Page 22 of Heart of Fire
Thought raced through his amber eyes, but then he merely smiled and slid his hands into his pockets. “I will bid you adieu then. Until we meetagain.”
“I doubt that,” shewhispered.
Somehow he heard her. “You should not doubt fate, Freyja. That is like spitting in hereye.”
Freyja shivered, one hand on the inn’s doorknob. She could not escape this mysterious man fast enough. “I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in anything I cannot touch with my own hands, or see with myeyes.”
Rurik turned to eye the storm. “Why does that not surprise me?” His smile widened, or the half of it she could see did. “Run, Freyja. You might not believe in fate, but I do. We will meet again. I am certain of it. And when wedo....”
He looked back toward her, amber eyes ablaze in the darkness of the storm, and Freyja jerked the door open. That look in his eyes spoke of inevitability, and she had the breathtaking feeling she wanted to run toward it, throw herself off thatcliff.
She no longer knew whether she could trust herself. Not when Rurik was involved. For she wanted something only he could give her, and while a part of her yearned, just once, to touch the sun, another part of her remained wary. Perhaps he could teach her what passion felt like, what love felt like, but there was always the risk he might shatter her well-protected heartinstead.
And she’d long known what it felt like to have your feet swept out from under her, time and timeagain.
Freyja ducked inside the inn, shutting the door and pressing her back against it. A rush of exhilaration swept through her veins, and she couldn’t, for the life of her, understandwhy.
Fate,indeed.
Seven
THE SMALL VILLAGEnear Freyja’s house bustled with excitement as she drove Hanna past. Dozens of nearby farmers strode about the village green, and the enormous wagon that housed the dragon hunter’s ballista loomed nearby. It had beaten her here, and so too had most of Haakon’s men. Sweat foamed on their horses’ flanks, and she saw one man leading his bay and patting its velvety nostrils as its head hung inexhaustion.
“Shame on you,” she muttered. Pushing horses like that so hard on this treacherous terrain would only end in tragedy at some stage. It wasn’t as though Haakon could mount an assault on Krafla immediately, so it made little sense toher.
The dragon hunters were clearly distinguishable from the locals; hard men, wearing furs draped across their shoulders and chain mail beneath. Clearly mercenaries Haakon had scraped together, and she had to wonder where, precisely, he’d found them. Especially when one of them shot her a darkleer.
“Mistress Helgasdottir,” someonecalled.
It was tempting to pretend she hadn’t heard. She kept her gaze straight ahead, wishing Hanna would move a little faster as a blur of movement shifted in the corner of hervision.
“Freyja!” the voicebellowed.
Curse him.Freyja reluctantly eased Hanna to a halt, just as Benedikt caught hold of her bridle. The young ram in the cage on the back of the wagon bleated inshock.
He wore his finest coat, but after seeing Rurik in all of his glory, it looked a pale imitation. Benedikt was tall, his muscle soft and his face pale and pampered, with round cheeks and a boyish look that did not fade with age. He often reminded her of a petulant child deprived of some toy. The problem was he and his father considered the village and its people tobethattoy.
Particularlyher.
“What do you think of the news?” Benedikt demanded, his eyes alight. He continued before she had a chance to reply, as usual. “We’re going to take back our lands, Freyja. Father and I intend to drive the creature from Krafla. Or killit.”
“Let us be honest,” she interrupted, before he could descend into one of his infernal monologues. “You’ve hired a man toattemptto kill thedreki. I’m not entirely certain whether the curseddrekiwill think those dragon hunters a nice little gift to assuage his temper, considering you’ve been breaking the tithe and owe him several months’ work of meat, or whether he will take serious affront at this notion, and burn our village to the ground. There’s a reason we bargained with him in the firstplace.”
Benedikt’s fleshy lips pursed. He might have been handsome, in a sulky way, if the interior of the man weren’t quite so repulsive. “You always see the worst outcome. At least my father and I are doing something about this menace. And I have faith in Haakon and his men.” His lip curled in a sneer. “You would too, if you knew what faithmeant.”
A vague threat. Hanna jerked in her traces, and Freyja took the moment to settle the flighty mare—and her own temper. One of thesedays....
“Your father thinks it’s a good idea,” Benedikt continued. “I spoke to himyesterday.”
That ignited her temper. She didn’t want Benedikt anywhere near her father, where he sought to please with a honeyed tongue and silver lies. Sometimes he laughed at her, knowing her father couldn’t see her frustration when Benedikt was playing the charming localson.
“Leave my father out of this. He is notwell.”
“You coddle him. He’s a man, Freyja. Not an invalid for you to siphon away hiswill.”
“The only leech here is the one I’m looking at,” Freyjaseethed.
“Ah, Mistress Helgasdottir,” Haakon called, distracting both of them. He strode across the green. “Have you reconsidered? Are you here to inform us of the layout of the wyrm’slair?”
