Chapter Fifty-four

There was something to it, to sliding her arm through the straps of the shield, to feeling the weight of that axe in her hand, something almost delicious. Suddenly she didn't care that she was on her way to meet Erik. Suddenly she did not care that she was wearing thick leather trousers and vest just like a man. Freya gave her hair one last soft tug as she tied it up near the top of Enid's head and then Enid sighed as she turned to her, cupping her cheeks in the palm of her hand and kissing her forehead.

"You were right," Enid whispered, bending over so she could look the girl in the eyes. "I think I do love your father."

"Good," the girl whispered back, poking her finger to the side of Enid's head. "Then don't let Erik confuse you."

"He does confuse me," Enid sighed, standing and pulling down her vest. "All of this confuses me. I never met a princess before or a jarl or anyone like that… I don't really know how to act."

"That doesn't matter," Freya shook her head. "Not here anyway. They're not the gods, Enid. They're just people like us, unless they order you to do something, you don't have to treat them differently and… you're still a slave. They shouldn't be any different to you than me or any other free person," she said, and Enid sighed again, wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulder and squeezing her.

"You're right," Enid said. "It's just… he is handsome."

"Shut up, Enid!" Freya snapped, and Enid watched that colour rise to her cheeks, watched the girl clench her fists and glare at the floor in front of them, and Enid laughed softly, something warm insider her as she held the girl to her chest.

"He's too old for you, Freya," she whispered.

"No, he's not!" she snapped, but then her shoulders sank. "Maybe he is…" she sighed.

"And I thought you wanted to be a shieldmaiden first," Enid said, pulling away from the girl. "And buy your own land like Hilda."

"I do."

"So, maybe things will be different then," Enid smiled. "Maybe after you do all that, he'll be the one coming for you," she added, and Freya's shoulders rose again, a smile springing to her lips as she nodded and Enid laughed, squeezing the girl's arm and letting her go. "But until then, you stay away from him."

It was the way Freya had smiled, the way she'd torn through the room and chased after Tyr to practice that had Enid's heart almost glowing, almost overflowing with heat. She couldn't help it, she had a smile of her own on her lips as she left the longhouse, and she laughed to herself as she walked to the beach, but then their eyes met.

"I'm glad you're happy, Enid," Erik smiled, pushing himself up from the rock he'd been sitting on. "I thought you could use some time away from Ivar's children," he said as he circled around her.

"I'm here to train, Erik."

"I know," she heard him laugh behind her. "And we've already started," he said, and she felt that knife on her cheek, his breath hot on her ear as he whispered, "Don't be afraid, Enid. Your fate has already been decided, the only thing you can do is accept it."

He stepped in front of her then, that knife trailing across her skin, the point digging into her flesh, and she wanted to run then, she wanted to swing her axe and cut into him, just like he was doing to her, but then he smiled, flicking that knife in the air and catching it by the hilt.

"You can't fight with fear, Enid. That's what the English do and that's why they lose. You still have it," he said, pointing that knife towards her face. "I can see it in your eyes. You have to accept that your fate is with the gods and then you can fight for real."

"I can't," she shook her head. "I don't believe that, Erik."

That smile on his face turned into a grin as he stepped closer, the tip of his knife then grazing the skin under her chin.

"Erik?" he whispered, his lips inches from hers. "I never said you could call me that."

"Stop it," she snapped, pushing on his chest and pulling away. "You're going to be married soon. Have some respect for your future wife."

Erik laughed then, his head tilting to the side as he watched her. "Thank you for thinking about her," he said, and then a sudden sharpness sprang into his eyes. "Is it true that Christians think it's wrong to sleep with someone outside of their marriage?"

"Yes!" she said. "Of course, we do."

"And you stay virgins until then?" he asked, and she took a step back then, her face going slack and pale.

"Yes."

"So you're a virgin, Enid?" he said, closing that gap between them.

"Yes," she whispered, and then he smiled again, laughing to himself as he turned around and walked further along the beach.

"That's what I like about you," he said, and then he turned, smiling to her. "You believe what you believe no matter who's standing in front of you," he nodded, and he picked up a sword from the sand, springing it from the sheathe and calling her over with a jerk of his head. "That's what you have to do, Enid. You have to believe that you'll win no matter who you're facing."

That evening, her muscles were aching, her skin glistening as she peeled off her clothes and washed with water from the pail. It was so cold, so cold she hissed when it touched her, so cold she gasped when she splashed it to her face and washed the blood from her cheek, but she felt so good. She had to fight that smile that wanted to spring to her lips. She had to fight that laugh building in her chest as she pulled on the first layer of her dress.

Her arms hurt as she lifted them, so much that it made her wait to slide on that top dress on, so she stared at it in her hands, trailing her thumbs over the stitching and smoothing the small brass shields. She was so glad Gro had given her new clothes to train with, it would have hurt too much to see this dress tattered and stained.

She heard the sound of boots at the doorway and she turned, seeing those eyes the same colour as that dress in her hands, sky-blue and so warm.

"Ivar…" she whispered, but that's all she could get out before he was standing over her, taking that dress from her hands and tossing it onto the bed beside them, and then his fingers were reaching, tracing that cut on her cheek, trailing along her neck and her shoulders, her breath hitching in her chest, her eyes closing as she felt his lips brush up against hers.

She felt him moving, lifting and pinning her against the wall as he grunted against her lips, and she could still hear them on the other side of it, eating and talking and laughing, and for a moment that was enough and she wasn't afraid that they would be discovered, but then she felt that hand pulling at her skirt, felt his fingers as he trailed her legs and wrapped them around his waist.

"Wait, Ivar, no…" she breathed, and he laughed then, a laugh that was like a low rumble, that tickled her chest as he planted soft kisses on her lips.

"Don't worry," he whispered, tapping her knee. "You were just getting heavy," he said, and at first she was angry and she wanted to push him away, but then she felt those small kisses all down her neck, felt him wrap his fingers in her hair and sigh. "I know what you believe, Enid," he whispered. "I won't do more, not unless you want me to… but it's hard to stop when you keep making that face."

"What face?" she breathed, but she never got an answer.

His lips crashed into hers, this time not gentle, her mind going blank and all she could think of was the feel of him all around her. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. Suddenly she never wanted to again as long as he would keep holding her like that, but he went stiff then, burying himself in her neck, huffing and sending warm bursts of air all down her front as he tapped her knee again, uncurling her legs from around him and slowly putting her down.

"I can't…" he whispered. "I won't be able to stop if we…"

She looked up at him, seeing that heat in his eyes, not knowing if she would be able to refuse him if she felt his fingers on her skin again, and then she pressed herself to his chest, grabbing onto his shirt, her breath coming out in quick, short stutters.

"I think we should come back later, Freya."

Her cheeks were on fire then, her hands pushing him away as she turned to stare at the doorway. The three of them were there, Frigga in Freya's arms and Tyr beside them, the look on his face bright and light, his lips twitching like he was fighting a laugh.

"You can stay and watch if you want," Ivar said.

"Ivar!" Enid gasped, but then she heard Tyr laughing, saw him striding into the room and sitting at the table.

Freya was much slower, her eyes flicking between their faces as she came to sit next to her brother, bouncing Frigga in her arms, her mouth a tight, thin line.

"Be nice to her, Ivar," she warned, and Ivar sighed, sitting on the free seat and pulling Enid into his lap.

She felt the colour rise to her cheeks as she tried to get back up, her fingers pulling at his wrists, but he only held her tighter as he shuffled his seat forward, leaning in past her arm to whisper to the children.

"Someone warned Jarl Sigurd about Rolf's attack," he said. "I haven't figured out who it was and I don't know why they didn't say anything about mine, but… be careful what you say to people. No one is our friend here, you understand? And you keep this a secret too," he said, squeezing Enid's arm. "She's safer if people think she's just a slave and you're safer if they think you're just children."

Enid stared at him, her eyes going wide, her heart racing in her chest. For a moment she thought the children would argue, that they would ask more questions or not understand; but then they looked at each other, a wide grin spreading on both of their faces. Tyr leaned forward, his eyes bright and shining, that grin so big it looked like it hurt his cheeks.

"So what's the plan?" he asked.