Chapter Fifty-Four

One Last Time

Catching Alodie’s stare, the trance-like state that allowed Thorvald to do battle shattered. The weapon that moments ago had been an extension of his arm now hung by his side, nothing more than the cold, earthly element from which it’d been fashioned.

The jarl was on his knees before him, doubled over with the effort of coughing and sputtering. His hair hung limp in greasy strands and his front teeth had been knocked from his mouth. Blood so dark it was nearly black masked his face, like the true measure of the man was finally being revealed.

And Thorvald hadn’t killed him. He could have. But he didn’t. And wouldn’t.

All those winters imagining a moment like this one, he’d thought nothing would feel as satisfying as the jarl’s death. He’d imagined standing by his cousin as Sigurd delivered the final blow that would rid Thorvald of his bindings forever, his whole being echoing with freedom at last.

Leaving him alive to die disgraced and alone should have been far sweeter.

Somehow, it wasn’t. Because this wasn’t what he wanted. Only Alodie. Peace. Quiet. A warm fire, a full belly, ornery goats, and happy, mischievous children with rosy cheeks and their mother’s eyes.

It all seemed far away.

Hopeless, really.

He tried to inhale, but the air seemed thin and…odd. It was difficult to get enough of it.

Words came sifting back into Thorvald’s head, like grains of sand falling through the cracks of fingers, telling him who he was, what he wanted, and what he was fighting for. The information crept in the way mist curled over an open field and a hush fell like a woolen blanket over the world.

He combed his gaze over the battlefield. Bodies lay strewn about at various angles, bloodied and brutalized, eyes staring vacantly ahead toward nothing, in whatever direction they’d fallen. The sight soured his stomach.

In the sky above, the birds flew as if underwater, wings beating with strange slowness, each movement deliberate. Blood trickled down Thorvald’s forehead, a drop gathering and hanging from his brow for what seemed an eternity. When it fell, it defied everything he understood of how the world worked. Slowly…slowly…to land on his cheek, like a pin-prick.

Then, behind him, the waves of the ocean hit the shore with a crash. The illusion shattered.

He startled. The world seemed to somehow snap all around him. Like an arrow being let loose and the string of the bow twanging. All at once he was being shot back into an existence he didn’t know he’d been trying to leave. He inhaled a gasp of air and shook himself, taking new measure of his surroundings.

He realized the jarl was making a sound. Talking? Thorvald narrowed his eyes to focus. No, wheezing. He looked up at Thorvald. “Why are you doing this?” Coughing again, blood spattered from his lips. “I gave you everything. I protected you.”

The princess—no, Alodie…she was looking on. With her gaze on him and his gaze on the jarl, Thorvald found something in his depths he didn’t know he possessed. Mercy. Forgiveness. Or, at least—he shouldn’t get ahead of himself—the wish to extract revenge was gone.

Was it? He probed his thoughts, muddled and cloudy though they were in the jumble of confusion after fighting—somewhat like his tongue had done in his mouth when he was a child and lost his milk teeth. Completely absent…surprisingly so.

He turned his head this way and that. There was no escape from the carnage. And he wanted no part of it. What a foolish waste. They’d need to dig graves for those who’d woken this morning not knowing this sunrise would be their last. Was it the greed of men that brought them to such passes? Was it inescapable in their nature that their thirst for gold and blood would bring them here again and again?

“Stop,” he bellowed, the sound scratching his dry throat. “Stop!”

Those who were nearest halted first, lowering their weapons and spreading the message to the warriors farther away.

Thorvald stumbled as he tried to walk, his legs only able to support his weight through force of will. His heart thumped against his chest like the fist of an angry father upon the door of a good-for-nothing who’d absconded with his daughter.

He made his way toward her until he stood in front of her, trying to keep himself from swaying. She was the reason he’d fought like he’d never fought before. If he’d died, he’d have gone down knowing nothing else would stop him from seeing her again.

“We won.” His voice was rough from want of a cool drink. He wiped his sleeve across the blood and sweat and grit upon his brow. Though he was standing still, he teetered a little. “It’s over.”

She gave a slight nod, her hair whipping about her face. “I know.”

Thorvald’s body sang with the triumph of being alive. The morning shone upon the world, new and golden. The trees had never been greener. The water never bluer. The surface had never shimmered with such jewel-like beauty.

He collapsed at her feet.

…

By the side of the stream where she and Ozrik had rested Thorvald’s limp body, she rang the excess water out of a bit of cloth and began wiping his face clean. His head rested in her lap.

Clouds had gathered above and a rain began to fall, so lightly that the droplets were a mere dusting over the earth.

“He fought harder than any of us. He’s the reason we triumphed today.”

Alodie couldn’t look at Ozrik. If she did, she might burst into tears, and there was no time to lose to weeping.

They’d assessed Thorvald for wounds, cleaning the superficial cuts and scrapes as they went, but found nothing that appeared fatal. No gouges or stab wounds. Why wouldn’t he wake? A man of his physical abilities and stamina couldn’t simply die of exhaustion.

Could he?

Back at the beach, the living were preparing to care for today’s dead. Thorvald wasn’t among those they would bury, but he wasn’t among the living, either. He existed somewhere in the in-between. Which side would he choose?

Alodie crossed herself, folded her hands before her heart, and bowed her head in supplication. “I now know why You allowed me to be stolen away by these people.”

Her eyes had been well and truly opened. First she had to see past her own detrimental blindness. These raiders weren’t demons. They were people—as varied and individual as any in her own community. The jarl was hateful and selfish. Birna and Ozrik were very much not so. Hrolf was young with so much to learn about the world. And Thorvald…

Thorvald.

Alodie swallowed, holding back a wave of emotion pushing to escape from her in weeping and wailing.

He was the second reason the Lord had allowed her to be taken. Love. It wasn’t a neat and tidy and easy love. He’d taken her. He was a pagan. There was a part of her that even now didn’t want to forgive him for what he’d done to her by handing her over to his jarl.

But it was love. As real as God’s love. Just as complicated and simple as His.

People could change. She had. And life wasn’t lived in the past, but in the present—holding on to the hope of a future enduring life’s struggles and the fight for survival with this man by her side.

If God would allow it.

“Please. Please.” She struggled to control her thoughts long enough to find a prayer—any prayer—that would be good enough, strong enough.

Would God accept what she’d tried to do for her beloved if He did not plan to allow Thorvald to live?

She studied him. His breathing was shallow and not labored. Though it was steady, it was so slight; each inhalation was a miracle in and of itself. At any moment, it seemed as if the air he drew into his lungs might be the last.

“I’ve never seen a man fight like he fought.” Ozrik’s voice was thick, as if he struggled to hold back a display of emotion. “He’s a true warrior.”

A warrior who’d wanted to be a farmer.

No. She wouldn’t think of Thorvald in the past tense. He wasn’t dead yet.

“When I think of the things I said to him…” Ozrik bowed his head. His shoulders slumped.

“Shh. None of that, now. Whatever you said, I have no doubt of your intentions. He stumbled.” Alodie was nearly babbling and couldn’t stop herself. “When the time came, he didn’t shirk his duty, heedless of whatever the consequences might be. He should be held up as an example to us all.”

“I should never have doubted him.”

“You did right. Perhaps if you hadn’t, he’d never have…” Become the person she could admire. And love. “He’s as flawed as any of us because he’s no more than a man.”

“He’s much more than that.”

Alodie shook her head, but said nothing, keeping her attention on Thorvald. Ozrik didn’t understand. Maybe he couldn’t. Anyway, it wasn’t worth trying to explain to him what she meant—how she’d thought of him and his kind as demons. It was Thorvald who had chipped away at her beliefs, one action at a time.

Now, she was ashamed of what she’d thought. She’d been afraid and selfish and…and, oh, yes, they’d wronged her. Atrociously. If good was going to come out of it—miraculous good, in point of fact—then she wanted desperately to cling to it. Perhaps she was still selfish, but if there was such good to be had in this world, how could she keep living if it was snatched from her?

She set aside the dirty cloth and ran a hand over his bearded cheek. “Where are you?”

He stirred and his eyelids cracked. Her heart leaped.

When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. “Are we dead?” He tensed, trying to sit up a little, eyes darting around.

“Shhh.” Alodie took his hand and squeezed. “No, we’re not dead. We’re here…together.”

“For now.”

The tears she’d been fighting sprang up, hot and prickly, obscuring her vision in a damp blur, and her voice wobbled. “What does that mean?” Was he dying? Did he know it? Was that his way of admitting that he was not long for this world?

He didn’t answer, only relaxed back with his eyes closed. She squeezed his hand harder.

She didn’t want to be different from what and who she’d been before the demons swept her away.

But she was.

“I want you.” The admission slid from her tongue like polished pearls. “I want you to stay with me.”

“I won’t. I don’t want to live here. I want to go home. Help me stand.”

Her lungs squeezed. “You can’t—”

But he was already pushing himself to standing, letting out a small grunt as he straightened to his full height. “Ozrik, give us a moment, will you?”

His friend glanced between them, mouth pinched in slight disapproval. He gave a slow nod and retreated.

Alodie’s lips felt numb. “Is this…” She didn’t want to venture the possibility. After all she’d faced, this couldn’t be more frightening. Turning faint-hearted now would do her no credit. “Is this goodbye?”

“It could be. If you don’t allow me to take you for my wife.”

She went silent, almost dizzy with an unexpected assault of emotion.

His expression fierce, he reached out to cup her face. Staring into the depths of his eyes, the color seemed no more real today than it had the first morning she’d seen it. Tiny droplets of rain were collecting on the ends of his long lashes.

“Alodie?”

She raised her brows imperiously at him. “Three husbands claiming me within the space of a few days? I think not.”

His expression clouded. “But—”

“Not another husband who’s not of my own choosing. You will not take me. I will take you.”

He softened, almost smiling. From his face shone the warmth of a man gazing upon the most precious item in the whole world. “You’re choosing me?”

“I am.” A critical detail pierced her thoughts. He might not have been the demon she once loathed and feared, but he was still a pagan. “You’re going to have to give up your gods and take mine, you know. I won’t be able to live with the idea of having you only temporarily. I am going to need to be with you for eternity.”

“I was ready to lay down my life for you.” The smile that finally overcame his features was thin, but full of light. “I think I can manage it.”

“It’s not as easy as that.”

“After all we’ve seen? Not only today, but…” He clasped her hands in his and brought them to rest against his heart. “Yes. Yes, it is. You saved me during the storm. Kept me alive when I wanted to die. And today…today you give me something to stay alive for. I accept anything because I accept you.”