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“Fine. But just know that I bite back,” I say as he pulls the blanket over us, his arm lingering around my frame.
“Oh, I’m counting on it.” His words are barely a whisper, his warm breath tickling my ear.
My body tenses and tingles as my head spins. I barely had any wine tonight, but I am completely intoxicated in this moment. His fingers graze the curves of my hips, his hand stilling as it cups the swell of my thigh. The anticipation of what will happen next runs wild through every inch of me.
After a moment, he chuckles and removes his arm, resting it against his stomach instead.
I stifle either a groan or a laugh, I’m not sure which. He knows full well what he is doing, and I almost call him out on it when I hear the soft rhythmic sounds of his even breaths and realize he’s fallen asleep.
What. A. Bastard.
I shake my head slightly, trying to calm my racing heart and still the embers within me that are begging to be set ablaze.
Taking several deep breaths, I put out the lantern and try my best to fall asleep.
It doesn’t take long, for a change, but I’m haunted by dreams of my sisters. Rose-colored blood pools at my feet, and I cry out, but there is no sound. I’m helpless and trapped and too far away to protect them, as a voice I know all too well repeats over and over, “You have failed me again.”
I thrash and kick, trying and failing to let out a scream when a heavy, comforting weight settles over me. A gentle shushing sounds in my ear, and the images go black. All is calm and still again.
Any peace that was found in the night, any respite from those nightmares, however, is completely gone by the morning.
I wake up shivering, despite being covered in furs. Einar is gone and Khijhana has resumed her pacing.
I stretch and am about to make my way out of the igloo to find my husband when he pushes his way in instead. Something in his stance immediately puts me on edge.
His back is ramrod straight, his expression etched with anger. He moves toward me, tension radiating off him like the air just before a thunderstorm.
Khijha is quick to move between us, her eyes wide and her haunches raised. I reach out a hand to touch his arm, and he glares at it as if it’s offensive.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, pulling back my hand.
He stares at me, searching for something in my eyes before grunting at whatever he sees there.
Suddenly, I feel like I am standing bare before him again. But instead of the feelings the memory brought on last night, I feel only the sting of rejection.
“Einar --”
“It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head. “I have things to attend to before we head back. I’ll meet you at the sled in a few hours.” With that, he turns to leave.
Any sign of the cold I felt upon waking is gone now. I thought we made progress last night, that we might have even drawn a little closer, but these walls he’s thrown up again in the light of day remind me why I never wanted that to begin with.
Once I’m finished furiously washing my face, brushing my teeth, and smoothing my hair into a braid, I decide to head back out to the festival. Though the last thing I want to do is be in a crowd, it’s not like I have much of a choice unless I want to spend my day hiding in this tiny space and giving the people even more cause for judgment.
As soon as I emerge from the igloo, several shop owners call out to me, displaying their wares and begging for my attention.
I know Einar told me to spend all of the coin to help out the villagers, but I can’t help the inclination to save some back, just in case I may need it later.
I politely thank the vendors and keep walking, my thoughts running rampant. I hate seeing the disappointment in their faces, but I need to be smart.
It isn’t until I am walking away from the last tent that I hear a raised voice and the whimpering of a young woman.
On high alert, I glance around until my eyes settle on one of the vendors who I had refused. A young girl was trying to sell grooming gear for hestrinn, and I had brushed her off, too lost in my own thoughts to pay her much attention.
Her father, or employer, is now berating her. He raises his hand to strike her, the blow landing before I can even cry out. He’s careful, though; he thinks he’s hidden from sight behind their tent and between the rows of other vendors.
It’s too much to take.
I stalk toward them, willing myself to be calm as I approach, but under the surface lies a roaring blaze of fury.
