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“Just for tonight,” Ere wheedled.
“There is no purpose.”
“Sure there is,” he rebutted. “I bet Kai would love seeing you in a dress with your hair down.”
A telltale pause as her breath hitched.
But the woman was stubborn as a mule. Maybe he should have tradedherinstead of the hairy ass. Alas, he didn’t think she’d bring a higher price, what with that sour demeanor of hers.
“It matters not what he likes or doesn’t like,” she said. “I am who I am.”
Gods! She was so difficult!
Ere resorted to the big guns.
“Don’t you want to see him smile again?”
Her eyes shot to his alertly.
Bingo.
“I saw how you looked at him when he did. Smile, that is. It’s a rare treat, I admit. He used to smile more when we were dragons together. All teeth. That’s the first I’ve seen him really smile these days. Granted, we haven’t been reunited for long. But I can tell he’s different. All these incarnations and deaths have changed him.”
“None of that matters to me,” she said. But she didn’t sound so certain of it.
“Mmhmm,” Ere hummed as if he believed her.
“Well, it’s up to you what you want to do. If nothing else, you have a hot bath and a change of clothes waiting for you. I got you nice comfy boots too.Très chic.I’m off to find Sorin now; we have our own barn a few houses down. Supper is back here at the longhouse in an hour if you’re hungry.”
He backed away with a salute.
“Until then, toodaloo!”
Ere hid his smile as he walked away. By the thoughtful look on the Valkyrie’s face, at least some of his words had penetrated that thick, stubborn skull of hers.
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
“There is a prophesy in these lands,” the white-bearded old man said.
Perhaps he was a skald, or perhaps the village elder, and possibly both. He was holding court in the middle of a ring of stools and benches beside the fire pit, puffing on an ornately carved pipe. He held his audience enthralled with whatever tales he was weaving.
Eir circled the edges of the longhouse, staying to the shadows, trying to blend into the woodwork.
She already regretted her outfit and loose locks. She felt naked and exposed without her armor. The only thing that gave her small comfort was the dagger she’d strapped around her thigh beneath the flowing skirt.
What a nuisance.
The tunic dress she wore felt ridiculously excessive. Too much fabric getting twined about her legs, impeding movement. Too much color to attract attention. It was dyed a rich burgundy hue that contrasted sharply with her black hair and pale skin, making her stand out like a Bullfinch amongst brown wrens.
Her fur-lined cloak was even more ostentatious. It kept her warm but confined her arms. She couldn’t imagine suddenly unsheathing her sword from beneath this obstruction. It would undoubtedly catch in the folds, trapping her, while making her an easy target for the enemy.
She hated it.
Why must there be so much cloth? With all these unnecessary pleats and ruffles? Why did the neckline dip so far down, exposing all of her throat, the tops of her shoulders and half of her chest?
As if to say—look here! Perfect target for stray arrows.Even a half-blind archer couldn’t miss.
And then there was her silly hair.
