Page 219 of The Sun He Buried

The words do nothing.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

There’s no accusation in it.

That hurts more.

I look at the table.

“I wanted to.”

Baldr breathes out.

“That’s not what I asked.”

My eyes burn.

“I know.”

His jaw tightens.

Then releases.

“I’d have stopped.”

“I know.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know.”

He nods once.

I reach for the next sentence. An explanation. A promise. Anything that will put his face back where it was before Myrkviðr.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Baldr looks toward the door his brother used.

“No,” he says. “You were trying not to.”

He leaves through the passage.

Ketill exhales.

The sound is small but it still reaches every corner.

Asta moves her chair closer.

I stand before she can touch me.

The table catches my thigh. Pain runs down to my knee.

“Sól.”

“I need a minute.”

“I’ll come with you.”