These Ivory Kings (Ragnarök's Edge Book 3) by Kaylin Lee

Author:Kaylin Lee [Lee, Kaylin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-18T16:00:00+00:00

9

When we get back to the house, the whole warband is in a sour mood for a week straight.

Helga snips at Ketil, Ketil snips at Eyvind, Godfrid mostly keeps away from the main house and sticks to the barn, and everyone complains about the food.

And Gunnar, poor, disgruntled Gunnar, complains about the ungrateful warband’s complaints.

The berserkers hunt every day, but bring back less and less game to share as winter progresses.

I stick by Greta’s side, helping with her every chore and avoiding the Vikings. Each morning, I find newly shadowed lys on my arms and chest, and each evening, fresh, dark bruises appear where I cannot remember receiving any injury.

Then I wake up with another nosebleed. And this one doesn’t stop.

“It’s time,” Ref says grimly after inspecting my shadows and bruises. The others edge away from us.

“What? Again?” Gunnar looks down at his bowl of cod soup, then at me, and grimaces. “I just sat down to eat.”

“Eat outside in the yard, then,” Helga says testily.

“Well, it’s not easy to eat soup out in the yard. The bowl is hot. I might burn myself.”

Helga and Gunnar continue to argue, but Ref draws my attention away from them by framing my face with his hands and tilting it up, so I must look at him.

I am so tired, so terrified, I can barely speak. “All right,” I murmur, my voice muffled by the cloth I hold to my bleeding nose. He studies me for a moment, his brow furrowed, then nods and leaves me, I assume to go get the svartrgras.

I stagger back to my bedroom with a blanket held to my bleeding nose, rather than face the awkward silence of the main room. I mop the blood from the floor by my bed, but it has almost dried. I’ll have to bring in votr later. After.

“I’ll stay. I’ll help, I mean.” Helga steps into our bedroom, her arms folded across her chest as she rubs her upper arms. “If you want me to.”

“You don’t have to,” I mumble wetly.

“I know. But … It’s my fault you have to take it.” She seems to steel herself. “And if there’s anything I can do to help, I want to do it.”

“It’s not your fault. But thank you.”

“What can I do?”

“We’ll need votr, I think. A lot of it. Maybe you could haul in a few buckets?”

It all happens too quickly. The votr is brought in. The svartrgras is prepared. Ref brings me the cup expectantly, and I try to take it but my hand trembles so much that I cannot.

He lifts it to my lips for me.

Suddenly, just as I am about to drink, Godfrid flings the door open and sprints into the center of the room, nearly tripping on the bloody cloth I left on the floor.

“There’s a ship on the river,” he pants. He looks terrified. “Red sail.”

“No.” Ketil is on his feet in a heartbeat. “All the way up here?”

“They dropped their anchor. Were preparing to come ashore when I ran.

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