Chapter Ten #2
Baldr sits on my right, dressed for an argument in a dark coat with his hair tied back. Ketill is across from him, reading a page beside his plate. Snowpetal has been given a raw piece of venison on the floor between my chair and Asta’s.
The head chair is empty.
Again.
Morning light pours through the windows. The snow is bright beneath a clear sky.
Still no storm.
I wrap both hands around the coffee.
Baldr touches my knee under the table. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Some.”
Asta looks at me.
“Very little.”
“The room was cold?”
“No.” I turn the cup in my hands.
“The bed?”
“The bed was excellent.”
Ketill lowers the page.
Asta closes her eyes.
Baldr’s thumb moves against my knee. “You can go back upstairs after you eat.”
“I’m fine.”
The dining-room doors open.
Every servant in the room stops moving.
The man from the study walks in.
He’s fully dressed now. Black coat. Black gloves. The same silver mask covering everything below his eyes. The braids on top of his head disappear behind him, leaving the sides shaved clean.
His right eye is deep purple.
His left is pale green.
Baldr’s eye.
The coffee cup tips in my hands.
Asta catches the bottom before it spills.
The man takes the empty chair at the head of the table. Nobody pulls it out for him. Nobody speaks.
Baldr’s hand leaves my knee. “You found breakfast.”
The purple eye moves to him. “The hall is full of wonders.”
Ketill folds the page. “We had begun to mourn.”
“You recover quickly.”
His gaze reaches me.
Snowpetal abandons her venison.
She walks beneath the table and stops beside Eirik’s chair. Her white nose lifts toward the silver mask.
Eirik looks down.
Snowpetal looks up.
Nobody warns either of them.
“Your animal is considering my leg.”
“She does that.” Snowpetal leans in and sniffs his boot.
“Has she finished one before?”
“Not an entire one.”
He looks back at me. “Reassuring.”
Snowpetal sits on his boot.
Ketill presses his lips together.
I forget the coffee.
The purple eye. The pale-green one. Baldr’s face above the mask.
No.
Oh, gods.
Baldr looks between us. “Sól, my brother. Eirik.”
The dinner breaks open inside my head. Blood over Baldr’s hands. A child’s fingers gripping my arm. One silver mask turning toward me.
Then the study. The same silver. His hand under a woman’s dress.
Same man.
Same eye.
I cried for this man when I was nine.
He’s Baldr’s brother.
I have to sit here now like that’s an ordinary thing to know.
Eirik rests one gloved hand beside his plate. “We’ve met.”
Baldr’s head comes around. “You’ve met.”
“Briefly.”
“When? We got here yesterday.” He looks at me. “Sól?”
Yes. Last night. In his study, with his hand up a woman’s skirt.
I don’t say any of that.
Ketill reaches for his drink.
I stare at Eirik. “You knew I was there.”
“Before you touched the door.”
My fingers close harder around the cup. “How?”
“Doors aren’t required.”
Baldr’s jaw tightens. “Emotion feeders can sense people beyond touch. Eirik reaches farther than most.”
Eirik looks at him. “A charming little lesson.”
The woman’s voice returns. I want you to feed.
“Was she all right?”
His gaze comes back to me.
I’ve asked the wrong question. I know because his eye warms with amusement.
“She asked for the feeding. She chose every touch you saw. She knew one word would stop me.”
Good.
I breathe again.
Eirik tilts his head.
His pale-green eye moves to Baldr.
Only once.
Then he looks at me.
“You, however, widened the gap, stayed, and wanted me enough that I could feel you over her.”
Ketill spits his drink across the table.
It hits Eirik’s empty plate.
Nobody moves.
My face burns.
Eirik looks down at the plate. “Thank you, Ketill.”
Ketill wipes his mouth with the back of one hand. His blue eyes stay on Eirik. “Gods.”
“You had a warning,” Eirik tells him.
“You were the warning.”
Baldr stands.
His chair strikes the floor behind him.
Snowpetal drops the venison and growls.
“Enough.”
Eirik doesn’t look up. “Sit down.”
“You don’t speak to her that way.”
“She entered my room.”
Baldr plants both hands on the table. “The door was already open.”
“And remained in it.”
Ketill pushes the wet plate away. “You could have left the last part in your head.”
“It was crowded.”
“Try harder.”
Asta takes the cup from my hands before I drop it. Her fingers close around mine beneath the table.
I can’t look at Baldr.
I can’t look at Eirik either.
There’s nowhere left.
Baldr turns toward me. His jaw releases before he kneels beside my chair.
“Sól.”
I stare at our hands. Asta’s thumb presses against my knuckles.
“Look at me.”
I do.
Baldr’s face is open. Warm. The face Eirik hid beneath silver.
“He feels emotion,” Baldr says. “That gives him knowledge. It doesn’t give him the right to expose you.”
My throat closes.
“I watched.”
“You walked into an intimate scene and froze. Many people would react. You still choose what you want and what you do.”
Across the table, metal touches wood.
Eirik has set down his knife.
Baldr keeps his eyes on me. “You did nothing wrong.”
I nod.
One tear reaches my cheek.
Wonderful.
I wipe it away.
Another follows.
“I need to go.”
Baldr rises with me. “I’ll come.”
“No.”
The word breaks.
That makes everything better.
Asta stands. “I will.”
I pull my hand from hers.
“Please. I need one minute.”
She stops.
Baldr does too.
Eirik remains at the head of the table. His purple eye catches mine.
No smile now.
I hate that more.
I leave before the next tear falls.
It reaches my mouth at the stairs.
The guest passage is empty. I find our room without missing a turn and close the door behind me.
He can feel me through walls.
He can feel me from across the hall.
He can probably feel me crying now.
I hate that he knows.