Page 52 of Lord of Fire and Ice

“But surely you must have an idea which of them you prefer,” Finn was saying.

Katla wiped down the low bench and handed the big kettle with the remnants of the porridge to Inga. “I haven’t given the matter any thought.”

“You must.” Finn handed his bowl to Inga as well.

“Not until I meet the third man.”

“About that…” Finn stood and pressed his mouth into a tight line. Something seemed ready to burst out of him, but he changed his mind at the last moment and swallowed the words back. “I need to see how that bull calf is doing this morning. Walk with me, sister.”

Katla followed her brother into the sunshine and strolled beside him on the path leading to the big stone barn.

“What’s wrong, Finn?”

“I didn’t want to say this before anyone else, but…we can’t find a third suitor for you.”

Katla laughed.

Finn didn’t.

Her eyes flared with surprise. “You’re serious?”

Finn spread his hands before him. “You’re not the most amiable person, you know. And your reputation for…strong-mindedness has spread throughout the islands. No one wants to marry a storm cloud, Katla. Not even if she comes with a fair holding.”

“Well, this is a stroke of luck. I didn’t want to marry again, in any case,” Katla said, tight-lipped. It stung to be rejected so roundly, but she couldn’t let Finn see that it hurt her.

The thwack of an ax biting into pine split the air. Brandr was chopping wood again. He’d already laid by enough to keep them all warm for the next two winters, but he finished his other work so quickly, she had to keep wood splitting on the list to keep him busy.

“But not having a third suitor is no cause for concern. You can still marry. There are two good men who’ll have you, and that’s more choice than most women get,” Finn said. “All you need do is choose.”

“I need do nothing.” She picked up her pace as Brandr and the woodpile came into view. Pity they had to pass him by on their way to the barn. “I agreed to pick from three suitors, not two.”

“But Katla—”

“No, Finn. You and I struck a bargain. I intend to hold you to it.” She stomped by Brandr without a sidelong glance. “And there’s an end.”

“All right,” her brother called after her. “Brandr Ulfson is your third choice.”

She whirled around. “You’re not serious.” If he thought to force her hand by offering Brandr, when he must know a thrall wouldn’t be considered, Finn was sadly mistaken.

“I am,” Finn said with stubbornness. “You must choose between Albrikt Gormson, Otto Sturlson, or Brandr the Thrall.”

Brandr stopped chopping in mid-swing and turned toward them. He’d removed his tunic for work. Sweat ran down his bare chest in runnels, accentuating the smooth mounds of muscles beneath his taut skin.

“But he’s a slave,” Katla said. “He can’t marry.”

“Actually, princess, I can.” Brandr leaned on the ax handle, his expression as carefully bland as if they were discussing the weather. “You’d simply have to order me to marry you.”

If she’d been a cat, her back would have been arched, and she’d be spitting mad. Order him to marry her, indeed.

“There, you see. Problem solved,” her brother said. “Unlike the other men we’ve tried to interest, he can’t say no.”

“Finn!” Katla scurried back to him and whispered furiously, “Brandr Ulfson is not a valid choice. I cannot marry him, and you know it. You’re still giving me only two choices.”

She was the lady of the house. It would destroy her standing to wed a thrall. Not to mention the embarrassment of having to order him to do it.

“If memory serves, all you required was that none of your prospective suitors be fools,” Finn said. “You agreed to choose from three men in exchange for the son of Ulf as your thrall. You were there, Ulfson. Isn’t that right?”

“I wasn’t at my best that night, but that’s how I remember it,” Brandr supplied unhelpfully.