‘It’s what the healer wants.’
‘It’s all right, Joarr.’ Hilda removed his hand herself and took a few cautious steps forward, her face tight with anxiety.
When she was within reaching distance, Sissa slowly unfurled her fingers, revealing the three arrow pendants in her palm. The other woman let out a horrified gasp and recoiled, her face blanching instantly.
‘Where did you get those?’
Sissa didn’t respond, keeping her eyes fixed on her face instead. There was shock there, yes, horror even, but guilt? No, if anything she looked more confused than guilty...
‘What is it? A threat?’ Joarr shoved his way past Knut and strode forward, his nostrils flaring as he looked at the arrows in her hand. ‘What do they mean?’
‘They’re my pendants.’ Hilda’s eyes were wide. ‘The ones Sigurd gave me after our sons were born. I’d know them anywhere, but I don’t understand...’ She grabbed hold of his sleeve, tugging him closer and murmuring so softly that Sissa could barely make out the words.
‘Tell us how you came by these.’ Joarr looked up again, his expression like granite. ‘Did you steal them?’
‘Joarr.’ Knut’s voice was heavy with warning. ‘You will not accuse her, not here in my village.’
‘I want some answers.’
‘Maybe so, but she’s our healer and she’s valuable to us. She cures our people when they’re sick. She cured my wife. You will not offend her.’
There were a few seconds of tense silence while Joarr continued to glare, before he grasped Hilda’s arm and pulled her back towards the hall. ‘As you wish.’
‘Lady.’ Knut gave her a strained-looking smile. ‘Forgive my kinsman. He meant no insult, but we don’t understand. If you could explain somehow...or show us more...?’
She didn’t answer, levelling one last look at Hilda before turning on her heel and walking back towards the gates. There, it was done. She’d achieved what she’d come for. She had the answer Danr wanted and more besides...but she could feel Joarr’s gaze burning a hole in her back the whole way.
Chapter Seventeen
‘What do you want?’ Danr pushed Halvar’s muzzle out of his face as the wolf nudged and then licked him awake. ‘Is it time for dagmal already? You know we have to bathe first. It’s the rule.’
He gave a wide yawn and folded his good arm behind his head, resisting the urge to scratch the other one where his scar was itching. The sky above his head was greyer than yesterday and, if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of moisture in the air, doubtless a prelude to heavier rain, but the sun was already higher than he’d expected. He must have slept longer because of the mead...
‘We’ll wait for our womenfolk to come back, shall we?’ He smiled at the thought of Sissa and Tove. ‘What tasks do you think she’ll have for me today? Catching a stag with my bare hands? Wrestling a wild boar? Or maybe...’
He stopped, struck with the sudden, sharp impression that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t anything about his surroundings either. The world around him looked the same as it had the previous night. No, it was something closer, something about him, something that felt different... He lifted a hand to his chest, though it still took him a few more seconds to locate the source, or rather the absence of a source.
What? He fumbled around his neck as if he might be imagining things, but the leather pouch was definitely gone. Not just that, but the cord it hung from, too.
‘Sissa!’ He roared her name, already knowing it wouldn’t do any good. She was the only one who could have taken it and he knew exactly the reason why!
He was on his feet in a second, strapping on his sword belt and sprinting out of the clearing. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as well as his chest, like a hammer against an anvil as he leapt over rocks and fallen branches, hurtling through the forest like a madman, Halvar at his side. If he’d had any doubts about his feelings for Sissa before, he knew what they were now. If she’d put herself in danger, then he’d fight until the last breath left his body to save her. He’d take on every man in the village and more; he’d fight Joarr one-handed; he’d tear the whole place apart... Thoughts of violence coursed through his head, none of them quite able to distract from the fear gripping his chest.
He was running so fast he almost charged headlong into her. She was looking over her shoulder, unaware of him at first either, so that he had to dodge quickly to one side, skidding to a halt just before he barrelled into a ditch.
‘Sissa,’ he gasped her name, relief flooding through him as he braced his hands on his knees in an attempt to get his breath back. ‘You...where...what were you...?’
‘I’ve been to the village.’ She glanced back in the direction she’d come from. ‘But we need to get away from here. Hurry.’
‘Why?’ He jerked upright again, gripping his sword hilt and drawing the blade halfway from its scabbard. ‘Is someone following you?’
‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so.’ Her brows lowered. ‘It’s just a feeling. Your old friend Joarr doesn’t trust me.’
‘Did he say so? Did he threaten you?’
‘No, but I don’t trust him either.’ She touched his arm as if they were just out for a morning stroll. ‘Come on. We’ll cross the river and then climb part of the way up the mountain in case he tries to track us.’
‘I should stay and fight him.’ Danr glowered through the trees. ‘I’m ready.’