Page 90 of Soul of Fire

For Elysia’s sake,I groaned, trying to shut them both out of my mind lest they have me jumping Arik’s bones before we could be handfasted.

Thank the Hearthmother that Arik had used Baldur’s magic to soothe my poor, aching thighs.

“It’s me.” Sigrid entered my room, one arm carrying a package wrapped in paper and string, and the other gripping the head of agnarled, wooden cane. She had a look of defiance on her ancient face that I knew well. “I know you are angry–”

“I’m not.” I rose and wrapped the old woman in a tight hug, ignoring the way the package was squashed between us. “I mean, I was, but I could never stay angry at you, Mormor.”

Do you need me?Arik’s voice came across our mental bridge so clearly I started in surprise.

I’m fine. It’s just Sigrid.

Baldur huffed in disbelief, and it was so good to hear his growls in my head again that I didn’t even admonish him.

Sigrid sniffed, and I let her go so she could secretly wipe away the tears I knew she didn’t want me to see. “Well then. Good. Because I have more I need to tell you, and it would be inconvenient to shout it all through the door.”

I laughed and patted the bed beside me. We’d slept in one of the empty dormitories, of which there were several now that so few priestesses remained. Arik had given me a withering look when I’d suggested we leave the single beds apart, pushing them together so he could “properly grovel,” in his words.

I had to fight a flush as I remembered the groveling.

“You seem happy with him at least.” Sigrid said, arching a brow at me. “It’s been awhile since we discussed such things. I don’t suppose you need a refresher on the mechanics?”

“Absolutely not.” Sigrid grinned, and I felt myself flush. “Your cough is better?”

“It comes and goes.” Sigrid waved a hand dismissively as she placed the paper-wrapped package on my lap. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“This is for you. A gift from your mother.”

“My mother?” I was too eager to wait, ripping into the paper to reveal a spill of blue, shimmering fabric beneath, the same light blue as the priestesses’ robes.

“I see you still open gifts like you did when you were nine,” she sighed, her lips tipped up in a bemused smile. “Yes, it was your mother’s. Her wedding gown, in fact. Fashioned from the robes of a priestess, since it was the only fabric readily at hand.”

I pulled the paper away and admired the gown that fell across my lap. It had a square neckline and a white antler-bone belt, and it laced up on either side. Something fluffy peeked out below, and I unfurled a fur wrap, white as the snow of the untouched Odemark.

“Sigrid.” I shook my head, trying to form words. It was probably the most beautiful gown I had ever seen, and definitely more beautiful than any I’d worn. “She was married in this?”

“She was so stubborn.” She stroked her hand over the fur wrap and smiled. “She used to sneak out, you know. She had a boat hidden in the woods, and she’d sneak over to the nearest town at night. That’s where she met him.”

“I don’t really remember him,” I confessed, trying to picture my father. He’d been killed when I was only six, and the trauma oflosing him, along with all of our worldly possessions and selling ourselves to Henrik, had blocked him out of my memory completely.

“He loved her, despite his failing.” Sigrid sighed, looking older than she had only the night before. “And she loved him. Your mother thought he’d protect her from Dragejakt.”

“Protect her?”

“Married women are usually given an exemption if they’re found to be Chaosborn,” Sigrid explained. “And she wasn’t supposed to exist. I was afraid the drage would kill her if they discovered her, but she assured me he would keep her safe.” She shook her head with a huff. “She should have come back to me when he passed.”

“Why didn’t she?” I asked. I would have grown up here in this temple, surrounded by quiet and solitude and priestesses who would have cared for me, rather than beaten me.

“For you, I think.” Sigrid settled more deeply onto the bed as she folded up the gown and wrap. She looked at me, her eyes piercing. “You know I would have saved her if I could.”

I swallowed. My mother. She would have saved my mother. “Why couldn’t you?”

Sigrid sighed. “I might have been able to help if she’d written sooner. She already knew she was dying when she told me where to find her. Find you.”

“What about the Tear?” I asked, suddenly angry. “You gave it to me when I left. Why didn’t you try giving it to her?”

Sigrid patiently stroked my head. “I did, my Eisa.”