Page 140 of The Sun He Buried

The club strikes the floor once.

“She’s chosen the stable.”

“She may eat it.”

“Then Eirik can replace it.”

Fair.

Baldr carries me to the door.

The storm tries to remove both of us the instant he opens it. I bury my face against his neck. Snow hits the back of his shirt, melts beneath my hands, and runs warm over his skin.

“Still want me upstairs?”

“Very.”

He puts one arm over my hood and runs.

I contribute by holding on.

We reach the hall without dying.

Baldr doesn’t put me down. He carries me past the hearth, up the west stairs, and into his room. Nobody speaks to us.

Everyone knows.

Again.

His door closes behind my back. There is straw in my hair. I find it much later, on the pillow, and decide not to mention it.

Baldr hangs our wet things by the fire, brings the extra blanket from the chair, and gets into bed. I settle against his chest. His fingers move through my hair while the storm covers the windows a little higher.

I wait until he looks close to sleep.

“Were you and Eirik ever close?”

Baldr’s fingers stop.

That answers part of it.

“You chose now?”

“You said ask again later.”

“That was about whether I was angry.”

“Are you?”

“Less.”

“Good. Were you?”

His chest rises beneath my cheek. “Why are you asking me about my brother in my bed?”

Oh.

When he says it that way, this doesn’t sound excellent.