They made the village with barely an hour to spare before true dark.
Bryn’s belly was twisted in knots as she hesitantly followed Tormund. This was definitely not in the plan. She was supposed to be keeping him at arm’s length and yet at every step, she found herself sucked headlong into the maelstrom that seemed to surround him, hauling her ever closer to the man himself.
He was already a magnetic force.
Handsome. Amusing. Loyal. And steadfast.
Bryn closed her eyes, praying for strength. You’re not for him. Even if he seems like every one of your dreams breathed into life.
Because she would be nothing more than a weight around his neck.
And she had to keep reminding herself of that.
Cows lowed in the valley, and a dog came sniffing around their heels. In the distance iron rang on iron, and a curious woman glanced at them over the sheet she was pulling from a clothesline.
It was a scene of such perfect domesticity that Bryn immediately felt her hackles lift.
What was she doing here?
This was madness.
Every inch of her locked tight with tension. It was one thing for Tormund to say his family would want to meet her, another for them to actually realize what sort of woman she was. She’d seen the cool look in Haakon’s eyes whenever he glanced at her of late. That look told her she was not worthy of the man by her side, even though she already knew that.
Tormund didn’t know how lucky he was to have such good friends and family.
“That’s Nora,” Tormund told her under his breath, lifting his arm and waving at a face that peered through a window.
The woman vanished, as if she hadn’t expected to be seen.
“She’s the eldest and thinks her baby brother, Haakon, is a god made flesh. Whatever you do, do not disparage him. He shits solid gold kroner, according to Nora.” Tormund shifted the weight of his bag. “And Leah is the one hanging washing on the line. You may have faced the boldest of the gods, but if you break my heart she will come after you with a harpoon.”
Bryn shot him a shocked look. “I’m not going to break your heart. Because you’re not going to give it to me.”
He shrugged. “I’m just warning you.”
That wasn’t a no.
“Tormund,” she growled. “We said this would be just a quest—”
“It is just a quest.” He smiled at her. “And don’t look now, but the twins, Margit and Mille, have just seen you. Mille is going to want to know all about your sword. All she wants to do is follow in Haakon’s footsteps, but Margit is quiet and bookish. She won’t say much. And then there’s Arne, who’s more interested in farming than in women. He won’t even notice you’re here.”
“Tormund.”
“The last cousin is Linnea, but she’s probably out in the fields with the horses still. She’s the only one who won’t question how long you’ve been in love with me for. She’ll want to know if you can ride.”
“Tormund!” Bryn grabbed his arm. She’d been right. This was a trap.
“What?”
“Your family can’t think there’s anything between us.”
“Why?” He gave her that faint smile that dared her to play with him. “When we part ways, they’ll never see you again. They’ll probably mutter that you were never good enough for me anyway, and then they’ll try and invite me to gatherings where one of their ‘friends’ just happens to be searching for a husband. But you shall never have to see their censure. Why does it bother you?”
She swallowed. “Because… they’re your family. I don’t want… I….”
“Yes?”
She stared at him. She didn’t have the answer for that. He was right. These people would be strangers to her. But they weren’t strangers to him, and despite everything, she didn’t want them to think poorly of her. It was clear that Haakon’s family was desperately important to Tormund, and some foolish little part of her wanted them to like her.
Tormund waited patiently for her to form the words.
And for the first time in her life, she couldn’t find the courage. “I don’t… want them to hate me. Afterward.”
Thought darkened his eyes, but he merely nodded. “As you wish.”
And then he turned and strode toward the largest house at the end of the lane, his shoulders set and square, like a warrior walking to his doom.
Before he could even knock, a woman opened the door breathlessly, her graying hair bound back by a red kerchief. Her eyes slid over the pair of them as if looking for someone else, but then she rushed forward and hugged Tormund.
“Oh, my boy,” she cried, squeezing him so hard he actually grunted. “Where have you been? Where is my son?” She drew back and poked him in the ribs. “You are far too skinny! Who has been feeding you?”
“Aunt Brunhild.” Tormund dutifully kissed her cheek. “If I’m skinny, it’s because your son is a terrible cook. And he’s had to return to Iceland in a hurry, though if he knew we were coming here he would have wanted to linger.”
The woman huffed and puffed, circling Tormund and pinching his sides. “Haakon has been running you ragged. I can see it all over you.”
“He has.” Tormund gave her soulful eyes. “Barely feeds me. Barely lets me sleep. We’ve been off hunting dreki princes, and you know how he gets.”
“Bah! I thought his new wife would put a stop to such matters.”
“So did I.”
He played the poor, beleaguered cousin with such consummate grace Bryn suffered a moment of actual sympathy for Haakon.
“And who is this?” The woman graced Bryn with a radiant smile. Immediately Bryn could see where Haakon got his gray eyes from, but where his were cool and calculating, his mother’s sparkled with curiosity.
“This is Bryn,” Tormund said. “My traveling companion.”
“Travelling companion?”
It sounded so innocent.
It sounded like the jaws of a trap about to snap shut.
“I’m a… another dreki hunter,” she told the woman before Tormund could explain her presence. “Tormund and I are currently working together to track a missing dreki princess who passed through this way yesterday or the day before.”
“Bryn’s an excellent warrior,” Tormund added.
“Mmm.” Brunhild gave Tormund an inscrutable look. “You must be hungry. Come in! I will fetch your cousins, and we shall all dine together.”
“Oh, no.” Tormund held up his hands. “That’s not necessary. The girls will be busy. They have children. Husbands. Homes to tend—”
“Nonsense.” Brunhild put her hands on her hips. “The pair of you have been gone for so long that we barely remember what you look like. Dragon princess or no dragon princess, you will come inside this house and dine with your family, my boy, or I shall box your ears.”
“Dreki.” Tormund coughed. “Haakon’s wife will take offense if you call her a dragon.”
“Tormund.”
Though a part of Bryn felt a little wary of this entire excursion, she couldn’t help but find herself charmed. Tormund looked like a ten-year-old boy chastised for dragging dirt inside the home.
“Of course,” Bryn interceded. “We would love to dine with your family. I’m sure they have many questions for Tormund, and with night falling we can’t continue our journey.”
Brunhild brightened considerably. “Excellent! I shall send word. Come inside. Come inside.”
“It’s not as though you need to send word.” Tormund glared down the village street. “Nora and Leah are still peering through their windows.”
“Stop grumbling. And take your boots off.” Brunhild vanished inside the home.
“Smile,” Bryn told him.
“Don’t you laugh,” Tormund told Bryn with a scowl as he gestured her inside. “You’re the one who’s going to be subjected to the famous Haraldsson inquisition, and let me assure you, lesser women have trembled.”
“I’m not afraid of anything, big man.”
“No?” He leaned closer, resting his hand on the small of her back. “Trust me when I say that I would rather face a hundred draugar than Haakon’s curious sisters.”
Bryn rolled her eyes. “Then you’ve never lived with a hall full of Valkyrie with nothing better to do than polish their swords. There are no secrets in Valhalla.”
“Polish their swords?” He brightened. “Is that a—”
“No.” She rolled her eyes and shoved him through the door. “We call that ‘strumming the lute.’”
Dinner was a raucous affair.
Each of Haakon’s sisters brought some part of the meal with them, scolding him all the while for such an impromptu gathering, though Tormund could tell they didn’t mean it. Their husbands leaned back in chairs, sipping ale and talking of the weather and crops, and through it all, numerous children ran and giggled.
Little Kari sat by herself, quietly reading her favorite book, and Tormund stopped beside her to greet her with a smile and a few questions about the book. “Hello, my favorite,” he said. “Look at you, you’ve grown an inch.”
“Hello,” Kari replied, though her finger kept tracing the pretty illustration in the book and she didn’t look up.
“I bought you a gift,” he said, reaching inside his shirt. “But don’t tell the others. It’s a special gift, just for you.”
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 you choose to have children. That is all. I know these things.”
It was not good 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.
Bryn and Mille exploded into a conversation about the art of swordcraft, and he could see his cousin’s eyes getting bigger and bigger. The jury—the rest of his cousins—might still regard her with some suspicion, but Bryn had definitely won a convert.
“I can give you a lesson in the morning, if you’re awake early enough,” Bryn finally suggested.
Mille’s eyes lit up. “Really? Oh, I’ll be awake! I have my father’s old sword, the one Haakon gave me to spar with. He was starting to teach me how to use it before he left, but…. He hasn’t been home for such a long time.”
“I will give you some exercises to work through by yourself,” Bryn said.
Mille would barely sleep a wink that night.
“You’ve been quiet,” Leah murmured in his ear as Bryn started describing the different ways a woman fought, as compared to a man. “Though you can’t take your eyes off her.”
He swiftly lowered his gaze. “She’s a tall, strapping lass.”
“With wide hips,” Nora muttered, on the other side of him. “I can’t believe Mother said that.”
Leah dug her elbow into his ribs as she leaned across him for the bread. “Mother likes her.”
Leah, clearly, wasn’t so sure.
“She’s a good companion,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug. “She fights well, she doesn’t snore, and she’s braver than any woman I’ve ever met. Thinks beards are the devil’s work though, so she has her flaws. It will be sad to see her leave when we finish this quest. She’s quite handy.”
“Oh, please,” Leah snorted. “You’re fooling no one. Every time you look at her, your heart is in your eyes. And she’s going to break it.”
He pinched her on the thigh. “Don’t make me tip the potatoes in your lap.”
“I dare you.” Leah’s eyes spat fire. “Mother’s still not forgiven either of us for that last fight we had.”
“Leah’s right,” Nora murmured. “I know you, Tor. You’ve been searching for someone to love your entire life. You’ve always wanted something epic, something like what Haakon has. And as soon as you met Bryn, I have no doubt you fell head over heels.”
It took me a day or two.
“Is there anything wrong with that?” he growled.
Nora kissed his cheek. “You’ve always been afraid to be alone. You’ve always been afraid to be left behind. And I know my brother has found happiness. I know his life—and yours—has changed. He’s married to a dragon princess now—”
“Dreki.”
For goodness sake….
“And Haakon’s story is epic. I hear the men down at the tavern speak his name in hushed tones. You’ve idolized him for years, and now his path is diverging from yours. Don’t throw yourself into something just because you’re afraid to lose him. Be certain. Be sure. You deserve the best, Tor, and as much as I hate to agree with Leah, I think your lady love has her shields firmly in place. When Bryn looks at you, she looks like you just uncovered her mortal weakness. And when you look at her, you look like you’re on your knees, offering her your heart on a plate. Don’t beg for some small scrap of her affection. That’s the wounded, angry boy we once knew. You’re the man we love, and you are worthy of more.”
Tormund stared into his ale, swallowing hard.
Not once had he felt doubt when it came to Bryn.
Even when she’d told him that she was leaving when this quest was done. Even when she’d warned him that she would break his heart. He’d told himself that if he was patient enough, and gave her time… that she might come to feel the way he felt about her.
But Nora’s words cut the feet right out from under him.
And he saw himself as a boy—that angry, lonely boy—who craved kindness and loyalty oh, so much. The boy who watched Haakon from a distance, both worshipping him and hating him. The boy who learned to be funny so people would like him. The boy that gave his heart to his new family so completely, so desperately, that he could barely breathe sometimes.
“You love hard, Tor,” Nora whispered. “But don’t forget to demand that kind of love in return. Acceptance is not enough. Not for you.”
The children came running by at that moment—little Mathilde and Aksel. He snatched them up, tossing them over his shoulder and tickling them under the arms in order to hide the stab of pain in his chest.
And it was easy to slide his smile in place.
Easy to hide the gaping wound in his heart.
“They’re supposed to be going to bed soon,” Leah told him in an exasperated voice, rescuing little Matti from his tickling kraken monster.
He winked at her. “Oh, I know. Perhaps they’d like to hear the scary tale of the three draugar we fought?”
“No!” Nora and Leah both exclaimed.
“Then behave,” he mouthed to them. “And I will too.”
Nora squeezed his hand.
“Well,” Leah said, pushing back her chair with a squeal. “As lovely as this has been, I think it’s time to put the little ones to bed. Kari looks like she’s starting to get a little overwhelmed by the horde. And I’m sure Bryn and Tormund need to get some rest for their journey tomorrow.”
Mille’s face fell. “Really?”
“Really,” Leah told her.
“The sooner you sleep,” Bryn called from across the table, “the sooner we can spar.”
Mille brightened immediately.
“Do you have room for both of them?” Leah asked, turning to her mother innocently.
“Well, I’ve only got one room.” Brunhild frowned, as if in thought. “I’ve put all of the spare furniture in the others. And my sewing is in Haakon’s room. And—"
“We can sleep in the barn,” Tormund said in an irritable voice. “It’s what we’re used to.”
“Good heavens, no!” Leah looked aghast.
Nora’s jaw dropped open. “The barn?”
“I’ll have you know that my spare room—”
Bryn shot him a bemused look. “The barn will be fine.”
Half a dozen voices rose in protest, until Brunhild held up her hand. “The barn will be fine,” she said.
Every single one of his cousins looked at Brunhild as if she’d sprouted a dragon’s head. To house a guest in the barn was scandalous. To allow a family member to stay there was something that would have horrified Brunhild if someone else dared suggest it.
Even Tormund arched a brow.
Clearly his cousins weren’t the only ones matchmaking.
“The barn will be fine,” he told his aunt, tipping his head toward her. Maybe those words would reveal his hand, but Tormund was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“You understand why I prefer to hunt dragons?” Tormund asked, resting his head on the palm of his hand as he lay sprawled on a bed he’d made in the hay.
Bryn glanced at him, splayed there for her viewing pleasure. She’d always considered a man’s arms his best feature, and with his biceps flexed like that, she was having trouble keeping her gaze to herself. “I think they’re lovely.”
“Curious, nattering busybodies,” he said with a scowl. “Leah and Nora are the worst. They compete to see who can manage the family the most.”
Bryn turned away, trying to shield her expression. He didn’t know how carelessly he spoke of his family. It was evident they loved him, and he them, but he didn’t treasure them as he should. “There are many people who may look at what you have and consider them a gift, not a burden.”
Stripping off her trousers, she heard him shift behind her and knew her tone had been too sharp. Too revealing.
“Do you have family?” he asked.
She leaned forward and blew out the lantern, plunging them into darkness. “I did. Once.” Shimmying out of her shirt, she stripped her bindings from her breasts and then slipped beneath her blankets.
Once upon a time, she would never have lain naked beside a man like this, but she knew he wouldn’t touch her without her permission.
“I never thought about that,” he murmured in the darkness, rolling toward her. “You’re hundreds of years old. And here I am, regretting what you don’t have.”
“My family was never like yours.”
Her mother would never have cooked her dinner like that, nor would she have greeted any prospective suitor who sat at her table with politeness. Men made you weak, and food was a matter of necessity, not a social gathering.
You ate to survive, you slept in your barracks, and there were frequent tests to prove your worth. Sometimes her mother had sent her out into the snow to survive for weeks on end. Only a weak daughter desired blankets and warm food. If you couldn’t kill it, then you didn’t eat, and if you didn’t eat, then you couldn’t fight.
You never complained.
You never desired more.
To serve your god as his chosen warrior was the only calling you could ever aspire to, and even then, you would always have to prove yourself.
She was Kára of Valmar’s daughter, and she was not weak.
“You don’t speak of your family often,” he murmured, and she sensed the blankets shifting at her back. “Actually, you don’t speak of them at all. Nor your past.”
Bryn closed her eyes. “What is there to say? I was Valkyrie, and now I am not. I have no home. I have no family. Mortal blood flows through my veins. All I have is this.”
“Your blood is not weak, Bryn.” A hand came to rest upon her hip through the roughened blanket. “You’re the most amazing woman I have ever met.”
Her heart caught in her chest.
He barely knew the truth. He was still looking at her through a fantastical gaze, seeing something that wasn’t there.
She rolled onto her back, looking up at him in the moonlight. “When this is over, I will walk away and I will never think of you again. I won’t regret leaving you, Tormund.”
He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to her mouth. “I know.”
“Did you not hear me?” she demanded, her heart beating a little fast in her ears.
He held himself above her, resting on his elbows. “I heard you. But I don’t think your words were meant for me. I think you’re trying to remind yourself.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. He was such an infuriating man. “Do you always have to sound so certain?”
He hovered over her, the thin stream of moonlight picking out the contours of his jaw as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark. “I’m not certain sometimes, Bryn. Especially about you.” He hesitated. “But maybe if I say it enough times, then some god will hear me and breathe life into my wishes. Maybe this one time, I will get what I’ve always wanted.”
Bryn’s breath caught in her chest. There was no sign of his usual self-deprecating air. “And what do you want?”
He kissed her. Sweetly. And it was answer enough.
“I want to matter,” he finally said, lifting his mouth from hers. “I want someone to fight for me. Someone to think me worthy—”
“You are worthy.”
“Of them. I want forever in someone’s arms. I want… something of my own. A home. A family. A life. Love. Forever.”
Bryn couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. She stroked her fingertips against his lips as tears sprang to her eyes.
“And I want someone who is willing to fight for me,” he finally said, bending down but not quite kissing her. “I will give my heart, Bryn. Without reservation. But if I had one wish in the world, it would be this: For someone to love me the way that I love them.”
And then he captured her mouth with a heated kiss, as if he couldn’t bear to hear her answer.
Because not even Bryn knew what it would be.