A Heart of Fire (23 page)

A
cough sounded from the far corner, startling her, and Finna paused.

"Grahund,"
she whispered from under her hand, taking another cautious step within.
"Bailish?" Finna grimaced and forced herself to lower her hand so she
might speak clearly.

"Finna,
is that you?" came a hoarse reply.

Grahund.

Thank
the gods, he
was
alive.

A
chain rattled in the dark, and Finna followed the sound, stepping carefully
across the small, one room dwelling that seemed much larger in the inky dark.

"Aye.
Are you all right?" Her feet caught something, and she stifled a gasp as a
hand reached up in the dark and caught her leg. She skimmed her hand downward,
and her fingers brushed another hand. Finna knelt beside the battered warrior.
"Where is Bailish?" she asked in a whisper.

"Here,"
came a strangled answer from the opposite corner.

"He
is badly injured," Grahund said.

Finna
winced, remembering the image of the two in the hall, only then Grahund had
been the worse for wear. "Have they tended him?" she asked.
"What of you?"

"Someone
came earlier, but methinks they did no good," Grahund said with palpable
animosity. He winced sharply.

"They
beat us again when they took us outside," Bailish said.

Anger
suffused her. "Do you remember anything about them? The ones who beat you
unjustly?"

"Nay,"
Bailish said. "Grahund was unconscious already, and I … I had a little
fight left in me."

Finna
tsk'd
. "So what you are saying
is that you did this to yourself?"

Bailish
chuckled in the dark.

"What
were you doing here?" she asked and slipped the loaf of bread from under
her cloak and tore it in half. She nudged one piece into Grahund's hands, and
as he ate hungrily, she worked her way over to Bailish and gave him the other.

"It
should be obvious," Grahund said around large bites and gulped swallows.
"We came to take you back."

"How
did you know I was here?" she asked. Finna moved back to Grahund.

There
was a pause. "We followed Fang."

Finna
stiffened at the mention of her pet. "Fang is
here
?"

"Our
men reported following your owl to the edge of the fjord, but lost him when they
were forced to turn north toward the passage. He has not found you?"
Grahund asked.

Finna
blinked at the darkness, fearing for her owl. Fang had no shelter from the
cold, no nest to return to. Anger clouded her mind. She had thought Hanna would
care for him until she could return to reclaim her pet. How stupid of her!

"He
is an owl," she said tightly. "How can he be expected to find me?
Aldar did this," she said hotly. "He used Fang to
track
me?" Her tone held an
incredulous pitch.

Where is he?
she wondered.
He could be hurt.

"Do
not fret for your owl," Grahund said. His chains rattled as he moved
against the rushes and pushed himself up to sitting. "You must get us out
of here. I cannot stay in this place and be a slave. I am a
warrior
. You would not do this to me,
would you? After all the time we fought alongside one another, all the years we
have known each other."

Finna
shook her head in the dark, hardening herself. "I cannot free you! My
husband would be furious with me. I only came to see to your health."

And
to find out
what their plans had been.

"Your
husband
?" Grahund scoffed.
"Imagine that. The fierce shieldmaiden reduced to a simpering, obedient
wife in the matter of a fortnight. By the enemy no less." He scoffed.
"I bet he told you not to come here, didn’t he? What of his fury when he
finds you have come to us?"

Finna
flinched at his words and snarled at the man, though he could not see her.
"Do you not know the truth then? You tell me now, did you know Aldar was
not my true sire?"

Silence
met her request.

"Not
your sire?" Grahund asked.

Finna
retold the tale she had heard from Hadarr and her mother.

"Surguilde
lives
," Grahund said with
astonishment. "I did not know this, but I would have only been a boy when
this happened. If this is true—" He paused, struggling to sit up further,
grunting at the agony of his wounds. "Then you
cannot
return to Aldar under any circumstances," he said
tersely.

"Why?"

"He
already spoke of treachery. Some thought him addled, and others, like myself,
thought he was only angry to have found you gone. At first, he thought you ran
away. And then he went to your dwelling…"

"What
are you saying?" Finna asked.

She
jumped as the door burst open, and she whipped her head around to look over her
shoulder. Finna held up a hand to shield her eyes as the two guards pushed past
one another to enter, cold sunlight spilling in behind them in long pillars of
light.

"What
goes here?" one of the guards demanded, his sword drawn.

Finna
rose, holding her hands aloft. "'Tis only I, Finna. I wished to speak to
these men to find out why they were sent for me."

The
two guards looked between themselves, and then the one who had spoken clucked
his tongue and sheathed his sword. The other stepped forward in a few angry
strides and grabbed her up by the arm.

Finna
wrenched back, but to no avail. The bright sunlight blinded her, and he caught
her arm. His grip tightened, causing her to hiss at the sharpness as he began
to drag her forward.

"Your
husband shall hear of this, lady," he said gruffly when they were almost
to the door.

"I'm
sure," Finna grumbled. She cast one last squinted look over her shoulder
at Grahund.
What had he meant?
"I shall see what I can do for you," she called to him once the man
had hauled her from the building.

The
guard slammed the door before she could say aught else, and Finna shook her
head, blinking, straining to glare at him.

"Do
not try that again," he snapped, poking a finger in her face.

Finna
reared back, but then came forward, advancing on him and poked
her
finger in his chest. "Keep your
hands off me," she warned. "You would do well to remember that I am
the daughter of your Jarl." She took a sharp breath when she could see
clearly. "I've not forgotten
you
,"
she said with meaning.

He
only gave her a short laugh and then spit onto the ground. "And? What
shall the warrior woman do now?" He took an advancing step on her, but the
other man caught him with an arm to his chest and pushed him back.

The
man who had attempted to assault her sister scowled at Finna, the side of his
nose twitching in anger. He had not forgotten her either. She looked at the
side of his face where his skin remained marred, stretched tight over the
reddened scar the hot wax had left.

"Just
wait," he said quietly. "Wait until no one else is around."

"You
would be wise to keep your mouth shut," the other guard snapped at him.

He
only turned to glare at the man.

"Nay,
that is all right," Finna said, no longer afraid of the man. She glanced
back to her enemy. "
You
wait
until no one else is around." With that, she turned on her heel and
started for the longhouse.

Angry,
Finna stormed up the stairs to the sewing room, shouldering past a thrall
halfway. With each step, she became angrier, and by the time she reached the
room, she barreled in the door with a furious scowl.

Geera
jumped back at Finna's sudden presence and then gave her a worried look for her
demeanor.

Finna
frowned. "Trust me, you do not wish to know." She sighed and raked
her fingers over her hair. "Where is our mother?" she asked, with a
minute calm.

Geera
turned back to the loom as Finna came inside and closed the door to save some
of the warmth from the candles her sister had lit.

"She
is feeling the effects of the cold today," Geera said, making one last
stitch and then stepping back to admire her work. "Her bones ache, and she
has taken to her bed."

Finna's
frown deepened as she went to one of the candles and stretched out her hands,
cupping them around the orange glow. It was amazing sometimes how such a small
flame could give warmth in the deepest cold. Truly, she was surprised her
breath did not cloud inside as it did outside.

"I
did not know she suffered such an ailment," Finna said distractedly.

Geera
sat down the needle she had been using and turned to Finna. She stretched out
her hand. "Come with me and help to make a poultice for her. She will like
knowing you helped. I tire of the loom sometimes as much as you."

Finna
raised a brow at her sister, but came to her anyway, and the two of them left
the chamber and went down the hall to Geera's room.

She
shivered at the cold as Geera led her inside. Her sister went to a small table
just within the door and then started pulling dried plants from different
pouches and baskets. She set them all on the table as she sorted through them.
To Finna, they all looked the same, like dead sticks and roots.

Finna
began to pace whilst she waited, gaining a pointed look from her sister every
few minutes.

At
last, she paused in the center of the room and asked, "Have any of the men
bothered you again?" Finna's concern worked its way into her voice.

Geera
stopped just long enough to look at her. "Aye," she answered quietly,
and then smirked. "Not the same man though. This one's touches were not so
forced." Her smirk turned into a smile and then a blush.

This
put Finna at some ease, but left her slightly startled. "Something tells
me you did not mind so much this time."

Geera
sighed and handed Finna the pestle. "Nay, not so much." She looked
down, almost sadly. "Father would never hear of allowing me to wed Ragnarr
though."

"Ragnarr,"
Finna said. "Isn't he one of the men who came here from Valdrik's
village?"

"Aye.
He is a fine warrior, but Father thinks he is not bold enough to ever
lead."

Finna
frowned. "It seems to me Hadarr makes every excuse not to allow you to
find a man to wed."

Geera
sighed hard and rolled her eyes. "Perhaps."

She
would have to speak with her father about her sister's happiness.

Geera
tossed in some of the herbs and showed Finna how to grind them to make a paste.
It was not hard, and Finna found she did not mind the mixing of herbs so much.
It was a lot better than sewing or weaving.

"Why
did you wish to wed Valdrik?" Finna asked as Geera took the mortar and
pestle back to scrape the contents into a small, earthen bowl.

Geera
concentrated on the paste. "Because he is a strong warrior and I admired
him. He is the strongest man here." She paused and set the bowl in her
lap, cradling it with her hands as she looked at Finna. "And, he is
handsome, too. You are very lucky."

Finna
snorted. "Nay, I wish it had been you to wed him."

"You
say that now, but methinks you shall come to love him in time. You will realize
he is a good man." Geera reached out to pat Finna's hand.

Finna
was silent a long moment.

"Has
he touched you yet?" Geera asked, her cheeks pinkening.

Her
sister's blush became infectious and returned thoughts to Finna's mind of the
night before last. "Nay."

Geera
laughed. "Why does my question make you nervous?"

"Why
does it make you blush?" Both women laughed then. Finna sobered first.
"I do not think he wants me in that way." She scoffed at that
falsehood. He desired her, but not
her
.
Her body only. "I do not think he wants me at all."

"If
you ask me, I do not think he knows what it is he wants," Geera said.

"Why
do you say that?"

Geera
sighed, her shoulders drooping. "When I thought it would be me to wed him,
I always sought his attentions, but his were never forthcoming in return. He
never sought me out. It was like … like it did not matter to him that I was
there."

"Like
you could have been any woman?" Finna asked, glancing up at her sister.

"Aye,
exactly. And I know he shared his body with other women,
but
we were never actually promised to one another."

"I
am sure his attentions to others still hurt you anyway. I would not have allowed
that. I would have put a blade—"

Geera
reached out and grabbed Finna's arm then. "Nay, do not say such things.
'Tis a woman's place to accept that a man can do what he wishes. You would do
well to learn that. If Valdrik should take another woman into his bed, you can
say nothing."