Page 11 of The Sun He Buried

Baldr’s grin returns. “Your hair looks lovely now.”

“There’s yarn in it.”

He reaches toward my temple and pulls free a short blue strand. “There was.”

His fingers brush one curl. Barely. He lowers his hand.

The courtyard is noisy. The sea is louder. I hear all of it.

Baldr shifts the sword to his other hand. “Seven?”

“Seven.”

“Good.” He takes two backward steps, still facing me. “And Sól?”

“Yes?”

“Wear the yarn. It suits you.”

I flick the loose strand at him. It falls several feet short.

He laughs and carries his sword into the training yard.

Asta waits until he’s out of earshot. “You stopped breathing.”

“I was conserving air.”

“For what?”

“Later.”

She picks up my basket. “Do you want to go?”

Across the yard, Baldr reaches for the shirt one of his men holds out. He catches me looking before he pulls it over his head.

His smile is warm, open, and entirely for me.

I wind the blue yarn once around my fingers.

“Very much.”

Chapter Two

“The roof was only two stories high.”

Baldr stops cutting his fish.

“Only.”

“Well, the granary had three floors, but the roof started above the second. The ground sloped.”

“Which side did you climb?”

“The north side.”

He sets down his knife. “Where the ground doesn’t slope.”

“I learned that afterward.”