19. Bryn
Bryn
A coolness brushed against my thrumming forehead and consciousness crept up on me like an arctic fox stalking a lemming through the snow.
Everything hurt. From the heels of my feet to the tips of my ears.
It was as if I’d been thrown against a cliffside by a rogue wave.
With the smallest of movements, I cracked my eyes open a smidgen.
Dull candlelight and magic-fueled lanterns filled the small cabin with a welcoming glow that I’d seen before but couldn’t quite place between the headache and the pain that was becoming more and more present with every second.
What in the ancestors’ names had happened to my back?
Why was I lying on it? I moved to sit up.
The room swirled, and I clamped my eyes shut. Shite. No movement. Got it.
“Ah, she wakes,” a scratchy voice weighted by time said.
Slowly, I opened one eye.
It was Laknar. He was alive. Thank the ancestors.
“Be gentle, young lady, and stay on your back.”
As a rule, I didn’t like it when a man asked me to stay on my back for him. But as this was Henrik’s Fjord Fae healer, and my entire body felt like shit, I was going to do as suggested.
Henrik…
Both eyes flew open, the room swirled, and I stared up at the old man.
“The… Captain?” My vocal cords grated together like rocks.
“Alive.”
Relief washed through me. Thank goodness.
“Didn’t lose a limb?”
Laknar shook his head. “Made quite a mess of the cave floor but has been up and moving for a few days now.”
A few days? How long had I been out exactly? Where were we? Where was I?
I took a deep breath and surveyed my surroundings anew. Tiny bottles and vials lined shelves, fresh linens were stacked on a workbench, and the smell of something medicinal and herbaceous filled what could only be the ship’s healer’s quarters.
“He has been in and out to check on you.”
“Really?” I asked.
A knowing smile flitted across Laknar’s wrinkled face.
“Yes, I have.”
My gaze shot to the entrance, where an obnoxiously dapper captain leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed, tattooed forearms on display. What little remained of my shattered heart beat harder in my chest, and my body flushed with heat.
“Henrik,” I said, my voice still sore.
“Little thief.”
His tumultuous eyes stayed locked with mine, both of us assessing the other, checking for internal injuries and external wounds.
I took a deep breath, winced at the sharpness on my back but kept staring.
The air in the room swelled around me as I remained his sole focus, nestling me in a cocoon of warmth that I could bathe in for days.
Being in such close proximity to this particular Fjord Fae wasn’t advised, yet for some damn reason, I was drawn to his presence. More so than I ever was with any jewels or precious objects. It was as if my body lit up around him. Reveled in the challenges he posed. Found joy in toying with him.
Shite.
Was I falling for him?
Or had I already fallen?
The terror that raced through my veins when I saw him crash against that cave wall…
The mere thought of it turned my stomach.
Yet, here he was, like a phoenix rising from an ashen heap.
That challenging glint in his eyes once more, like it would take a whole lot more than a frost giant to send him to the ancestors.
He was a being that I, admittedly, wanted to spend more time around. Much more.
Henrik tilted his head to one side and his lips lightly curled at the corners as if he could hear my thoughts. “May we have the room please, Laknar?”
“Of course, Captain.” The healer turned to me. “Lots of rest and come to me if you need a salve for your back.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
With a curt nod, Laknar stepped past Henrik and shut the door, leaving the two of us alone for the first time in who knew how long.
Tension flitted between us.
“Is… Did anyone get hurt?” I asked, breaking the silence.
He lifted one shoulder. “Scrapes and wounds that were easily bound together with Laknar’s magic.”
I let out a sigh. I didn’t want anyone to have succumb to the giant for the sake of my brash actions.
“The only one who is still healing is you.” My brow furrowed, and Henrik stepped across the room, closing the gap between us. He brushed his fingers against the edge of the table where I lay, skirting close to my hand but not touching. “Your injury was different.”
“It certainly felt like he was flaying me open.”
“And yet Hrim didn’t.”
“What?”
“He marked you.”
How on earth was that even possible? What sort of magic did Hrim have that could mar someone with such excruciating pain. “What does it look like?” I asked.
“We believe it is an ancient emblem of some sort. Though no one on board has ever seen anything like it.”
“You mean like a tattoo?”
He nodded. “Does it still hurt?”
“Do I love gold?” Sarcasm dripped from every word.
Henrik rolled his eyes.
“What does it look like?” I asked again as curiosity swelled in my stomach, and my fingers itched with that same feeling I got when I had to touch something that didn’t belong to me.
Henrik peered around the room, then made for the workstation where he started pulling open drawers. By the third drawer he hummed in appreciation and pulled out a charcoal stick and piece of parchment.
Without referencing my back, he quickly sketched out a collection of jagged lines that appeared to be ancient Nordic runes overlapping each other. Only one of which I was familiar with: water.
“Do you recognize the runes?” I asked.
Henrik pursed his lips. “Yes. Separated, these three mean water, kinship, and protected.”
That didn’t make sense. Kinship? “Hrim and I are nothing alike.”
“Really?” He set aside the charcoal and brushed his stained hand across his trousers. “Nothing alike?”
I shook my head. We really weren’t.
“You both love treasure. You both value your alone time. Oh, and you are both magical beings capable of controlling the water element.”
My shoulders slumped and my eyebrows pinched together. He may have been onto something.
“So”—he set his hands on his hips—“I wouldn’t be surprised if that tattoo was marking you as one like him.”
If I had the energy I would have laughed, because that may have been the most preposterous, yet annoyingly borderline accurate, statement I’d ever heard.
Shame it had to be coming from his mouth.
The same mouth that looked ready to smirk at me again.
Ancestors damn him then bring him back because I was growing rather fond of the Fjord Fae captain.
“Or perhaps it’s an ancient magic that will try to kill me if I ever steal from him again.”
Those lush lips grinned. “Best not test that theory.”
“Probably not, but there was a gorgeous candelabra that would be a magnificent addition to my cabin.” I groaned and tried to shift into a seated position that my muscles were not happy about. “Help me sit up, please?”
“Please? Are you sure you are feeling better?”
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “Figure I should be nice to the man who saved my life.”
“I did do that, didn’t I?” He smirked and with a touch as light as a feather, helped press me into an upright position, letting my legs dangle off the edge of the bench between his thighs. He set his hands on either side of my hips and leaned in. “And I’d do it again, Bryn.”
I sucked in a breath. “Why? I still don’t fully understand why you’d do that for me.”
That tension swelled between us once more.
Like water testing for cracks in a surface, searching for a weak spot to exploit.
This close I could see the sapphire ringlets in his eyes, the tiny scars across his face, and smell the cozy scent of sea salt and pine that always seemed to cling to him.
It was as if he embodied the rugged Norwegian coastline in every part of his being.
Home. He felt like home. Heat washed through my body, and I swallowed hard.
“Why, Henrik?”
He pressed his forehead to mine and whispered, “You know why.”
“Say it.” I needed to hear it for myself. Needed to stomp away those internal fears for good.
“Because I have searched for you ever since that night you stole my compass. Not a day has gone by where you do not cross my mind. Because I want to sail these oceans with you. I want to be by your side. I want to be the one you come home to at the end of a long day of thievery. I want to show you the depths of this ocean and the next, Bryn. If you’ll let me… ”
My breaths shuddered and my heart beat rapidly. I was at a loss for words. “Why?” I asked once more, lacking any other sentiment other than shock, awe, and a bubbling sensation in my sternum that some might have called hope.
Henrik gave me a gentle smile like he could see the hesitation and confusion within me. “That tenacity of yours for one. I’ve never met a woman who would slap the word no across its face and stab it in the back before heading off to do what she wanted.”
“Sounds a bit like me.”
He chuckled again. “Then there’s the way you smile when you see something you want. Generally something shiny. Your eyes crinkle at the corners just so and your lips curve to one side with a glee that I recognize and feel any time I’m able to cut down a bastard who tried to hurt one of my crew.”
“You do have a way with swords.”
“Oh, I’m very good with all kinds of swords.”
I rolled my eyes, but it was true—both the physical and the euphemism.
“And I love the way you think,” he added. “How something can so easily steal your focus but when faced with a challenge or emergency, you function like a ship soaring through the waves into battle.”