Fenrir eased into a stride beside me. He reached over to adjust the fur to cover Juliet more fully, then took her hand. “Do not worry for them. They have their own path. You have yours.”
“And my path leads straight to your lodge?” She glowered at Fenrir, but I noticed she did not pull her hand away.
I hitched her higher in my arms and their handhold broke. Maybe I did it on purpose, maybe it was a mistake.
The path curved around another crop of boulders. Instead of following it, I leapt up, holding her tight in my arms. She gasped and clung to me.
“Look down there,” I ordered. She did and squinted into the dark. I paced a little closer to the edge of the lichen covered rock.
Jarl, Fenrir said my name in warning, speaking into my mind.
It’s safe. She must see.
For a moment Juliet did nothing but squint into the dark. Then her body stiffened, and I knew what she saw—the magical boundary that ended at the foot of the cliff. The edge of the barrier that enclosed and protected the mountain. On one side, snow bitten rocks and grasses quivered in the wind. On the other, the ground was bare, trampled to mud by foul feet. The monstrous draugr marched along the boundary, at times pausing to press their rotting corpse bodies against the magical barrier and howl. The wind carried their moans away.
“See what we protect you from?” I asked quietly. I didn’t want to scare her, but this was necessary. She had to know.
She gulped. “What are they?”
“The Corpse King’s creatures. He is a mage of old. He seeks spaewives to marry so he can steal their magic.”
She shook her head, still staring at the undead horde.
“This is what we saved you from. This is why we took you from the abbey.”
“Jarl,” Fenrir warned. You’re upsetting her.
She is already upset. She thinks us monsters? Let us show her what monsters truly are.
Her trembling increased, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I leapt down to the path and started climbing again with long strides. “Come. We’ve lingered too long in the cold.”
Juliet
Inside the lodge, the scent of sawdust bit my nose. I sneezed just as Jarl set me down. He held on to me, and I pushed him away, sneezing again. I did not want his help.
“Juliet,” he murmured, but let me stagger away from him. I was no longer freezing—Fenrir’s fur robe had warmed me, and even though the air inside the lodge was not warmer, it was at least sheltered from the wind.
I turned in a slow circle, examining the place they’d brought me. This lodge was not unlike the lodge of the unmated spaewives.
They’d kidnapped me from my home now twice. First from the abbey, then from the lodge where they’d promised I’d be safe. They’d stripped me of everything I’d known.
All I had left were my vows, and even those they would leave in tatters.
I walked further into the lodge, aware of two large shadows stalking me. Jarl and Fenrir. The warriors who’d dragged me from the abbey, my home. Who sheltered and protected me.
I ignored them to explore the place they’d brought me to. There was a fire pit near the entrance. Stacks of wood and a few barrels lined the walls. At the back was a frame for stretching and drying furs.
In the middle of the lodge was a huge bed. Whole trees had been hewn to make it. It was piled high with furs.
I reached out and rubbed the polished wood, then sank my hand in the silky furs.
“Will you take me this night?” My voice was oddly detached. It would take nothing for them to strip me and lay me down on the bed, and claim me as I knew they wanted to.
What was worse, deep down, a part of me wanted them to.
Kyrie eleison. Christos eleison. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.
They’d brought me here to break my vows. If not this night, then soon.
I turned and faced them. They towered over me.
The warriors exchanged a look. I knew they communicated mind to mind, another form of sorcery I should renounce, but I was too tired.
“No,” Jarl answered. “Not this night, but soon.”
“Does he always speak for you?” I baited Fenrir. Perverse of me to pick at the silent Berserker, but perhaps I could turn him against Jarl. I needed every weapon I could gain.
“No,” Fenrir answered, and ambled out of the lodge.
“Where is he going?” I rubbed my arms under the fur Fenrir had given me.
Jarl tugged me close and rubbed my arms over the fur, chafing them until warmth rose. “He goes to fetch wood for a fire. Why did you poke at him? Were you trying to pick a fight?”
I flushed. Was I that transparent?
“Surely you must fight with him sometimes.”
Jarl shrugged. “Often. But he has been my brother for over a hundred years.”
I pulled away. “What is the magic that binds you? Is it evil?”
“You’ve seen us fight.” He crouched in the middle of the lodge to strike a blaze in the sooty pit. His muscles flexed and his eyes blazed gold. “You’ve seen us at rest. What do you think?”
“The abbess would say it is pagan magic.”
“Is all pagan magic evil?” He had a small fire going, and cupped his hands around it to protect it from the draft. His hands and face glowed like a demon’s.
“Yes,” I said, but my tone was unsure.
He looked up at me then. “Always?”
I raised my chin. “That was what I was taught.”
Slowly he rose, unfolding to his great height, towering over me. “And everything you were taught is true?”
With that troubling question, he left the lodge and I was alone. The fire crackled at my feet. Soon Jarl and Fenrir would return with kindling for it, but right now I could sneak out. This might be my only chance.
I ran to the back of the lodge. It was sturdily constructed, the boards so new, the wood hadn’t faded. It was bright and sawdust colored, with a few beads of sap dried mid-drip on the light surface.
There had to be a way out. There—in the corner. A narrow entrance that could easily be covered by a tapestry. A second exit along the back of the lodge.
I raced and would’ve stepped out, but before I could dart through it, a shadow moved in the darkness beyond. I shrank back, hand on my heart. Was it a wild animal moving outside the lodge?
Then the dark shape bent to duck inside the door. When it straightened, I recognized Fenrir. He’d caught me.
Silently, Fenrir moved inside the lodge, crowding me back toward the fire. There was a bundle of kindling under his arm.
I stared at the center of his bare chest. His skin was darker than mine and even Jarl’s, and not only from the sun. He was smooth, too, his muscles sleek without the mat of hair most men had.
I swallowed.
His finger came to my jaw. He traced up, a light touch, but enough to set my nerves simmering. “Do not leave,” he spoke in his deep voice. “It’s not safe, little mother.”
I frowned, still staring at the center of his chest. “Why do you call me that?”
“Little mother? Because you are little.”
“I’m not a mother.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No. I have remained chaste. I haven’t borne a child.”
“Tell that to the younglings in the spaewife lodge. You mother them all.” He moved past me, and knelt to feed the sticks he’d brought to the fire.