I’m surprised the wall of a warrior is openly siding with me instead of his sister. Perhaps he could be a true ally. Vidar leans casually against the central pillar of the hall, folding his arms so his muscles bulge. It’s a slight challenge to look away.
“Thank you, Vidar. Your support means a lot to me.”
“So, you are leaving soon?”
“Yes, your father wants me to master Seidr. I hope to provide protection to the people of Opdal.”
“Kilda the Volva, that will be something. I’m sure your knowledge will help the valley.”
“Better than Kilda the Bull, right?”
I wink at him as my smile broadens. He throws his head back in laughter and claps his hands.
“To me,” he says, “you will always be Kilda the Bull—even as an enchantress.”
“I don’t think I will ever receive a grander title, Vidar.”
“It’s an honorable title.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” My body flushes as I catch myself flirting. “Weren’t you known as the bull before me?”
“It was a mere joke,” he laughs.
“I’m sure it wasn’t a joke to the heartbroken girls who gave you the name.”
His joke the other day had been about being brave, not being good in bed. Heat rushes through my face as I realize what I have implied. His mouth gapes but quickly turns to a grin. I’m just happy I haven’t offended him.
“Jealous, my lady?” he teases. Better to be called lady than slave.
“Me?” I ask wide-eyed, hoping to brush the whole thing off by playing the innocent victim. “Never.”
“I’m not quite like the bull when we release him among the cows, eagerly chasing every lady.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t complain.”
We lock eyes. I’m quite blunt. I don’t even mean to be. Here I am, and it feels like this happened by itself. I enjoyed having fun with Narve. I’m sure I could enjoy some time with Vidar too. Even Ausveig admitted she wouldn’t pass up on the chance.
“Even a bull needs rest,” he laughs.
“But so many cows need mounting,” I tease.
“Come on, Kilda, aren’t you going on a trip with Ari the Skald yourself?”
“Your turn to be jealous, Vidar?”
He scoffs, waving a hand like he’s swatting away some annoying fly.
“Jealous of that puny bastard? He couldn’t chop a carrot if he wanted, let alone cut down a warrior.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Many girls are impressed by fanciful words as well as swordplay.”
Vidar straightens from the pillar, stretching to flex as I’d seen him do so many times now. The leather in his outfit gets tested, strained by the shapes beneath. I can’t lie—wordplay and swordplay, both attractive, but this man’s body does a good job of grabbing my attention all by itself. I’m a simple girl apparently.
“Well,” he says. “Between us, I hope you prefer swordplay.”
“Surely a lord wouldn’t care about a simple thrall girl’s preference.” I lean closer, laying a hand on his biceps and giving it a light squeeze. Yes, it’s to charm him. But if I’m being honest, I don’t mind stealing a little feel of his toned form. The muscle is hard as iron. The man’s a wall.
