Page 133 of The Sun He Buried

Baldr’s fingers stop beneath my chin.

The stable hands continue past us with their eyes fixed ahead.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

His thumb moves along my jaw. “You said he didn’t make the storm. He didn’t.”

“You still walked away.”

“Because I wanted to hit him, and doing that in front of his entire hall would have become tiresome.”

“For you?”

“For everyone.”

That’s probably true.

Snowpetal stretches between us and puts one paw on Baldr’s chest.

He looks down at her. “Your defender has arrived.”

“She forgave Eirik.”

“Did he apologize?”

“Poorly.”

“Then it was Eirik.”

I rub Snowpetal between her horns. Wet fur sticks to my fingers.

“I’m not defending breakfast,” I say. “Or the weather report. Or the mutt comment.”

Snowpetal’s ears flatten.

“That was a quotation,” I tell her.

Baldr’s mouth pulls at one side.

There.

“I only said the part that was true.”

“You’ve said several true things for him.”

And now the small smile is gone.

I shift Snowpetal to my other arm. “And against him.”

“You followed him to the scale yard after he humiliated you.”

“Ketill invited me.”

“Then you helped him redesign the eastern releases.”

“Because the old way was bad.”