And then striking again, louder this time, while Raye gripped her sword tighter, held herself still.
No matter what was behind that door, she would do this.
She would drag this out as long as possible, and give Svein enough time to reach Skirvir and Fengr.
She would keep standing here until they broke down the door, or burned her to the ground…
“Kalfr?” came a voice, ringing light and musical through the air. “Kalfr, love, are you in there?”
Oh, fuck. It wasn’t the mercenaries. It wasn’t the men.
It was — Sybil.