Page 254 of The Sun He Buried

“Try.”

A white body drops from the rafters.

Snowpetal hits him horns first.

Both points drive into the side of his throat.

The knife leaves my skin.

He falls against the chair, tipping it onto two legs. Snowpetal clings to him. Her talons open his coat, and the club-tail strikes the floor beside my ankle.

Blood pours over her horns.

The red thins across the white surface, then disappears into it.

She holds him there and feeds.

His hands stop clawing at her.

Snowpetal pulls her horns free.

She steps onto his chest, climbs my skirt, and curls into my lap.

Her whole body begins to purr.

Blood coats her face.

“Baby.”

The purr gets louder.

“You can’t do that and then sit down.”

She kneads my cloak.

One wet paw presses into my stomach.

Fine.

Varrik stares at her.

The command goes out of his face.

He knew she existed. Knowing hasn’t helped.

Snowpetal closes her eyes.

Outside, the last sword falls.

Baldr enters first.

Eirik follows.

Varrik pulls me backward by the chair. The short leg catches, and pain tears through my bound ankle.

Eirik feels it.

He stops.