Now my heart thumped heavily for reasons other than joy. I didn’t want her to see that part of me, but it was a risk I was going to have to take. If I didn’t show her something meaningful, she’d never do the same.
“He was tasked with purifying me, with making sure my soul was clean enough for me to be the heir. When I was a child, it involved mostly whippings and long lectures, but as I got older, he got more creative. He had…a chest. A big wooden one that could lock. He called it the ‘Box of Contemplation.’ When he felt my thoughts had strayed too far into sin, he’d shut me in it until I’d had enough time to purify them again.”
“Did it work? Are your thoughts pure now?”
I breathed a laugh. “I suppose it must have. I have many carnal thoughts, but they’re only for my wife.” Before she could snap at me, I told her the rest. “One of the times he shut me in the chest, there was a fire in the chapel. I suspect another boy named Elric set it, but I was never able to prove it. Father Benedict ran without getting me out, and I was trapped in there, listening to the screams of people fleeing, convinced I’d burn alive.”
“How did you escape?” Her tone was tight and furious, almost like she cared.
“My mentor was a man named Wulfstan. If Father Benedict was responsible for my soul, Wulfstan was in charge of making me a man worth following. He taught me to fight but also how to lead. I rarely saw my father growing up, so Wulfstan became a father to me. He ran into the burning chapel and broke the lock open with a sword to get me out. Father Benedict had him lashed for destroying a church relic, arguing that Wulfstan could’ve simply dragged the chest out.” I rolled my neck, having to push away the memories of smoke and dark terror.
“What does this Wulfstan think of your turn to piracy?”
I’d been torn between eagerness to see him and fear of seeing disappointment on his face. I hadn’t asked why he wasn’t at our wedding in case the answer was that he was ashamed of me. He was a man of honor, and my actions would’ve gutted him.“I’m not sure. He must be away from the castle on some errand. There wasn’t much time to call him back.”
“I felt it,” Sigrid said, so low that it was practically a growl. “You still carry that fear, and I felt it when we took you prisoner on Talon’s ship. The moment you were shut belowdecks, you were back in that chest, fists hammering on the lid even though you were sure no one was coming to help. But on the ship, you were outwardly so calm, I wondered if I was confusing the source of the fear because it was so crowded and everyone was scared.”
“My panic would’ve done nothing to reassure our crew. I’ve learned to master it. Wulfstan taught me how to breathe through it.”
She nodded like she understood.
“What’s it like when you sense people’s fears?” I asked softly, daring to ask her a question in return. “Can you see the image as they do, or is it purely a feeling?”
She was quiet for so long, I thought she wouldn’t answer. “Depends on the person and depends on the fear. Most of the time, it’s just an awareness I’m surrounded by all the time. If I focus on someone, then I simply know the things that haunt them. Those are the things they may not be thinking of in the moment, but if left alone at night, they’re what would torment them. But when someone is actively afraid, it’s more tangible and harder to ignore. I’m bombarded by flashes of the specific things they fear, but I don’t just see them—I can feel their terror and sometimes taste the bitter tang of their cowardice.”
“How does that work on a battlefield, then?”
She shrugged. “My opponents all but give me instructions for how they want to die. They imagine my axe crushing their head, and I know that’s the blow that’s certain to land. They give away their weaknesses.” Her tone turned playful. “It’s more potentwith torture. Thehorrorsthey feed me with their fears…such inventive ideas that never would’ve occurred to me.”
I’d heard the stories that her father used her as his torture master when she’d still been a child, but I’d never really thought about being brutalized by someone who could sense your fears. It must’ve shattered people’s minds to imagine the worst that could happen only to have that very thing carried out.
“Does it bother you? Seeing yourself through the terrified imaginings of people who hate you?”
She chuckled softly. “If I did, it would’ve broken me. I have no need to be liked.”
Yet she was deeply respected on Ocracoke and clearly loved by her brothers. Who would she be if she hadn’t been turned into a weapon by her father?
“But isn’t it exhausting?” I asked. “Feeling everyone’s fears all the time?”
She exhaled slowly. “Until now, I’d never known anything else.” She was silent for a beat. Then I could hear the wicked smile in her voice. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”
“Ask you what?”
“What other fears of yours I gleaned in those days on my brother’s ship? Everyone always asks me.”
She was toying with me, trying to make me think she’d learned something that gave her leverage over me, but she hadn’t. “The only thing that matters is that it wasn’t you.” I studied her in the dim light like I might be able to read her expression. “What do you fear, Sigrid?”
She breathed a laugh. “Right now, it seems obvious. Thorin can handle himself. If he were the one being held captive, I wouldn’t be worried. But Layla is more breakable, and for all I know, my fuck of a father has already inflicted worse on her than he did in the past. We’ve known her since we were children, andThorin has loved her since then. When my father found out, he sent Layla to be trained as a courtesan to punish Thorin.”
“How did she escape?”
She snorted. “Thorin rescued her when we fled Daneland. ‘Abducted her’ might be a better description. He took her to Ocracoke with us and thought she’d marry him then, but she refused to give up her profession. She started a brothel on the island, and now she’s the highly successful madam. Thorin has been a stubborn bastard and won’t accept that she wants to keep doing her job…but they’re meant to be together. If they don’t get a chance to work their shit out, I’ll never forgive myself.”
I wanted to cross the room and hold her to soothe her fears, but I knew better. “They’re going to be fine, but it wouldn’t be your fault if something happened.”
She was silent for so long, I might’ve thought she’d gone to sleep if I couldn’t see the tense line of her neck against the pillow.
“I failed my youngest brother, Axel. The night of my brother Talon’s wedding, the Saxons attacked Ocracoke. They’d secretly drugged the wine at the feast, and it was an ambush. Axel was killed before I could protect him. He died with a sword in his back and no weapon in his hand—a shameful death for a berserker. They say he’s condemned to Niflheim and can never reach Valhalla. Unless I avenge his death.”
