Maidensong by Mia Marlowe

Author:Mia Marlowe [Marlowe, Mia]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Ten Talents Press
Published: 2012-02-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

They reached the headwaters of the Dvina sooner than Rika would’ve liked. She enjoyed the relaxed travel up the placid waterway and the easy camaraderie of the party. But sometimes the tension between her and Bjorn was so thick, she was sure the others must feel it vibrating in the air around them. If they did, they gave no sign, and each night Bjorn’s eyes sent Rika silent messages of desire.

Part of her knew it was foolish to extend the torment for them both. Yet another part of her was grateful for one more day to spend in his company, to watch his muscles working as he bent to the oar, to hear his laugh when Jorand said something ridiculous, and to feel him caressing her with his gaze across the fire each night. She was storing moments, saving snippets of time forever in her memory, like her orchid trapped in amber. They were stolen treasures to be savored the rest of her life once the harem doors slammed shut on her.

The great city with its tall walls loomed larger in her imagination, but she was not there yet. She would wring every drop of joy and exquisite torment she could from each day.

Ornolf had trade agreements with a Slavic tribe at the river’s end. In exchange for hack silver, they furnished a large wagon with a bowed box, designed to haul the Valkyrie overland to the town of Kiev. The price for this service was meticulously weighed out in silver and Ornolf snapped one of the coins with strange Arabic symbols in two to make the scales finally balance.

Each morning when Bjorn lifted Rika onto her horse for the day’s travel, he slipped her a small piece of wood with his rune carvings from the previous night. Some days, he’d worked on the names of the members of the party, straining to make the sounds appear in proper sequence. Rika noticed that he had yet to get Torvald’s name right. Other times he used the individual letters in their symbolic meanings to send a nonsense message that made her laugh. One morning he surprised her with a horn comb he’d carved, on which he’d inscribed ‘Rika owns this comb.’

There was never much opportunity for them to have a private conversation, but the runes had become their method of secret communication. Since no one else knew runic writing, it was almost as if they had their own code. This morning when he pressed the wood into her hand, his palm lingered on hers a moment longer than propriety allowed for another man’s bride, but she didn’t pull away.

As they began their day’s journey, Helge and Torvald rode in the wagon with Uncle Ornolf. She, Bjorn and Jorand rode sturdy horses. When the rest of the party was engaged in conversation, she sneaked a glance at the wood Bjorn had given her.

‘Rika owns this heart,’ the inscription proclaimed.

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. A leaden weight settled on her chest.

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