Page 79 of Scornful

"I want to go," Ingrid whispers beside me. "Bjorn... we're..."

"I know," I murmur. "But it's only immediate family right now. We'll go later, okay?"

She nods, tears sliding down her cheeks.

Sixteen years old and she’s facing this, witnessing how horrible loving someone in this life can be.

I know exactly how she feels.

"You two, come help me in the kitchen," Mom says, and I follow gratefully.

It’s better for us to stay busy.

We work in silence for a while, making sandwiches no one will eat, brewing coffee that'll go cold.

Yet the ritual of it is soothing.

I don’t know how much time passes before the hum of bikes pass through the gate.

I'm moving before I think, drawn to the door like a magnet.

He's there, swinging off his bike, and even across the room I can see the darkness in his eyes.

There's still blood under his fingernails.

I know without asking whose it is.

Our eyes meet, and he mouths:

Need to talk.

Something's wrong.

I can see it in the set of his shoulders, the grim line of his mouth.

Runes' voice booms across the room: "Kirkja. All patches. Now!"

The men file toward the meeting room, faces serious.

This is it—the war we've all been feeling coming.

Things were serious with Tindra almost being kidnapped, and then with Flora’s death, but now… now things are on an entirely different level.

I watch Geirolf disappear through the door, feeling the magnitude of what’s happening here.

Last night I declared myself publicly.

Today, I became a true ol' lady—waiting while my man handles club business, holding down the fort with the other ladies.

Watching Magnolia's world shatter, I finally understand: loving these men means accepting any day could bring heartache.

And, even though I’m terrified, I’m in this with him.

I love Geirolf, and I’ll be here with him no matter what.

The chapel door slams shut, leaving us women to wait once more.

But this time, I'm not just the VP's daughter watching from the sidelines.

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