“That can be arranged,” Jarl said.
“Juliet.” Fenrir flowed to my side, frowning. “Where are your boots?”
“I gave them to another girl.” All the girls had grown since coming to the Berserker’s mountain. Here we had food every day, and often it was meat. I could not fault the warriors for that. Little Clover and Aspen’s eyes were bright and their cheeks rosy. Juniper had grown a foot in less than two moons. I’d given my boots to her.
Jarl tsked. “We would give you what you need. You’ve only to ask.”
“I wouldn’t dream of disturbing you with such a request. Surely you have more important things to do.”
“Nothing as important as seeing to you.”
Jarl moved in front of me on the path. I halted before I slammed into him. To my surprise, he knelt and set the bucket aside. His hand closed around my ankle and tugged. I went off balance and would’ve landed on my behind if Fenrir hadn’t caught me in his arms.
“What are you doing?” I squawked.
Jarl frowned as he examined my feet. “You need to wear your boots. It’s not summer anymore.”
“Don't touch me,” I snapped.
“You care so much for others, Juliet. But who will care for you?”
He let me go and Fenrir helped me to my feet. I moved away, clutching my cloak around myself as if that would protect me.
“Calm yourself,” Jarl had the audacity to chuckle. I clenched my fist to keep from slapping him. “You have nothing to fear.”
“No?” I rounded on him, snarling. “Then tell me, what is the purpose of holding us? Why did you bring us here to this mountain?” I knew the answer, of course, but all the anger I’d felt since that night in the abbey bubbled over.
“We seek women who can break our Berserker curse. You know this. Without a mate, we will go mad.”
“And if we do not wish to be mates?”
Jarl cocked his head to the side. His gaze roamed up and down my form, and heat filled me, unbidden. “Give us a chance, little wife. You will be wanting and willing in no time.”
I drew on my rage and let it armor me.
“You invaded our home and took us for brides,” I snapped. “Some of these girls are no older than eight or nine summers. You would join them with warriors thrice their age?”
“There are many places where this is the custom,” he chided, and I flushed. I knew that was true. I’d lived all my life in the abbey, but I knew the ways of the world.
“They are so young.”
“Never fear, Juliet. The young ones are safe. You are safe.” He drew close. If I wanted, I could reach out and touch him. Trace the lines of his tattoos up his arms, and see how much skin they covered.
I locked my hands under my arms. I’d vowed to remain chaste and pure. Why, oh why did my palms ache to touch him?
“We wait until the spaewife is in heat,” Fenrir explained. “Then the warriors will be allowed to court her.”
“In heat?” I wrinkled my nose, unsure what he meant.
Jarl grinned and started to answer, but Fenrir cut him off. “The heat comes when the spaewife is ready to mate.”
“And if the spaewife is never ready?” I asked quickly.
“Then she need not fear.” Fenrir shrugged. “No warrior will touch a spaewife without permission. On pain of death. The Alphas have decreed it.”
I blinked and all my ire left in a rush. “Well, then, that is good.” The spaewives had told me this before, but I doubted them. Hearing Jarl and Fenrir confirm the Alphas’ decree calmed me.
“Is that all you wish to rant about, little wife?” Jarl’s eyes sparkled. “Or do you still wish to do battle?”
“Why do you call me wife? I am not a wife and never will be.”
“No?” Gold flared in Jarl’s eyes. He raised his head and sniffed the air in a smooth movement that reminded me of an animal. A wolf on the hunt.
My stomach fluttered and I smoothed my hands over my dress.
“I have a question,” Fenrir said. He rarely talked, but his deep voice commanded attention.
I turned to him. “Ask.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Jarl’s jaw hardened. I took perverse pleasure ignoring him in favor of the taller warrior.
Fenrir sat on a rock so he no longer loomed over me. “Why do so many of the orphan girls bear names for trees and flowers?”
Finally, an easy question. “Some girls came to the abbey as babes, with no names. The nuns named them. Sister Theresa named the first few for herbs, and the others followed convention.”
Fenrir nodded, his face solemn as if I’d spoken a great secret. His gravitas encouraged me to sit on a nearby rock and explain further. “In the case of Rosalind and her sister, Rosalind had a name, and Aspen did not. She was too young.”
“And your name is Juliet,” Jarl butted in.
“Yes.” I became very absorbed in picking a few flowers, the last blooms of mountain rue.
“So you knew your family,” Jarl persisted.
“No. I was still too young. But I was old enough to be delivered with a name.” I tossed the yellow flowers aside.
“Why did—” Jarl started to ask, and Fenrir cut him off with a mere shake of his dark head. Jarl subsided into silence with a muted snarl.
Strangely, it did not feel wrong to sit here in the morning light in the company of these Berserkers. Fenrir leaned down and snapped off a long stemmed daisy. He presented it to me and I took it, bringing it to my lips to hide my smile. I could feel Jarl tensing up, ready to explode.
“Fenrir,” I said. “That means “wolf.”
The ‘wolf’ in question dipped his head. I hesitated. These warriors, impossibly, were also wolves. And they had a third form, a monstrous shape I’d seen only a few times and at a distance, lurking in the woods. I wanted to ask after the Berserker curse, but couldn’t bring myself to. If the friar were here, he’d decry these men as demons.
I shouldn’t be curious. I should cross myself and try to pray.
Instead, I felt no fear, no dread of demons or hellfire. Only curiosity and the desire to run my hands through Fenrir’s long hair.
“Jarl’s mother chose his name against his father’s wishes,” Fenrir said. His voice was light, teasing, and he gave a rare smile. “Perhaps, if you ask nicely, he will tell you why.”
“Why?” I asked Jarl, who was glaring at Fenrir. The long-haired man laughed softly.
Jarl cleared his throat. “She thought I would become a jarl. An earl,” he translated the word into my tongue. “A lord among men.”
“Were you an earl’s son, then?” I asked, confused.
Jarl cursed and Fenrir laughed outright.
“You are wise, little mother,” Fenrir told me. Giddiness spread through me at his soft praise and heated gaze.
“Juliet,” a girl’s voice called, and I cursed under my breath. Meadow and Fern stood in the door of the lodge. Meadow shaded her eyes, looking for me. I jumped to my feet before they could see me seated and conversing with these men.
“I must go.” Once again, I reached for the buckets but Fenrir beat me to it. I drew back before our hands could touch.
“Are you frightened of us?” he asked, lifting both buckets.