A Heart of Fire (15 page)

"Good
eventide," Hadarr greeted her and held a hand aloft toward a seat at his
immediate left. Finna scurried around the table and fell into the offered seat,
accepting an ale horn and greedily draining the honeyed drink to calm her
racing nerves.

She
thrust the horn back at the servant before the thrall had a chance to move away
and looked down the table past her new father. To his right sat her mother and
then her sister. Geera did not look to be in any better disposition than she
had been in earlier.

Finna
grabbed back the horn, and the servant moved away, looking over her shoulder
with a hint of shock. Finna drank again, heavily. It was the finest ale she'd
ever tasted. When she set the horn away, she scowled, looking twice at the
presence at her side. Valdrik pulled out the seat next to her and dropped
himself into it, scooting to the table.

She
had not realized she was holding her drink in her mouth, and Finna swallowed
hard, her throat aching from the large gulp.

He
looked as smug as ever. Now that she could see him in the light, Valdrik had
cleaned up well, too, she supposed. He had pulled his hair back from his face
by braids and tied them with a strip of leather at the back of his head. He did
not wear his beard long enough to braid as some men did, but he had trimmed and
combed the coarse hair neatly.

Her
eyes traveled down further, to his attire. Made of a fine material, his blue
tunic softened his otherwise dark features and stood in stark contrast to the
deep brown leather of his pants and the wide belt he wore over his tunic.

With
a growl, she leaned over. "Cannot you leave me be?" she hissed in a
whisper.

Valdrik
leaned in even closer, so only she could hear, slipping his arm around the back
of her chair. He turned, his face mere inches from hers. The corner of his lips
quirked upward in a taunt. "Perhaps you do not understand the situation,
shieldmaiden." Valdrik reached for the ale horn set before him and drank,
still leaning ever so casually on the back of her chair.

"What
do you mean?" Finna asked, glancing up only once as the thrall moved away
again.

His
brows pinched, as though he failed to see how she did not understand. He issued
a long-suffering sigh and sat back in his own seat. "I mean that you have
no choice."

Finna
blinked at him. "But you love my sister," she stammered, glancing
nervously across the room. "I thought it would please you to hear my
refusal."

She
was not sure what to say. Of course she had a choice. Surely Hadarr, the man
who loved the daughter he had lost all those years ago, would not wish to wed
her to this uncaring oaf. Neither her father nor any of these people truly knew
her, knew what she was capable of. He had said it was for the best. Perhaps
Hadarr thought she somehow
needed
Valdrik's protection, though surely he remembered her skill.

I need
protection from whom?
she wondered. Finna cringed, the lingering effects of Valdrik's touch still
scorching like hot branding irons upon her body.

There
was no telling what Valdrik himself might seek to do to her. This man truly did
not care for her, or perhaps anyone. All he wished for was to seek his
vengeance and pleasure.

Valdrik
chuckled, although his stare hardened at the same time. "Nay, it does not
please me to be saddled with you instead of Geera." His jaw clenched as he
regarded her a moment, a hard, unreadable expression in his eyes. "What
would please me is for you to act like a biddable woman, for that is all I wish
to have out of a wife. I do not desire my woman to carry a sword or fight,
especially not against me."

He
drank again and then moved to lean on the table instead of her chair. His gaze
roved over her coolly, so indifferent now. The ice in his blue eyes chilled
Finna.

He
shrugged. "Truly, it matters not which woman I wed, so long as I am in
position to mete out justice on Aldar until either of us is dead."

Finna
flinched. She was not sure why, but she did. She stared at him a long moment,
even as the servants came to deposit trays of food on the large table and
Valdrik began to fill his trencher. His words were so stark with hostility, so
full of confidence. Only she knew Aldar had never been bested by anyone.

At
last, she tore her eyes from him and picked at the food to fill her trencher,
too, choosing roasted venison, potatoes, and a few root vegetables. She did not
fill her trencher nearly as his in proportion, for, although the food looked
and smelled delectable, her appetite had disappeared along with her
self-assurances that she had a choice in the matter concerning marriage.

"What
makes you think you will be the man to best him?" she asked before taking
a bite. "Surely there are others who have an equal claim to justice."

He
stopped eating and looked out over the hall for a long moment before turning
his stare to her. "How would you feel if you left from your home one
morning and told your family good day when you should have said goodbye
forever?" he asked. "How would you feel if you were destined to be a
Jarl, to rule, to care for the people you love, and then suddenly you have no
family, no people, no home, no throne to rule from? You would feel like
vengeance embodied, aye?"

Finna
forced down the knot in her throat. "I imagine I would feel much as I do
now,
disembodied
completely, as
though there is nothing left of me. You tore my life from me in many ways,
Viking
. Even if what I believed was all
a lie, ‘twas my life. I had things I loved I no longer have. I had a pet that
now has no one to care for him. You gave no care to what you were taking away
when you came for me, and you have no care now." She
tsk'd
sharply, glaring at him. "Your vainglory does you no
good. No one is born with a right to rule. Deserving does not make a good Jarl,
just as deserving justice does not mean you shall have it."

He
shook his head at her and turned back to his trencher. "Aye, I shall have
it," he muttered.

For
a man so full of passion not long ago, his mood had changed as easily as the
winds. Had her refusal of him bothered him that much?

Finna
remained quite through the rest of the meal, ignoring Valdrik as he did her.
Hadarr spoke to her in length, describing to her the day they had returned home
to find the village destroyed and her cradle empty. When he spoke of her
nursemaid Alice, she accepted the truth at last.

Alice
had always been sad when Aldar would speak of the day her mother had been taken
from them, but Finna couldn’t remember aught else of the woman. Come to find,
she had been very close to Surguilde and her mother trusted no one but Alice
with Finna's care.

As
Finna ate, she wondered why Alice had never told her the truth. Yet she had
been of a tender age when the woman passed, too young to have any understanding
of their situation. The dead could not speak. She would never know if Alice
would have eventually spoken the truth, nor would she know why Alice chose to
keep them with Aldar instead of returning. Fear, most likely, kept them with
Aldar.

Emptiness
washed through Finna to the point she thought she would be ill. She wasn’t sure
how her world had changed so drastically, so completely, when Valdrik had
stolen her away. Could she have guessed all that would follow, she would have
fought all the more fiercely, if only to feel whole again for only a moment
more.

Everything
she had ever known was a lie.

Finna
glanced over, feigning disinterest as Valdrik scraped back his seat and left
the table. It was not surprising that soon thereafter her sister followed from
the dais. Her parents did not notice, as they were happily content to have her
with them, and continued to talk to her, but Finna's attention wandered
elsewhere.

She
could not help but notice Valdrik and Geera speaking closely together at the
end of the hall, out of notice of most others. Valdrik took Geera's hands in
his, pulling them close to his chest as he spoke softly to her.

She
would never have that tender affection from him.

He
despised her.

Saddled
, he'd said. He
considered her a burden.

Finna
watched as Geera jerked herself away from Valdrik and fled to the other side of
the hall and up the stairs. Even from where she sat, she could see tears
streaking her sister's face before she disappeared. Finna grimaced. She had
caused that, unwillingly and unknowingly albeit, but she was the cause.

Something
inside her broke down and wilted her soul then.

She
did not like being the center of attention here, nor the cause of anyone's
pain.

"I
beg you to excuse me," Finna said to Hadarr suddenly. "I am feeling
very tired after such a long day." She started to rise, but Hadarr reached
out for her.

"Of
course," he said, and patted her hand. "But before you go, I have
something I wish to give you." He reached to his side.

Finna
watched as his hand reappeared, and a necklace dropped by its chain, dangling
from his fingers. She stared at it a long moment. The design was beautiful. An
emerald cut large and round, as green as the summer grasses, set in the center
of golden knotwork where the pendant dangled from a golden chain. "'Tis
beautiful," she said. "But I cannot take your gift."

Hadarr
frowned, opening the clasp and reaching to put the necklace around her neck.
Finna tried to pull back, but with his longer reach, Hadarr already had the
clasp secured behind her hair easily.

Finna
reached down to pick the emerald up from her chest and looked at the stone in
the golden knot closely. It was such a fine piece. No one had ever gifted her
with jewels before, save the simple clasp on her cloak Aldar had given her. Yet
the two did not compare.

"When
your mother found that she was with child, I had just returned from a raid
across the sea," Hadarr started, returning Finna's attention to him.
"I'd brought back that necklace for her, and when she gave birth to you,
she told me she wanted you to have the necklace someday. We could think of no
better day than this one, daughter. I praise the gods you have been returned to
us." He reached to his other side and took Surguilde's hand in his.

Finna's
stare flicked between the two. "Thank you," she said, her gratitude
bringing warmth to her cheeks. She tried to find the words to express her
feelings, but could not. She just stared at them, trying to reconcile herself
to the knowledge that this man was her father and that not only did her mother
live, but she was staring right back at her. "Aldar told me
you
killed my mother to spite him,"
she blurted.

A
flash of anger spiked in Hadarr's eyes, and he reached to take Finna's hands in
both his own. He kissed her knuckles, and then rubbed them with the pads of his
thumbs as he sat back thoughtfully. "I'm sure he told you many things,
child. One day…" His voice hitched, and he paused, looking off across the
hall. "One day, I will have my vengeance on my brother." He sighed
again and released Finna's hands. "Go find your bed, daughter. Rest easy.
You are in a warm, safe home now. Soon you will have a husband to care for you
and a hearth of your own."

Finna
slowly nodded, and her stomach flipped. She swallowed hard as she left the
table and crossed the hall, unsure those were the words she wished to have in
her mind as she sought her bed. She wasn’t sure why she gave Hadarr any sign of
agreement, because she surely did not agree with accepting a husband and
hearth. Especially not Valdrik. As she looked about, she noticed he was gone
from the hall now, too.

Before
she reached the stairs, she took one last look at her parents on the dais. They
gathered together sharing a moment of relief in each other's arms. The strain
of years seemed to have washed from them in only a day.

Will this ever
seem real?

As
Finna turned and started up the steps, her thoughts clouded with her day, her
new worries piling up as she reached the top. So lost in thought, she almost
did not notice the people in the hall until she was upon them. Finna stopped
short, realizing one of the figures belonged to Geera and her sister was
pulling at the arm of a man as he trapped her against the wall only a few feet
away.

Alarm
rang through her mind. "What are you doing there?" Finna called out,
watching the man warily. Her senses turned on edge as he looked at her.

He
sneered. "Go on about your business, woman," he said gruffly.

"My
business is with my sister," Finna said, taking a step forward. "I
wish to know what it is you think you are doing with her. Geera, does this man
bother you?"

Geera
looked between Finna and the man. "Aye." Her voice cracked on a
frightful whimper.

Finna
took another step, but came to a stop, reminding herself she had no weapon. The
man took her advance as a threat and stood straight, smirking. He gathered the
front of Geera's dress in his hand at her chest and pushed her into the wall,
holding her there. Her sister winced and then began to claw at his hand.