Page 131 of The Sun He Buried

“I live in fear.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, and the silver mask creases with them.

The bastard.

“Good.” I nod once, hard. That’s what he gets.

I turn toward the passage.

Snowpetal leaves Eirik’s boot and trots after me, tail club bouncing above the floor.

Behind us, Ketill starts cackling.

A heavy thump follows.

The cackling gets louder.

Chapter Fourteen

Snowpetal reaches the stable before I do.

This isn’t difficult. She has four legs, excellent claws, and no respect for weather. I have two legs, wet boots, and a cloak that keeps wrapping around my knees.

The path disappears beneath us while we run.

“Wait.”

Snowpetal doesn’t.

She hits the stable door with both front paws. The lower half swings inward, and she vanishes between two startled horses.

I reach it three breaths later and catch the frame before my left boot sends me under the nearest stall.

Progress.

The stable is louder than the hall. Wind punches at the roof. Horses stamp behind the partitions, and six people are carrying ropes, lanterns, feed sacks, and pieces of wood in every direction.

Baldr stands beneath the open loft with a roof beam over one shoulder.

The timber is longer than my bed and thick enough that I can’t put both arms around it. Two stable hands guide the far end while Baldr carries most of the weight by himself.

His coat lies across a gate. His dark shirt sticks to his back.

This remains unfair, even during emergencies.

He lifts the beam onto a pair of braces. The stable hands push it into place, and Baldr drives one wooden pin through the joint with the heel of his hand.

The whole wall shudders.

Snowpetal runs beneath him.

“Snowpetal.”

Baldr turns.

He looks at my hood, my boots, and the snow falling from both.

“What are you doing here?”

“Finding you.”