By the time Björn and I reached the trail to the secret cove, Søren and Leif were already waiting, and most of the village appeared to be on the shore of the nearby harbor.
I imagined Søren planned for some kind of dramatic reaction from the crowd when we came around the corner, and to some degree, he got it. I heard someone shout excitedly, and then a sea of indistinguishable faces turned in our direction. Some jeers, but even more cheers rose from the crowd. As we approached, I could pick out Skarde among the group: his reddish blonde hair was braided, his beard trimmed, and he looked altogether neat and presentable for a viking. A dramatic brick-red cape, pinned over his shoulder, stood out among the assembly—there was not a single person with a garment of the same color.
Of course, my crew had also taken care to clean up. Signe had tended to both Björn’s and my hair, weaving intricate braids that created a delicate crown for me and left the lower part of my hair hanging loose, and creating a pattern of smaller braids on the sides of Björn’s head with one larger one that went down the middle, the bottom of his hair also loose. He’d donned a clean, off-white tunic, belted over dark brown trousers, with a chocolate cape pinned over his right shoulder. I simply wore the same woolen dress Signe had given me, accessorized with my leather belt and sword. The hair was my one accessory, and Signe’s work had certainly made the silvery color sing with the way she wove the plaits.
Leif’s hair was down and shone like gold as it drifted in the breeze. He wore a neat, pale-blue tunic that complimented his impossibly bright eyes, and brown trousers with a brown cape. I attempted to avoid staring at him too thirstily… the man was just impossibly pretty.
Søren wore a cleaner version of what he wore every day, just a light brown tunic belted over brown trousers, but added a cape over his sword arm as well. His sandy hair and beard were tidy as usual, head freshly shaved below his ears and hair neatly tucked into a single braid.
When we reached the shore, the displeasure on Skarde’s expression was easy to read. He marched over, and Søren hopped off the ship to meet him.
“What is this?” He gestured to our ship. “A boat for dwarves?”
Laughter erupted around us, and Søren’s fingers flexed, but he maintained his calm. “We have brought a ship to compete in the traditional games before the summer raids. Even though they have been ceremonial for the last many years, it seemed like the right time to bring them back to life. A genuine test of viking skill and honor!”
The crowd burst into cheers, and Skarde looked as if he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. “Of course! It will be nice to have some competition, for once. You will take the role of captain?”
“No, I will not,” Søren grinned. “Our captain today will be Brenna.” He gestured in my direction and smiled like the Cheshire Cat as Skarde turned my way.
The scene played out in slow motion, as if it were from a movie I’d seen in what felt like another lifetime. Skarde, surprised by the name, lifted an eyebrow as his head turned, painfully slowly, in my direction. The shock when he recognized me was like a ripple across his features, beginning with the drop of his jaw, spreading to widen his eyes and lift his brows.
I walked toward him, hand on my sword. I could feel a hundred pairs of eyes tracking my every move, but I did my best to ignore them and keep my focus on my target. “Hello, Skarde, it’s nice to see you again. From what I hear, you have a vastly different recollection of the night we met than I do.”
The laughter crescendoed, and I paused to allow everyone the enjoyment of hearing the full story. “But let me address your version. As for me pleasuring you in a dozen different ways, I know you have difficulty counting, but I’d hardly call a single position change a dozen. To my recollection, you passed out far too soon to give any woman pleasure, particularly a woman such as me—not something I would rave about. There is no way I’d be interested in returning for that every full moon.” I smiled sweetly up at him as the color in his cheeks darkened. More quietly, I added, “Next time, perhaps you ought to just appreciate the gift you received instead of trying to pretend it was so much more. Then you might not be humiliated in front of the entire village.”
Skarde’s hands were fisted, knuckles white with straining against his desire to strike me. I knew without looking that Björn and Leif had joined us and now stood directly behind me. Skarde’s eyes rose to something over my head, and he seemed to think better of unleashing the anger he had been building.
“Well,” he replied with a forced jovial tone, “I think we ought to get on with the competition, no?” The cheer rose like a wave from the surrounding villagers. Skarde threw a beefy arm over my shoulders, and steered me further up the beach as the crowd made a path through for us.
In a wide, empty circle of rocks on the beach sat something that made my heart lurch, then begin racing full steam.
If I’d known, I’d never have agreed to this challenge. It was so cruel I would almost think Odin had planned it himself.
“What exactly is this challenge?” I hissed at Søren.
Skarde grinned as if he’d just been given a gift. “Oh, your friends didn’t tell you? The challenge is for the captains to drink copious amounts of beer, then guide their blindfolded teams out to the other side of the fjord and back. First one that makes it back is the winner.” His lips curled into a lascivious grin, and he added in a lower voice, “I’m sure the entire town is looking forward to how you behave with a few beers under your belt, Brenna. I certainly remember well.”
I sighed, allowing my eyes to drift back to the twin barrels on simple wooden tables, each with its own mug, that waited for us.
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