I blinked.“That sounds like a made-up story.”Especially the part with the crystal in the skull,I thought.
“Ah, it probably is,” Dania said.“But Jorn is a very calming soul, is he not?”
Reedman gave me a full goblet and held up the egg-ball with a grin.Another game commenced.
The mead had become, without my knowledge or invitation, a tunnel for me.There was Mira the Goldkeeper, rigid, according to prescription, mild.And then there was Mira, the accidentally drunk.I didn’t know that parts of me had come to the surface because I had the excuse of being drunk.I didn’t pay such good attention to things like that back then.
I only knew that I wanted more.
I drank, and it was as if I’d been wearing a second goldkeeper’s gown all my life and finally took it off.Dania pulled me up, and we jumped around, sloppily piecing together Islish dance routines which did not pair at all with the Norsern music.We laughed and hopped and flitted and held hands and took turns spinning each other in circles.I fell many times and none of the falls hurt.And then the song changed—a rumbling, growling, heavy tune.Deep voices joined in, and Reedman played.The twanging, groaning, pulling sound and the build of the drums faster and faster… I felt it in my blood.My limbs translated that feeling.I swayed and twisted my wrists above my head.I rolled my neck and closed my eyes, feeling, feeling, feeling.Drowning in sensation.The rush of music on my skin.
Foreverness.
Fearlessness.
“There,” Dania whispered to me when the music finally slowed in the early hours of the morning, and we collapsed onto furs to rest our legs.She held my head gingerly, stroking my hair.“There, see?You have tasted being Norsern and no bad has come from it.”
I cried silent tears as I pressed my cheek into her shoulder.“I am a void.There is nothing inside of me.”
“No.”Her voice became firm.“You are drunk.You will be embarrassed to have cried in a few hours.Also, you’re due to meet with The Bard King shortly.”
“What?”I sat up suddenly.
“It is morning.He will have risen already.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I figured the light coming through the windows would have told your eyes, and your eyes would have told you.”
“I must refresh…” I took a swaying step toward the door and then stopped, worried I was to retch.
“You must eat and move slow.Mead mornings require no sudden movements or loud sounds.”
“Good morning.Have you been waiting?”I rushed into King Arik’s study to find him standing over his tall table, examining a piece of linen.The window was open—as he liked it—a frigid breeze coasting into the room.
I’d furiously combed my hair and splashed my face with water before making my way to him, but I didn’t feel at all recovered or presentable.
“Ha!You have had a good evening, Gentlewoman.”
“It was… fair.”The world swam around me.
“Sit.Sit.Eat something.Drink.”
The toasted cranberry bread he pushed across the table looked revolting.The mead he pushed forward after that left me worried I would vomit.
The king used his stern voice.“I can assure you.It will ease you.”
I took the plate and goblet and sat in the chair near the window.It was far enough away that I could still see him clearly despite the height of his table.I set the goblet on the windowsill, hoping to forget about mead entirely, and picked at the bread, finding a thread of respite in how cold the room was.
“I heard you created names for many in my court?”
“Word travels fast,” I said.
“It does.That is good to remember, Gentlewoman.This is not exclusive to my court.Everyone wants to be the first person to tell a king the news.It is the same for a commander.A captain.And people are especially prone to talking about you since your visit to the land.”Though he was talking to me, he kept his eyes on the linen he was observing, his brows furrowing and then unfurrowing as the breeze tugged at his tunic.
“Hallbjern—the man who attended you and Jorn to shore—he said the wind came to meet you.He is not known for being particularly spiritual, so people are listening.”
I could recall the rush of wind when we’d stepped onto the beach, but there had been nothing… unusual about it.
