Page 180 of The Sun He Buried

No sound.

My body simply keeps crying while I stand there holding his knife.

Eirik flinches.

Small. Fast.

I see it.

He turns away before the next tear reaches my mouth.

His back faces me.

“Leave the knife.”

I hold it out.

He doesn’t turn.

I put it on the fence beside the bottle.

The blade knocks once against the wood.

Eirik reaches for neither.

I walk back to the rope.

The wind dries the first tears and brings more snow to replace them.

I don’t run.

I make every step slowly and get to the side door without falling.

The gallery is empty.

Good.

I close the door, wipe my face with both hands, and walk through the dark hall.

Baldr’s room has no lamp burning.

He lies on his side with his back to the door.

Asleep.

Perhaps.

I leave the purple cloak across the chair and slide beneath the blanket without touching him.

He doesn’t move.

I stare at the ceiling.

Eirik’s breath returns to the place below my ear.

His hands stay beside my body without touching it.

Then the words come back.