Chapter Thirty-Five

Thorvald’s Anger

Outside, Ozrik and Hrolf dumped Thorvald on the ground. The hard-packed dirt jolted his body, but in the torment of his crazed state, Thorvald was numb to bodily sensation.

“Sit on him.” Ozrik pointed down. He pinned Thorvald’s chest and arms, while Hrolf took the legs.

“What do you think you’re doing? Isn’t this what everyone wants from me?” Thorvald drew huge breaths of the cool air as if he’d been suffocating. The night was clear and the outside was a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness and smoke inside. But not at the cost of leaving Alodie with the jarl.

“This is no way to get what you want.”

“He silenced the law giver by slicing his throat, and he has her.” A downdraft made the needles in the trees whisper and it whirled loose strands of hair around Thorvald’s face. “He doesn’t think he has to live or abide by our customs. He’s no better than putrefied snake guts.”

“I will not argue against that.”

“I’m going to fight him.”

“Alone? He has eleven well-paid men by his side who won’t stand for that. You’ll be dead before you’re close enough to nick his chin with your sword.”

Thorvald finally kicked Hrolf off, then twisted out of Ozrik’s grip. He rose to standing, brushing himself free of dirt and debris. “Either you’re with me or against me.”

“There’s far more to it than that, and you know it, you stupid swine.”

“Go back inside and enjoy the feast with the rest of them.” The sky began to hurl fat raindrops upon the earth. Thorvald brushed the wetness from his brow.

“And leave you alone to foul things up more? Not a chance.”

“Good.” Thorvald drew his sword. What was wrong with him was he’d done something from which he could never recover. And now the jarl expected him to walk away and pretend his land still mattered?

He wanted to fight. He wanted blood. Years and years he’d trained for nothing else, all to regain what had been stolen. “Part of me was hoping you’d say that.”

Ozrik pushed to standing. He neither glanced at the weapon nor pulled his own.

“But you’re lucky today, old friend.” Thorvald swung the blade through the air for emphasis. “I’ve neither the time nor the inclination to dispatch you. The longer she’s alone in there with him, the more dangerous it becomes for her. And if he dares to touch her…” He raised his sword and, for the second time that night, thrust the tip against Ozrik’s neck. Hrolf audibly gasped. Thorvald hadn’t pushed hard enough to draw blood. But the point was made. “I’m holding you accountable.”