Page 113 of Storm of Fury
She glanced at the wooden puzzle he’d found in a market some time ago and then looked back to the book. She liked little curiosities and clever little tricks, but he recognized her absorption and merely sat the puzzle to the side where she’d be able to see it once she’d finished her book.
“If you want, I can bring you some bread?”
She’d made a little nest in the corner with her favorite blanket, and someone—possibly her mother, Leah—had tucked one of the chairs in front of her, so she had her own little fort.
“Yes, please.” Kari glanced at the busy dining table the same way he looked at stairs. “And potatoes. I want potatoes.”
Tormund dutifully complied, before leaving her to her peace.
It was good to be home.
“So,” Nora said, handing around slices of bread and butter as Tormund sank into his chair. She settled an emotionless gaze upon Bryn that could have beat Haakon at his best. “How long have you been riding with Tormund?”
Bryn chewed thoughtfully on her slice of lamb, then swallowed. “Perhaps two weeks now. There was a quest we were both working, and it made sense to complete it together.”
“Two weeks.” Nora smiled blandly and passed the bread to Leah with a penetrating look.
Tormund kicked her under the table.
“You hunt dragons and kraken too?” Leah gave her the sweetest smile.
“I’m a mercenary,” Bryn told her bluntly. “I beard dragons in their dens and guard caravans of exotic items. I patrol warehouses when I’m paid to do so. I also accompany brides on their way to their prospective husbands. Sometimes I help them escape when the marriages are not to their satisfaction. And occasionally I hunt men who have stolen from villages—or worse.”
“And bring them to justice?” Leah asked.
Bryn paused, taking another thoughtful sip of her ale. “No. I bring justice to them.”
All the women nodded in approval, and Brunhild handed her a bowl of roasted potatoes with a smile. “More,” she insisted. “You must have a big appetite for such a strapping lass.”
Tormund put a hand over his face. “Aunt.”
My gods. This was worse than he’d expected.
“What?” Brunhild asked. “She is big and beautiful and has wonderful hips. And if my Haakon has been running you ragged, he has probably not had time to feed her either.”
Bryn stared at the potatoes as though she wasn’t sure what her hips had to do with it.
He knew. Oh, he knew.
“Many babies with those hips,” Brunhild said, stabbing a potato and putting it on Bryn’s plate. She added two more. “And they will be easy births—”
“Mother.” Even Leah seemed aghast.
Tormund sank his face into his hands. If he was lucky, Bryn would only flee into the night, never to be found again.
“I… do not think I will have children,” Bryn replied slowly, as though trying to work her way through a potentially dangerous conversation. “I’m a warrior.”
“It does not mean you will not be a mother too,” Brunhild said with a shrug. “Some of the women here are farmers, some are fighters, some have children, some do not.” She finally seemed to realize what she’d been saying. “You will have easy births if youchooseto have children. That is all. I know these things.”
It wasnotgood to be home.
“How did you learn to fight?” Mille demanded, and thank the gods for smaller, bloodthirsty cousins. “Who taught you the sword? Did you find it? Did you steal it?”
Bryn gave her a smile as if relieved to be drawn into a subject she could safely answer. “A sword like this is never found. It can only be earned. It was my mother’s once upon a time.”
Tormund swished a mouthful of ale. She rarely spoke of her past and deflected comments about it whenever they were made. Considering her history as a Valkyrie—he still knew relatively little about them and their kind.
“And she taught me how to use it,” Bryn continued, deftly stabbing a fourth potato and putting it on her plate, much to Brunhild’s satisfaction.
