Page 134 of The Sun He Buried

“Then you defended the recount.”

“Because eight bars were missing.”

Baldr looks toward the stable door. Snow presses against the lower boards and spills through the gap beneath them.

“I’m not angry that you were right, Sól.”

“What are you angry about?”

He rubs both hands over his face.

That answer again.

I catch one wrist before his hand drops.

Baldr looks at my fingers. Mine don’t close all the way around him.

“Tell me.”

“He hurts you, and you keep walking back.”

His wrist goes still under my fingers.

Snowpetal stops moving in my arms.

“I walked back to you.”

His eyes lift to mine.

“I’m here.”

The stable girl passes us with the last coil of rope. The outer door closes behind her. A second stable hand checks the stalls, bows to Baldr, and follows.

We’re alone with twelve horses, one Sanguir, and a roof that may be listening.

Baldr touches the wet curl beside my cheek. “He thinks you’re predictable for coming after me.”

“I am predictable.”

“You are not.”

“I sleep with a stuffed unicorn, talk to every animal I meet, and have eaten the corner from your cake since I was ten. I’m full of patterns.”

“You also climbed a roof for a kitten.”

“That was one time.” Snowpetal squirms, and I hitch her higher.

“You walked into Eirik’s study.”

“Wrong door.”

“You picked up a Sanguir.”

I look at Snowpetal. “She was cold.”

Baldr’s mouth finally gives in.

I put Snowpetal on the floor before the smile can escape again. She trots toward a stall and begins sniffing beneath the gate.