Page 103 of The Sun He Buried

Nobody moves.

My face burns.

Eirik looks down at the plate. “Thank you, Ketill.”

Ketill wipes his mouth with the back of one hand. His blue eyes stay on Eirik. “Gods.”

“You had a warning,” Eirik tells him.

“You were the warning.”

Baldr stands.

His chair strikes the floor behind him.

Snowpetal drops the venison and growls.

“Enough.”

Eirik doesn’t look up. “Sit down.”

“You don’t speak to her that way.”

“She entered my room.”

Baldr plants both hands on the table. “The door was already open.”

“And remained in it.”

Ketill pushes the wet plate away. “You could have left the last part in your head.”

“It was crowded.”

“Try harder.”

Asta takes the cup from my hands before I drop it. Her fingers close around mine beneath the table.

I can’t look at Baldr.

I can’t look at Eirik either.

There’s nowhere left.

Baldr turns toward me. His jaw releases before he kneels beside my chair.

“Sól.”

I stare at our hands. Asta’s thumb presses against my knuckles.

“Look at me.”

I do.

Baldr’s face is open. Warm. The face Eirik hid beneath silver.

“He feels emotion,” Baldr says. “That gives him knowledge. It doesn’t give him the right to expose you.”

My throat closes.