for a few months, he intended to bring them to a safer dwelling and help to conquer the lands that had been stolen.
The wind shifted, curling a chill over his spine as the sun grew lower in the sky. He was caught in a half life, a world between worlds. He didn’t doubt that there was magic at play here, a test he had to face. It was like a dream, one from which he longed to awaken.
As he continued to spread the mud, a daydream caught him unawares. In the vision, he saw a man who resembled his father…and yet the man wore clothing that was different. He heard himself speaking a strange language he’d never encountered before, and while Arik daydreamed, he could almost imagine that he understood Harry’s words.
“Will you be my new papa?” the child was asking.
He broke free of his dream, startled. Words came to his lips, but he knew not what they meant. He should not have understood the boy just now. The language Harry spoke was foreign, a tongue of the Anglo-Saxons.
And yet, for the slightest moment, he’d understood the boy’s words. Unease filled him, for surely it was Loki’s mischief at play.
The boy spoke again, and once more, his words became senseless chatter. Arik forced himself to pay closer heed to the task at hand, but the truth remained—there were visions in his mind that did not belong to him. He had seen this world through another man’s eyes, heard a language through another man’s ears.
It was a strange magic, one that made the hair stand up on the back of his arms.
When Juliana opened the door and saw them repairing her home, her face softened. “I told you, you didn’t need to do that.”
“It is cold at night, is it not?” He continued smoothing more mud into the cracks, trying to push away the uneasiness of the vision.
“Yes, but we’ll find somewhere else to go, Mr. Thorgrim. I won’t be keeping Harry here much longer. Once I’ve found the proof of my marriage, I’ll return to my true home.”
“With my help.”
Her expression turned wary, as if she didn’t trust him to succeed in this task. But he had gone a-viking many times in the past, and rarely had he failed. Nor would he fail in this.
He guided her son to fill another crevice, watching as the boy took pride in his work. Juliana winced at the mud on his hands, and Arik said, “I will help him wash after we have finished here.”
The boy beamed at his mother and uttered words in their language, his tone filled with excitement.
“Both of you are covered in mud,” she said. “I’ll have Grelod heat water so you can bathe.” She spoke to the boy in her own language, and the child grimaced as if he didn’t want to wash.
Arik took a step nearer, watching the play of nervousness upon her face. The wind blew against her hair, tearing a few honeyed strands free of the knot she’d pinned up. He remembered the tangle of her wet hair against her shoulders while she’d embraced him against her bare skin.
“You could wash me as well,” he said softly, “when all of them are asleep.”
Juliana colored and took a step back. “No. Y-you’ll be spending the night with the horses.” She rubbed her shoulders, glancing down at the ground. “It might be a little cold in there, but it’s all I have.”
It was a lie. She could have invited him inside her own home, but it was clear that he intimidated her. Her gray eyes held wariness. “Or you could still leave.”
He let the last of the mud fall from his fingertips. “Are you afraid of me, Juliana?”
She bit her lip and gave a single nod. “It isn’t proper for you to be alone with us.” She took Harry’s hand in hers, but Arik took the boy’s muddy palm before she could leave with him. He pointed toward the sea water, and with reluctance, Juliana allowed him to lead the boy there.
“In the morning, we will travel to your husband’s home,” he continued. “And we will take it back from your enemies.”
In her eyes, he could see the shocked protests
The wind shifted, curling a chill over his spine as the sun grew lower in the sky. He was caught in a half life, a world between worlds. He didn’t doubt that there was magic at play here, a test he had to face. It was like a dream, one from which he longed to awaken.
As he continued to spread the mud, a daydream caught him unawares. In the vision, he saw a man who resembled his father…and yet the man wore clothing that was different. He heard himself speaking a strange language he’d never encountered before, and while Arik daydreamed, he could almost imagine that he understood Harry’s words.
“Will you be my new papa?” the child was asking.
He broke free of his dream, startled. Words came to his lips, but he knew not what they meant. He should not have understood the boy just now. The language Harry spoke was foreign, a tongue of the Anglo-Saxons.
And yet, for the slightest moment, he’d understood the boy’s words. Unease filled him, for surely it was Loki’s mischief at play.
The boy spoke again, and once more, his words became senseless chatter. Arik forced himself to pay closer heed to the task at hand, but the truth remained—there were visions in his mind that did not belong to him. He had seen this world through another man’s eyes, heard a language through another man’s ears.
It was a strange magic, one that made the hair stand up on the back of his arms.
When Juliana opened the door and saw them repairing her home, her face softened. “I told you, you didn’t need to do that.”
“It is cold at night, is it not?” He continued smoothing more mud into the cracks, trying to push away the uneasiness of the vision.
“Yes, but we’ll find somewhere else to go, Mr. Thorgrim. I won’t be keeping Harry here much longer. Once I’ve found the proof of my marriage, I’ll return to my true home.”
“With my help.”
Her expression turned wary, as if she didn’t trust him to succeed in this task. But he had gone a-viking many times in the past, and rarely had he failed. Nor would he fail in this.
He guided her son to fill another crevice, watching as the boy took pride in his work. Juliana winced at the mud on his hands, and Arik said, “I will help him wash after we have finished here.”
The boy beamed at his mother and uttered words in their language, his tone filled with excitement.
“Both of you are covered in mud,” she said. “I’ll have Grelod heat water so you can bathe.” She spoke to the boy in her own language, and the child grimaced as if he didn’t want to wash.
Arik took a step nearer, watching the play of nervousness upon her face. The wind blew against her hair, tearing a few honeyed strands free of the knot she’d pinned up. He remembered the tangle of her wet hair against her shoulders while she’d embraced him against her bare skin.
“You could wash me as well,” he said softly, “when all of them are asleep.”
Juliana colored and took a step back. “No. Y-you’ll be spending the night with the horses.” She rubbed her shoulders, glancing down at the ground. “It might be a little cold in there, but it’s all I have.”
It was a lie. She could have invited him inside her own home, but it was clear that he intimidated her. Her gray eyes held wariness. “Or you could still leave.”
He let the last of the mud fall from his fingertips. “Are you afraid of me, Juliana?”
She bit her lip and gave a single nod. “It isn’t proper for you to be alone with us.” She took Harry’s hand in hers, but Arik took the boy’s muddy palm before she could leave with him. He pointed toward the sea water, and with reluctance, Juliana allowed him to lead the boy there.
“In the morning, we will travel to your husband’s home,” he continued. “And we will take it back from your enemies.”
In her eyes, he could see the shocked protests
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