We took part in the rest of the festival, good-naturedly congratulating Skarde on his victory. Søren introduced me to the chieftain, Åse, who was sincere in his compliments about my ability to both drink and captain a ship. There was something there, a moment when I thought he was going to say something else, but then it had passed.
We hung about, enjoying in the celebration, until the afternoon shadows grew long and we could make an excuse about the long walk back to Björn’s farm.
But when we could finally slip away and head up the path toward home, the atmosphere took a decided turn toward the dark.
My head was pounding, and I was in no mood to explain why I was so utterly hopeless, but I felt like they deserved an explanation.
“Guys,” I paused on the path, and the three men stopped with me. “I feel as if you should know what happened. I need to bring it up because it may continue to be a problem for us.”
Leif was quick to reassure me. “Brenna, it’s okay. It was a long shot to begin with. Skarde had so many more men to row. We didn’t honestly expect to win it.”
At that revelation, my eyes flashed to Søren, who stared back at me, his face impassive, unrepentant.
So he set me up to fail. Figures.
“Even so, we were very far ahead, and then Skarde gained on us, rapidly. Because Thor helped him.”
“Thor?”
“Are you sure?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Yes, I know Thor when I see him, okay?” I leveled a glare in Søren’s direction at the insinuation that I was mistaken, or making it up. Did he forget who I was? “He was perched on that rock we sailed around, and at first I thought he was there to help me, turn the wind and push us back to the shore. But then when Skarde turned, Thor focused the storm on Skarde’s sails and ours fell flat. He pushed him ahead of us.”
“Why would he do that?” Leif was genuinely curious.
“I don’t honestly know, but it can’t bode well for us. If Odin has Thor helping him to thwart me, it’s possible every time I set foot on a ship he could stir up trouble for us. If there’s more going on in this village, that could also be a problem for us. You’ve mentioned before how Skarde seems to constantly, impossibly, succeed in the face of stronger or cleverer men. Who’s to say that he’s not receiving help?
“I hope that Skarde is receiving help, and not that all of Asgard is against me. If that’s the case, we can work with it. As long as we aren’t in direct conflict with Skarde, we don’t have to worry about interference. If it’s all of them trying to punish me… well, there’s no limit to how they could make things difficult for us.”
“I can’t believe that Thor would come down from Asgard just to help Skarde win this contest. How would it benefit him? Why would he care?” Søren challenged me again.
“Well, that’s what we have to figure out, Søren. If it’s about helping Skarde be successful, there may be a bigger game at play than we realize. If it’s about punishing me, it may be more problematic than we thought.”
Søren rubbed at his bearded chin for a moment, thinking. Finally, he said, “We’ll figure it out,” and started walking uphill again. I shrugged at the other two, and we continued along the path.
Leif turned at his spot, Søren soon after, and once again it was just Björn and I climbing toward his farm.
“Brenna… just so you know, I believe you. About Thor. I heard you shout at him, and there’s no way you’d have said that to Skarde.”
“Thank you,” I replied, my voice low.
“And I think it was unfair of Søren to have you take that challenge when you didn’t know what it would be. I heard you get sick on the boat, too,” he confessed. “How is your stomach?”
“My stomach is fine. It’s my head that’s pounding. I should probably drink more water and eat something. I’d kill for a tylenol.” I muttered the last bit to myself, not expecting him to hear me.
Björn glanced at me curiously. “What is tilynole?”
The dark chuckle escaped my chest in a huff of breath. “Just a kind of… magic we had, where I came from. It made headaches disappear, like that!” I snapped my fingers.
“You had that magic where you were a valkyrie? Before Odin?”
I hesitated, then nodded. It was the easiest explanation. “Yes.”
“What was your home like?”
We spent the rest of the journey discussing Valkyr, and while the memories brought a smile to my lips, it ached deeply within my heart to remember that my home was no more. To think of the memories that would be indelibly tied to places that didn’t exist. And people who no longer lived.
Sadness for my losses merged with the depression brought on by alcohol and the afternoon’s defeat, and I felt heavy under the combined force of it all.
As we approached the homestead, we realized the entire side of the barn was still propped open. Björn and I glanced at each other and redirected our feet toward the barn without speaking a word. He lifted the mat of boards that created the wall, and I removed the massive posts from first one side, then the other. Once the wall was replaced, I stepped toward the door to the barn and told Björn to go on without me. When he tried to insist he would wait for me, I had to explain.
“I’m going inside to put on my armor and fly for a while, Björn. It’ll help me recover, deal with the sadness in my heart better. I’m only a half a person when I’m not wearing it. Eventually it catches up to me.”
Stubbornly, Björn shook his head. “You know, I’ve watched you Brenna. I’ve thought about this a good deal, and I know you are attached to your armor. I’m sure it holds a great deal of importance to you.
“But I don’t believe you are half a person without it. I believe you might not be exceptionally strong of heart, or spirit, without it. Perhaps there’s something there. But when you first came to us, you weren’t heartless, nor were you soulless. Yes, you were sad. You still cared about Signe’s injury, trying to determine how you could help her. You still played with Astrid and were still gentle with Yrsa.”
He stepped closer, the bright moonlight bleaching his golden hair to silver and glittering in his dark blue eyes. My heart throbbed in my chest; I knew that look.
Björn’s voice dropped, his tone becoming deeper, gruffer with emotion. “Despite besting me in a sword match, and listening to me claim I wanted you to send me to Valhalla, you held back. Was that a heartless, soulless person who did that? No, I don’t think so. Brenna, whether you believe it, you are a good person, a kind person, a whole person, without your magical armor. I see it, and so can anyone with half a brain.” Large, warm palms rose to claim my cheeks, and this time when Björn kissed me it was so gentle, so sweet, that I sighed and leaned back against the door behind me.
Encouraged, he pressed forward, and my hands reached up to pull me closer to him.
The hairs of his beard tickled my nose and chin, but I didn’t mind. This man—this man had seen me at my absolute lowest of lows, and didn’t consider that to be a broken person. He saw beauty in me, goodness in me, even when I was without my armor. That alone was enough to make me cling to his body for comfort. I needed someone to see me that way. Not just the side of me I showed them; Björn had seen me crying into the laundry tub in absolute despair. If he believed I was still a worthy person in that moment, then perhaps there was something more, something I wasn’t seeing.
My lips parted, and I welcomed his tongue to explore my mouth with a lick of his lower lip. The invitation eagerly accepted, Björn pressed me harder against the door, his hands dropping from my face to trace down my neck. One continued down to cup my breast while the other reached behind me, braced against the wood. My body warmed under his touch, heating with the desire to get closer, feel his skin under my fingertips.
The loud whinny of the horse sent us jumping apart and glancing toward the house guiltily. I didn’t see anyone coming, but bless that horse for bringing me to my senses.
“Björn, thank you for saying those things. I still feel like I need to don my armor and go for a flight. Perhaps you’re right, and it’s some kind of crutch that I should outgrow. But for now, I trust it.”
Still breathing heavily in the wake of our kissing, Björn released a long, slow breath and nodded. “Go, then. Do what you need to do.” He ran both hands over his braided crown of hair and turned toward the longhouse.
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