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Andor returned to his food. “Maybe you are telling the truth,” he mumbled through a full mouth. “No warrior would ever consider avoiding meat and butter. Are you going to eat that?” He nodded with his chin towards the second bowl of stew.
Cathy gave it to him, though her mouth watered. Ah, what she wouldn’t give for a vegan ramen noodle soup. “I’m not a warrior.”
“No? You look like a shield-maiden. Who are you, then?”
Cathy was not sure if this was a compliment or an insult. Andor’s gorgeous eyes traveled up and down her body, igniting her skin under her clothes. Did he approve of her being a female warrior? Surely not. Hadn’t feminine women always been considered more attractive?
“I teach yoga.”
“What?”
“Yoga helps strengthen physical, mental and spiritual abilities. It’s from India.”
Andor stopped chewing and studied her. “You speak my language and yet your words make no sense. Why do people do yoga?”
“To stay fit, to connect with their inner self. To live a happier life.”
Andor shook his head. “To stay fit, you train as a warrior or work hard on the farm. You make a sacrifice to keep close to the gods. And you play a hnefatafl if you want to stay mentally sharp. What you are describing sounds like a waste of time.”
Again, he was insulting her, rousing in her the compulsive need to make him like her, approve of her, tell her that she was doing great. The way Brad had always praised her. “It’s not a waste of time. There’s always a waiting list for my classes. People love me. I help them decompress from their office jobs and stay fit and healthy.”
He snorted and returned to his bowl. “Maybe you are from the future. Even Loki wouldn’t be able to come up with this nonsense.”
Cathy clenched her hand around the bread she was holding. She suppressed the urge to throw it at him. Keep calm for Brad, she reminded herself. She needed to find out how to get back.
“Look,” she said. “Let’s pretend for a moment that I’m telling the truth. I traveled in time from the future, and now I need to find a way to get back. And I must go back as soon as possible or my fiancé, Brad, might die. What do I do?”
He frowned. “Was he wounded in a battle?”
“He was wounded while surfing. He—he’s in a coma. I mean, paralyzed, and they keep him alive, although unconscious. But his parents want to stop his life support, and I’m the only one who doesn’t.”
Andor let out a long sigh and shook his head. “You are lucky you are pretty. How does that fiancé of yours endure your mad speeches?”
A flush of heat broke through her face, and, unable to stop herself, she threw the bread at him. He laughed when it hit him in the shoulder. How could he give a compliment and yet insult her at the same time?
“More for me.” He took the piece.
Cathy stomped her foot. “I’m not crazy. And Brad loves me.”
“Like I said. Pretty.”
Cathy grunted. She needed to keep cool. She took a long, slow breath, filling her lower lungs then upper lungs. She held her breath and counted to three then slowly exhaled. Better. Now she could think again.
“What do you suggest I do?” she asked.
He studied her and warmth spread through her skin where his eyes touched her. “All right. If you were telling the truth, it sounds like a Norn sent you here by giving you her golden spindle.”
Cathy frowned. “A Norn? Does she have something to do with destiny? I think I remember that name from Norse mythology.”
“Yes. Norns spin people’s fates.”
Cathy covered her cheeks with her hands. “Destiny… Surely, my destiny is not back in the Viking Age! I belong with Brad. I must go back. How do I do that?”
Andor shrugged one shoulder. “I am not a gothi or a völur. I do not know.”
“What is a gothi, and what is a völur?”
“Are we still playing the game where you claim you do not know basic things? All right, let us keep pretending. A gothi is a priest, a völur is a witcher.”
