“Thank you, my lord.”
“We will talk about your freedom. For now, I wish to speak to Ari.”
Thyra is enraged. A vicious scowl twists her face. I’m happy we’re not alone—I’m sure she would strangle me to death. Try, at least.
“This lying witch, freed?” she froths. “A simple blue robe and she thinks she can order nobles around. Let her prove herself!”
I step forward, ripping a needle pin out of my dress. The bottom of my robe falls down, dragging on the floor as I approach her.
“Hold this, my lady,” I whisper.
“Stupid girl, you?—”
“Please, hold it.”
She opens her palm. I drop the pin in it. All eyes are on Thyra’s hand. Please gods, don’t forsake me now.
I clutch her fist, closing her fingers around the pin.
My head is cleared of words. I remember the cold. The feeling. On my body. How could I forget? How lonely I felt at the bottom of the river. Crushed by the endless torrent. Here we are. You and me. I feel the vibration. The cold. Outward. The pin is in Thyra’s hand. It grows colder. I know, because I am.
“Do you feel it, my lady?” I whisper.
“Let me go,” she says, wriggling to escape my grip.
In the chaos, I see it. A dark pit. A leech. Latched on. I close my eyes to see better. I know now. I know about Thyra. The weight she carries.
The second she rips her hand out of my grip, I understand.
Thyra is in the cold. Lonely. At the bottom of the river. Crushed by the endless torrent. But she isn’t with you. Not in the White. A noble woman with no choice. Now I know.
Haunted nights of torment.
Thyra has no one. Her struggles cannot be shared.
Stuck in a blizzard. No escape. Now I know.
Thyra is alone.
CHAPTER 39
This house is mine. What a thought. What a feeling. Unbelievable.
I’ve lit the hearth. The crackling birch wood spreads its sweet scent. The room is also lit by the candle mounted on the wall—placed by the thrall Sigurd sent to prepare my quarters. Who would have guessed robbing Asbjorn’s house would lead to me being given my own? I must be the luckiest slave girl in the world. It’s small, not lavish by any means, but it’s enough. Two benches flanking a solid table, two more benches along the edges of the walls, a bed in the corner, a fireplace. What more does one need?
I grab fresh pelts from the stack on my table, spreading them on the benches and my bed. My father—he would have liked this, been proud of his girl. A flayed and gutted rabbit hangs from a hook over the fireplace. It’s not easy being a horrible cook, but Ihave to start sometime. Ari’s tips will help. He seemed so somber on our descent, so?—
My heart jumps at a knock on the door.
“Hello?”
“It’s Eidunn,” says a muffled voice through the wood.
I rip the door open, unable to hide a beaming smile as I welcome my first guest ever.
“Welcome,” I say. “Please come in.”
Eidunn smiles, holding my eyes as she enters slowly.
