And even now, lying here alone in the dark, the depth of that kindness kept coming clearer. How he’dknownshe was lying all this time, and how he’d still sought to teach her, to care for her. How he’d sought to make her belong among his clan. How he’d surely had to defend her against his kin, when she’d singlehandedly brought morewarto their doorstep.
And even how this, here, was the very first night Maria had spent alone in this room. How despite all the hours Simon had left her alone during the days, he had always come back at nights. Had cared for her. Kept her safe.
And now? Maria scrubbed at her face, dragged in more breath. She’d hurt him. She’d insulted him. She’d broken her word. She’d destroyed everything.
And she still had to run. Shehadto.
“Maria?” came a tentative voice from the doorway — and when she twitched up to look, it was Baldr. Standing there holding a lamp, looking just as tired as she felt. “Are you able to come meet with us, for a spell?”
Right. Lady Norr’s meeting. Meaning that it must be morning, finally, and Maria silently nodded, and slid out of bed. Not even caring that she was still wearing only her loincloth — at least, until Baldr’s hand thrust out what appeared to be… clothes?
“Simon tells us you wish to leave,” he said, quiet. “He asked me to give these to you.”
Oh. Something else seemed to crack, low in Maria’s chest, but she nodded again, and took the clothes, and pulled them on. But gods, she’d gotten so used to the easy movement of Simon’s huge tunics, that even these loose-fitting men’s garments felt uncomfortably close and constricting. Trapping her into a form and a facade that weren’t hers, that she no longer wanted to be hers.
But she kept going, and once she’d finished fastening the trousers over her loincloth, she attempted a smile at Baldr’s shadowy-looking face. “Thank you, Baldr. You’ve been so good to me.”
He jerked a shrug, and then raised the lamp, casting its light over the room, over the still-shredded remnants of the contract on the floor. “Is there aught else here that is yours?”
Maria swallowed, about to say that nothing here belonged to her — but then her gaze caught on something, glinting on the floor beside the bed. Her dagger. Hers, Simon had told her.
And surely any decent Skai wouldn’t go travelling without at least one weapon, so Maria went to grasp for it, tucking it into its usual place against her hip. And then hesitated, glancing around at this so-familiar room, with its bed, its weapons, its papers and clothes and carvings. Her prison, herhome.
Her eyes fell on the carving at the front of Simon’s little group — his father — and for some reason she lurched toward it, carefully resting her hand on its head, the way Simon had done. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to it. “I’m so sorry, Sjovarr. But Iwillkeep your grandson safe. Iwill.”
The certainty of that statement seemed to settle, heavy and quiet — and somehow, in the midst of all the swirling chaos, it helped. Enough that Maria could raise her eyes again, and seek one more favour of the orc who’d already been so, so generous to her.
“Before the meeting, Baldr, could you please take me to the Skai shrine?” she asked. “Just for a moment?”
Baldr nodded, and accordingly turned, and led her down the corridor. And when they reached the door to the shrine, he didn’t step inside, but instead held back, and waved Maria forward. Because, maybe, he wasn’t Skai, and she…was.
She tried to smile her thanks toward him, but the heaviness had begun sinking again, curdling in her belly. And it was all she could do to choke back a sob as she knelt on the fur-covered bench before Skai-kesh, and bowed her head.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve fucked this up beyond imagining. I’ve broken my word, and betrayed the one person I most — care for. All for the sake of my…revenge.”
But the last word felt strange in her mouth, unfamiliar, almost like it belonged to someone else — and when Maria raised her head, blinking, it was as though the god’s glinting black eyes were looking through her, into her. Knowing that word wasn’t hers anymore too, and instead searching for her fear, her longing, her blessing. Her truth.
So Maria drew in a quivering breath, held it deep. “For my fear,” she began, “I’m afraid I’ve ruined everything. I’m afraid I’ve lost all the peace I’ve found here. I’m afraid I’ve lost Simon, for good.”
And that was true, she felt it, and she dragged in more breath, more courage. “For my longing,” she continued, “I long to make it right. To find a way to make amends. To stop this war. To stop my husband. To gain Simon’s trust again.”
And yes, that was true, too, sinking in alongside the rest. And there was one more to find, to speak. The blessing.
“And I’m so thankful,” she whispered, “for all I’ve learned here. For Simon. And for” — her hands dropped, found her waist, spread wide — “for my son. I’ve wanted a child for so long, you know. And I can scarce believe he’s real, I can’t believe I’ve gained such a gift. And he will bewonderful, I know, he’ll be so stubborn and patient, he’ll probably have a pathological obsession with weaponry, he’ll keep his promises and sacrificeeverythingto keep his kin safe, and I just —”
Gods, she was weeping again, the tears streaking down her face, and she dashed them away with shaky fingers. “I can’t risk him,” she choked out. “I can’t. I need to do everything to keep him safe. You must see that.Please.”
And blinking up at Skai-kesh’s watching eyes, there was the certainty, sudden and simmering, that he did see. That he’d… accepted it. Accepted her.
Mine. Skai.
Maria’s exhale was heavy, worn, relieved. Yes. Skai. She would do this. Watch. Listen. Learn. Find new ways. Find… courage.
And when she felt an odd prickle, skittering up her back, she didn’t even twitch, and instead turned to look toward it, feeling through the darkness. Toward… Joarr?
But yes, it was Joarr again, leaning casually against the wall, just where he’d been the first time she’d come here. Looking at her with the same glinting watchfulness in his eyes. The samesatisfaction.
“Come, woman,” he told her, pushing off the wall, inclining his head as he strode past. “We speak, and next we go.”
