“Ciara, what’s wrong?” Leif asked, his voice gruff from sleep. He sat up. “Your skin is like ice.”
He pulled me toward him, but my limbs were stiff and uncooperative. When he started stripping my clothes from my body, I managed to unlock my jaw long enough to protest. “What are you doing?” I demanded.
He dragged over one of the leather bags the men used for sleeping—the fur around the top was wet, but the inner fur was dry, and warm. “Forgive me,” he said. “You should have told me how cold you were—all I could think about was collapsing on these furs and sleeping.”
“It’s all right,” I said, my words broken because of my chattering teeth.
“Getting in this will warm you, but not in your wet clothes,” he said with a pointed look at my soaked tunic, boots, and leather leggings. “You’ll have to trust I won’t take advantage of your nakedness.”
“Of course I trust you,” I managed to force out.
He efficiently and quickly stripped me of clothing and light armor, and I was too cold to blush, too numb to even appreciate the feel of his hands upon me. And then the fur surrounded me, and after a few quiet minutes of shivering, it finally calmed.
“Better?” he asked, a strange tone to his voice. I met his gaze, and heat rushed through me as I realized his efforts hadn’t been so efficiently detached after all, for even in the darkness, I could see that his eyes burned with desire.
It ignited something within me. All that we had been through together, all the times he had helped me and challenged me—the feel of his lips on mine, the comfort he gave me just lying chastely beside me each night. All of these things rushed through my mind, and I realized, I wanted more. I wanted him.
But as much as I felt the stirrings of desire within my own body, I wouldn’t give in to them—not here. Not covered in sweat and salt, surrounded by men and separated by a mere piece of cloth.
“Leif,” I said quietly, “thank you for jumping into the water to save me.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” he said, his gaze intent on mine. “I think I’ve made it clear I would do anything for you.”
His words made my stomach flutter more than the most romantic poem ever could. I didn’t think there was anyone who would say that about me—that they’d do anything for me. Not even my parents. It made me realize how much Leif meant to me, how terrifying it was to think I might one day lose him.
I couldn’t bear to think about it.
“You have no idea how much that means to me,” I said, and I felt my throat tighten.
“It makes it difficult not to come over there when you look at me like that,” Leif said, heat flaring in his eyes.
“I want more of you—all of you,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “But not on this ship, not . . . without a bath.”
He laughed, and he leaned down to kiss my lips gently. “Then we will wait, for I have wanted you all this time, and I will wait as long as it takes.” His gaze swept over my form hidden beneath the leather and fur. “Even if it brings me physical pain to know you’re naked right now.”
I smiled as a blush again warmed my body. As he lay back down to sleep, I made a promise to myself and to him: we would find a way to save him.
I couldn’t lose him.
23
The days at sea that followed the storm were uneventful. The sun shone in abundance as we sailed closer to Leif’s homeland, and after a fortnight had passed, I was desperate for rain, if only to wash the salt from my body. My hair no longer flowed freely, but instead was a tangled mess of waves. Every inch of my skin and armor had a coating of gritty salt, both from the sea and my own sweat. Despite such deterrents, Leif and I shared the same bed of furs each night, though we did nothing but sleep. I appreciated his respectful restraint, but it was torturous all the same.
And just when I thought I couldn’t take another day at sea, Leif called for a raven to be released.
“If I’m right,” he told me as I watched the bird soar away hopefully, “we aren’t far from land.”
“How will the raven tell us?” I asked.
“If it returns, then it couldn’t find land.”
I watched the sky that day like I had once watched it for storm clouds, but the bird never returned. I paced even more rapidly in the little space I had. The thought of land made the ship now seem desperately small. A light breeze teased at my hair, sending stray pieces into my eyes, and I pushed them away irritably.
“Land ahead,” Leif said, and as though he had conjured it with his words alone, mountains rose in the distance.
The V of ships headed for a small spot in between the mountains like geese flying toward a pond. But as we drew closer, I realized the spot was a fjord.
The men rowed, and a hush fell over us all as the ships sailed into the narrow inlet. A mist rose from the clear, cold water as verdant mountains rose on either side. Sunlight filtered in from the clouds, dancing upon the glittering water.
I felt eyes upon me and turned to find Leif watching me intently. “What is it?” I asked.
He smiled. “I am only enjoying the sight of you seeing my fjord for the first time.”
“It’s far more beautiful than I could have imagined,” I said. “The mountains are so green here.”
“You expected snow and ice?”
What had I expected? Whenever I thought of the land where the Northmen came from, it was always bleak and dark in my mind. A cold, barren wasteland. Certainly not the awe-inspiring beauty of the soaring cliffs and glassy waters. “Yes, but this . . . this is almost as beautiful as Éirinn. Why, then, do Northmen plague our lands?”
“The fjords are impressive to look at, but we lack the fertile farmlands of the south.”
“So you take ours,” I said with a nod of understanding.
Leif grinned, his mood much too buoyant at the sight of land to be brought down by even my provocative questions. “We take them after defeating their owners; they are the spoils of war.”
“Yes, I’m sure it’s a hard battle against farmers.”
His gaze shifted to the fjord. “Most of us are farmers. You’ll see.”
Warrior farmers, I thought, but didn’t say. Up ahead, a quay jutted out into the water, its planks covered by at least one hundred people. They must’ve caught sight of the red skeletal dragon when we entered the fjord. Cheers of excitement carried back to us on the wind. So different from the screams of terror they would be greeted with in Éirinn.
Behind them stood rows of wooden, thatched houses—not unlike the ones in Dubhlinn, only larger. The crowd was mostly made up of women and children, though there were also a few older men, and men who must have stayed behind to watch over the village.
I glanced up at Leif, this man I was so drawn to and yet knew so little about. An answering excitement bubbled up within me at the thought that maybe I would have the chance to learn more about him.
The men rowed our longship to one side of the quay, the knarr on the other. The three remaining longships were rowed all the way to the shore, where their shallow hulls breached. As soon as the ships were secured, men streamed off, eager to see the loved ones they’d left behind. The bloodthirsty warriors I’d come to know transformed into loving husbands and fathers; even the most fearsome of them were surrounded by laughing children. Here they were not dragons, only ordinary family men.
Sigtrygg’s men were nearly indistinguishable from the Northmen. All were equally filthy, for one thing. The sea had not been kind. But I also heard many speaking in the Northmen’s own language, conversing as easily as warriors who have fought battles together would do. The close confines of the ship had done much for bringing us all together.
Arin greeted a young girl about his age, both shyly smiling at each other, but clearly thrilled to be reunited. Leif slipped an arm around me, a relaxed smile on his face. He didn’t seem to be looking for anyone in the crowd, only relieved to be home. Again I wondered at his life before
we met. Had it been a lonely one?
Then a slim woman approached us, and I stiffened in surprise. Perhaps I had been wrong to assume he had left no one behind.
“Leif,” she said, “I thank the gods you have returned. Shall I prepare a feast in celebration?”
Something in me relaxed as I translated the Norse words. A servant, then.
“Thank you, Zinna,” he said. “Tomorrow night we will feast, and we’ve returned with food to replenish the larders. We must give our allies time to arrive. But why has my father not come to greet us?”
A shadow passed over her face, and she bowed her head. “He has been unwell these past few weeks and mostly stays confined to his room. He’s been looking forward to your return, though, and reserving his strength for the feast.”
A muscle in Leif’s jaw flexed. “I’ll go to him as soon as we are settled.”
Zinna’s almond-shaped eyes shifted to my face, but she did not voice her silent question. Leif caught her questioning look. “This is Ciara, Queen of Dyflin and Princess of Mide. Let everyone know her commands are to be followed as if I had given them myself.”
Zinna nodded. “Of course. Welcome, Queen Ciara.”
Some of the gaiety of the crowd dimmed when they caught sight of my undead army, remaining on board the ships. They glanced at one another and murmured, clearly unnerved by what they saw. “These are men of Hel,” they said to one another.
One of the men unloaded Abrax and Sleipnir, and the sight of the black stallion with red eyes nearly silenced the crowd. Some of the women cried out, and I heard the same name repeated over and over: Helhest.
I turned to Leif, my brows knitted in concern and question. “Helhest is the steed of Hel, and is said to be a plague-bringer,” he said. “Hel is a daughter of Loki, and she maintains the realm of the dead.” To his people, he raised his hands. “There is nothing to fear from these warriors and this horse. They are our allies, sworn to defend us against the jötnar.”
His words had a calming effect, but still, many shot distrustful glances toward the ships and my horse.
Leif smiled, his mood lighter than I’d ever seen it. “Come, it’s time to show you my home.”
“I will follow you anywhere as long as there is a bath at the end of it.”
He laughed. “Did the rainstorm not count?”
I shook my head as I smiled back at him. “Even if it did, that was a week ago.”
“I’m sure we can find something for you to bathe in.” His gaze held mine for a moment—a promise of things to come—and my stomach fluttered.
Though the majority of the villagers were down by the ships, I could tell the village was as busy as any city. We passed a blacksmith forge, horseshoes and weapons upon the walls in place of a sign; stray chickens and pens of sheep and goats; a stable for the horses; various shops with pottery and baskets; and everywhere, wooden shields and iron axes.
We stopped at the base of stairs leading up to a longhouse. Shields bearing Leif’s insignia hung from the wooden planks. “This is the great hall,” he said, and continued through the door.
Once inside, I paused as I took in the massive room. The ceiling soared above us, while the room itself seemed big enough for one hundred men. Upon every wall was some symbol of death: antlers, skulls, weapons, shields, Leif’s dragon insignia. Even so, the objects were arranged in such a way that there was a wild beauty to them. The smell of smoke wafted over to me from a large fire pit in the middle of the floor. The hall was as dim as a tavern.
On one side of the room sat a dais covered in skins and furs instead of rugs. Two large chairs, their backs and arms made of antlers, waited. Leif stared at them, his lips slightly parted as though surprised.
“Your father had the other made for you,” Zinna said, coming up behind us.
He paused as though taken aback, darting a look toward Zinna that was fraught with confusion and concern. “Has he been so unwell that he hasn’t been able to hear the needs of the village?”
She averted her eyes. “He has made do, but I know he has looked forward to your arrival.”
“I’ll go to him soon.” Leif turned to me. “Shall I show you to your room?” he asked. “You’ve waited for a bath long enough.”
I smiled and followed as he led me into one of the side hallways.
“Is everything all right?” I asked quietly.
“My father was injured long ago, and he’s never really recovered,” Leif said. “He has trouble walking, and at times, the pain is so bad he cannot get out of bed. But he’s always been able to do his duties as jarl.” He let out a pained sigh. “The fact that he has brought in another chair for me can only mean he has become too ill to continue.”
I reached up and touched his cheek. “I’m sorry, Leif,” I said, hating the pain in his eyes.
He took my hand and kissed the palm. “I must go. Do you need anything? Zinna will help you with a bath, and I will return as soon as I can.”
“Of course, go—don’t worry about me.”
This time he kissed my lips gently before leaning in and whispering in my ear, “I look forward to tonight.”
Heat spread outward from the core of me and traveled up my neck. My eyelids fell closed as he pressed another kiss on my neck. I knew I was in danger staying here with Leif. The more I learned of him, the more I felt my convictions toward him disappear.
He had never seemed more human.
After bathing, my skin and hair scented with lavender instead of sweat and seawater, I felt more relaxed than I had in weeks. I waited as long as I could for Leif, but after weeks spent on board a ship with little sleep, I slept like the dead.
The next morning, I opened my eyes to an empty room and immediately squeezed them closed again with a groan. How could I have fallen asleep? I had so badly wanted to be with Leif, especially after having a bath that made me feel attractive again. As I sat up in bed, another thought entered my mind: Had Leif even returned? I wasn’t usually such a deep sleeper, but I must have been more exhausted than I’d thought.
When I finally left my soft bed, I found that Zinna had kindly laid out both a tunic and a gown for me, but in this land I was a stranger to, I preferred to stay in my leather armor. I tugged on the tunic to wear beneath my armor, which, to my surprise, had easily come clean with merely a wet cloth, the leather as soft and supple as it had been when first gifted to me.
A firm knock came at my door, and I opened it to find Leif, dressed in a long belted tunic, leather leggings, silver wolf’s fur mantle, and tall leather boots. A single chain hung around his neck, a dragon biting its tail as the pendant. His hair was freshly washed and braided, his teeth white as he smiled down on me.
Our gazes caught and held, and soon his mouth was descending as I rose to meet him. He tasted of honeyed mead, and as his wide hands took hold of my hips and brought me closer, I nearly pulled him into my room.
“You are so beautiful,” Leif said, “and if I wasn’t sure someone would come and drag us out of this room before we had a chance to enjoy each other, I would gladly forgo greeting our allies.”
I shook my head, but a pleased smile touched my lips. “That’s what you said last night, but you never showed.”
He laughed. “I did, but you were sleeping so peacefully I couldn’t bear to wake you.”
“I didn’t even hear you come in.” I tilted my head. “What kept you?”
A shadow passed over his face. “My father. He is much worse than I’d anticipated.”
I reached out and touched his arm. “I am sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
He grinned. “I can think of a few things you can do to comfort me, but I’m afraid I don’t have time at the moment to dedicate to it.”
“Will a kiss suffice?” I asked, letting out a little laugh as he pulled me toward him.
He kissed me again with a growl of frustration. “Come with me before I change my mind. We’ll walk to the docks, and you’ll see how domestically we live here.”
>
I followed him back into the quieter hall, where a fire still blazed and many servants hurried about their different tasks. “Do you have cattle and sheep? I won’t consider it truly domestic unless you do.”
“Of course.” He stopped and called over one of the servants, who quickly answered his summons. “Would you bring us some skyr?”
She nodded and hurried away. When she returned again, she brought with her small wooden bowls full of a creamy white food.
“Try it,” Leif said, handing me one of the wooden spoons.
I dipped the spoon in, surprised by how thick it was. When I tasted it, there was a tartness on my tongue but also quite a bit of sweet. “Delicious,” I said. “How do you make it?”
“It’s made from cow’s milk strained through cloth. We usually make it when we make our cheese.”
This was much more domestic than I’d ever imagined the Northmen being, but I refused to admit I’d only ever thought of them eating raw meat and drinking ale and mead. We continued out of the longhouse and made our way through the village. Everyone we passed was busily working—the blacksmith hammering horseshoes, a fisherman gutting his fish, women weaving baskets, and children laughing and playing. There was no great show of notice when Leif passed by. He was one of them, not someone to be worshipped as many of our kings were.
The smell of the sea blew in on the breeze, triggering a painful homesickness. I thought of my sisters and Máthair. I could almost feel the softness of Deirdre’s hair, or the fierceness of Branna’s hugs. Soon, I promised them.
A low horn sounded from the shore behind us, and I turned toward the sound, my eyes scanning the distant waters.
Leif did the same. “One of my father’s allies has answered my summons,” he said as the ships’ banners came into view. “We will need all the help we can get for the battle against Fenris.”
Though there was no danger, my heart continued to race along in my chest. A low horn sounding and dragon-prow ships in the water had a different meaning for me, though even in this, my heart was changing.
Many of the villagers were already down at the quay to await the Northmen who had come. Two new ships now stood next to Leif’s, and the occupants were watching my army still on board them with as much distrust as the villagers had shown.
Beyond a Darkened Shore Page 26
