Chapter 34 Freija
Freija
He extended his hand to me, and I accepted his help, getting to my feet.
I didn’t dare look at what remained of the man who’d tried to kill me.
Halvar tugged on me gently, pulling me away from the bloody scene.
My entire body trembled, mind along with it, as he led me away.
Shock. I was going into shock… but I couldn’t let it overtake me.
All of my training and studying had prepared me for this kind of scenario.
I took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly, willing my heart rate to stabilize so my mind could work properly.
It was a lot harder than expected—which wasn’t too surprising considering the differences between training and true combat—but by the time we reached the other side of the field, my mind was able to find a bit of calm, even though my body was screaming at me that it wasn’t well.
“Are you all right?” Halvar turned, drawing to a stop, but not letting go of my hand. His gaze roved over every part of me as if assessing for damage.
“I’m fine.” I motioned to my throat. “But there might be some bruises.”
He stared at the spot where the roots had tried to choke me and grumbled. “Remind me to forge more daggers for you. I want you strapped with weapons whenever you step outside the mountain.”
More? What did he mean by… I gasped. “More daggers.”
He stilled, then let go of my hand and walked on back toward our camp, clutching his shoulder. “Yes.”
I stared at the sheathed blade at my hip. The one he’d given me weeks ago during our training sessions. The one that looked like it had been crafted by a master Fjell smith. “Did you make this for me?”
He peered back, shrugged, and winced. “It’s a blade.”
It most certainly wasn’t just a blade. It was more than that, but that wasn’t the most important thing right now. Halvar had just winced. An unsettling feeling took place in my gut. The man seemed invincible, and yet…
“You’re hurt.” I caught up and rounded to face him. “Look at me.”
He bristled, hand clutched at his shoulder, a trickle of blood seeping through his fingers. “It’s nothing.”
“That’s not nothing, soldier, and you know it.” I motioned to the tree line. “Get under there so I may look at it.”
Another grumble, but he did as requested and lumbered to the edge of the forest. Turning, he sat down against a tree trunk with a thud and a grimace.
I scrambled over and knelt beside him. “Let me have a look.”
He winced again. “You know how to tend wounds?”
“Of course. It was part of my and Nora’s early studies in case of… unfortunate events.” I picked up a nearby stick and waved it in front of him. “Now, bite this for me.”
That grimace continued, but he removed his hand from his wounded shoulder and set the piece of tree between his teeth.
Good. That should keep him preoccupied and stop any negativity while I assessed the gash.
And it was a gash.
Scarlet seeped from the wide cut.
My eyes widened and my stomach flipped.
Ancestors help us. If that blade had sunk any deeper, it could have taken his arm.
I untucked my shirt from my trousers and pulled at the hem. A thick swath of fabric ripped free. It wasn’t the cleanest material, but considering the bloody and soil-covered state of the rest of our attire, it was the best I could do.
Tugging aside the tattered edges of his shirt, I exposed the wound and set to work wrapping the fresh material around it. Halvar grunted a few times, but the stick did its job: keeping his comments to a minimum.
With the makeshift bandage fastened and tightened enough to staunch the worst of the bleeding, I sat back on my heels and assessed my work.
“That should be good enough,” I said with a sigh.
He spat out the branch. “Good enough? What happened to perfect?”
I stood and brushed my hands across my trousers, ridding myself of detritus. “I-I’m trying something new.”
“It’s about time.”
“What?”
He shook his head and gingerly rose to his feet. “Never mind.”
“It… It should have stitches, but that has never been a strength of mine. Nora was always better with a needle and thread.”
“You don’t need to stitch me up.”
That was very much debatable.
“Thank you, Freija,” he added, looming over me with that all-consuming presence of his.
“Now”—I waved my hands, trying to refocus as a flush of heat washed across my cheeks—“just don’t die.”
He stood so close, staring down at me with that look—the same one he’d had before he kissed me in my chambers and beside the camp fire. His hand reached up and he twirled a lock of my hair between his fingers. “Would you miss me if I did?”
I swallowed hard. I shouldn’t answer that. We’d already waded into dangerous territory, but my heart wanted to leap in headfirst. “Yes,” I replied.
He sucked in a breath, like he hadn’t expected either of us to be so bold, and took a step back, letting his hand fall.
Cool air filled the space between us as we stared into each other’s eyes.
Did he feel this tension too? This constant need to be near him, to touch and be touched, to hear what he thought on matters?
Just the presence of his broad form had grown on me.
I… enjoyed his company and wanted, no, craved, more of it.
He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Let’s grab our things and head for the coast. There should be a village just north of here.”
Lost for words, I nodded and followed him into the dark forest, the stars and moon lighting our path.
“By the way,” I muttered, “that fae that you beheaded said something right before he passed.”
“Mmm?”
“He said we should be more careful about who we put in leadership.”
Halvar stopped in his tracks, and I slowed beside him.
“It can’t be someone on the Council or one of your commanders, can it?”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t know what they’d have to gain.”
“Me neither.” It was odd. But then again, perhaps the dead fae was lying.
“Best keep an eye on everyone,” Halvar said with a shake of his head.
I couldn’t have agreed more.
We made our way back to the camp and found it unharmed. The fire smoldered and our blankets and packs had been untouched. Thank goodness the band of fae had been more focused on us than our things. I’d have been devastated if I lost all my research and the gifts from Vigdis.
As we retrieved the two packs and our cloaks, Halvar asked, “What was the stick for?”
I bit my bottom lip to hide my smile.
His face pinched with annoyance.
“Commentary was unnecessary for me to do my work. We didn’t need more discussions,” I said, mimicking his earlier words when he’d thrown me onto the horse.
He quirked a single eyebrow. “Are you bickering with me, princess?”
I smirked. “I don’t bicker, soldier.”
“Oh, really?”
“I settle debates.”
He huffed a laugh, and a flame of joy ignited within my chest as we set off into the night.
The smell of salt filled the cool morning air as we stopped at a cliff edge, ships sailing by in the distance.
Waves crashed into the small and exposed cove below, breaking against the weathered rocks and sandy shore.
It was a long way down, but a tiny trail curved back and forth between the pines to the right of the beach.
The place looked like a smuggling route or a spot to shelter from the brutal storms of the North Atlantic.
Wind billowed through our cloaks and tugged at the scrapes and tears in our shirts.
Halvar’s leather vambraces had seen better days too.
The left one was missing a buckle and the right had a few nasty scratches that hadn’t been there before our fight last night.
Then there was his arm… The sight gave me pause and my stomach lurched.
My makeshift bandage had turned dark red and the rest of his arm was covered in splotches that he’d been brushing off during our trek to the coast overnight.
He couldn’t be feeling good. Even I wasn’t feeling good, and while neither of us had slept, my injuries were nowhere near as dire.
“Should we rest here?” I asked.
Halvar turned to me, his face as blank and stoic as usual, as if he needed to hide what he was feeling. But the fact that he hadn’t immediately grumbled in reply was telling enough for me.
“We could both do with a moment to rest our legs,” I added.
He peered across the cove, and, eventually, nodded.
Thank the ancestors. Not just for his sake, but also for my own. My legs had gone numb a while back and daydreams of Gylli trotting by and miraculously finding us had set in.
“Let’s head down there then.” I hitched my pack over my shoulder again, and, without any grumbles, we set off.
The path wound through the trees, the canopy providing much-needed shade from the bright morning light. Trickles of water ran down the hill beside us, and, as we reached the bottom, slithered through the sand and into the ocean.
My magic tugged at me as if something were wrong, and I turned back to find Halvar lumbering over to the cliff wall and sitting down against it, facing out toward the sea.
He’d gone pale. Too pale. Had they poisoned their blades and arrows? Noooo. Why hadn’t I thought of that sooner? Forest Fae were notorious for dousing their weapons with all manner of concoctions to deal more lethal blows.
Scrambling across the beach, I fell to my knees beside him. “Halvar, we need to get you help as fast as possible. Is there a village close by?”
He shook his head and leaned back. “There should be one a little farther north of here, but, you’re right, you need rest.”
“So do you.”
He harumphed.
“You do! Ancestors, Halvar, you look as pale as the lilies in my books.”
“I will be fine. I’ve had worse.”
“Do I want to know the story?”
“No, you do not.”
I figured as much, but what could I do? I looked back to the ocean as if the answers might be found there. Sails of two ships, one black and one blue, drifted across the horizon. Ships? Wait a minute…
“What if I built a fire and we got on one of those ships out there and to the nearest port for a healer?”