Page 234 of The Sun He Buried

Pain catches between my thighs. My hip aches where I hit the table, and the broken fastening scratches my skin.

Last night happened.

I chose it.

I’d choose him again.

Baldr’s face at the long table comes back so clearly that I bend forward and press both hands over my eyes.

Did you want me to kiss you?

I wanted to.

That’s not what I asked.

He’d have stopped.

I let him kiss me because telling the truth in front of Eirik would hurt him.

After that, I went upstairs and gave Eirik every truth I had kept from Baldr.

Brilliant.

I’m very good at protecting people.

Snowpetal rolls onto her side and opens one eye.

“Don’t start.”

Her purr begins.

“I mean it.”

She stretches until both front paws touch my knee. One talon catches in the blanket.

I free it.

“I’ve made a decision.”

Snowpetal yawns.

“You could try to look concerned.”

She closes her eyes.

I get out of bed and open the shutters.

Myrkviðr’s gone white. The storm buried every roof to its dark edge, filled the yard flat, and bent the pines nearly to the ground. Above all of it the sky’s blue from ridge to ridge. Full blue. Clean and cold.

Road weather.

My stomach drops.

Open road means they leave.

The Hall’ll wake any minute. Asta with her lists. Baldr checking the wagons have blankets. Ketill counting his seals. Eirik behind his silver somewhere, feeling it every time I look at him.

And Baldr getting ready to ride home like I’m coming with him.