A shadowy figure appears from behind it, waving me toward him.
I can’t see his face in the dim light. Even if I know it’s Ari, a sliver of ice forms in my belly. It’s not appropriate for young women to meet men in the middle of the night. Would I be punished if we were discovered? I simply don’t know. Perhapsmy master would tolerate it. Vidar would without a doubt be disappointed and lose interest.
As I come close, Ari grabs my wrist and pulls me gently away from the farm. No words. Just mystery. A snort escapes me.
“Stop, where are we?—”
He holds a finger to his lips, then smiles through his beard. Ari is a good-looking man, more handsome than Vidar or Narve—the white light of night somehow enhances this. He could be Loki, the charming trickster. His hair is unbound, hanging loosely on the sides of his face. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of entertaining me, I stifle a smile. My nervousness blends with excitement. Where is the bastard taking me?
We enter the tree line. Darkness swallows us as we hastily sneak our way into the forest. I can hear his breathing, my own, our footsteps. An owl hoots somewhere deeper in the trees, repeating its pattern again and again. Ari turns to me suddenly, making me place my hand on my pouch, ready to grab my knife. He could just attack me—he wouldn’t be the first man to assault a woman in the night. But people would hear my scream. I remember the jarl’s words yesterday. No one is to harm a hair on my head. Ari’s a mangy bastard, but he’s not stupid.
“Don’t you feel alive?” he whispers before grabbing my wrist again and pulling me farther.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Almost there.”
We keep going. I feel like laughing. Why does this feel like home? Unseen, unheard, unknown. During the day, we wear our faces. We are weighed, measured, judged. Alone in the night, I am the mist, a shadow, free. One day I will be out in the open, free in the day as I am in the night. I will not hide my face, proudly displaying who I am without lies, without remorse. I do feel alive. Like Ari said. But I want to live. I want to be alive, always.
“Here we are.” He pulls me in front of him, like one would a petulant child.
Before I can complain about my treatment, he grabs my shoulders and leads me forward. Trees disappear. It’s a large clearing, with several rocks scattered about. A gigantic boulder stands in the middle of the space. Breathtaking—shadows battle the bluish light that trickles down on us from a clear sky.
“Very nice, Ari. But why not show me during the day?”
“You would never say yes.”
“True.” I laugh. “What do you want with this?”
“I saw you with Thyra today,” he whispers. “Heard the exchange.”
“Oh great.” I turn to him, my hands on my hips. “And now you wrote a poem about it, no doubt.”
“Not yet, but I have some ideas dancing in my mind.” He laughs. “But no, that’s not it. Look on the ground.”
I look around. It’s dark enough that all I see are some bushes—I can’t even recognize what type they are.
“I don’t get what?—”
“Come.”
He sits at my feet. His hand wraps around mine, tugging me down. What a strange man. A part of me tells me to resist, to fight his bizarre plan. He probably wants to charm me like one of his previous girls. Fuck the thrall and make her pregnant—a fun poem. They would all clap.
But I don’t feel fear. Ari has some serene energy about him, like he belongs out here. Without a mask. Like me. It’s like he also plays his role during the day, forced to go through the motions of life’s common activities. Here, in the dark, with Ari, I do feel alive. I want to live.
I sit next to him. He grabs my hand and turns it.
“Here,” he whispers, “taste.”
He places a few berries in my palm. His fingers stroke against my skin, sending a shiver up my arm. Goosebumps spread like wildfire up toward my neck.
“What is?—”
“Eat, Kilda.”
I obey. Not as a slave, not as a thrall. As Kilda. I place the berries on my tongue. Strawberries. Gorgeous wild strawberries. An explosion of flavor.
“So good.”
