Page 107 of The Sun He Buried

Of course it isn’t.

Ketill leans closer. “Why did Solveih need to hear it?”

“She didn’t.”

“You could have stopped.”

“So could she.”

His anger sharpens.

I lower my eyes to the ledger.

Ketill takes it away.

I let him keep the book because killing the mine overseer during a recount would slow matters further.

“She was supposed to turn around,” I tell him.

He puts the ledger on the far side of the desk. “She was supposed to see you with another woman.”

“The door was closed…mostly.”

“You made certain she knew what was behind it.”

“She opened it.”

“And when that failed, you finished the work at breakfast.”

I lean back.

“You objected to breakfast?”

“I objected to you informing your brother that the woman beside him wanted you.”

“She did.”

“Baldr was sitting there.”

“He stood soon after.”

Ketill hits the desk hard enough to rattle the cup beside my hand.

He catches it before it falls.

“You spat on my plate,” I remind him.

“You earned worse.”

“You wasted coffee.”

“I heard the stupidest sentence you’ve produced in six hundred years. My mouth defended itself.”

That nearly gets me.

I turn it into a cough.

Ketill isn’t fooled. He puts the cup farther from me.