I needed to see who it was.
There wasn’t space to climb through the hole and into the hall, so I swiftly climbed back down, scuttling around the side of the building. I crouched in the shadows, waiting to see who’d emerge, but the door remained shut. Unease filled my chest, and I crept up to the door, quietly opening it.
Lanterns still burned inside the hall, illuminating the statues, but nothing stirred. Whoever had been in here with Harald was gone.
“Shit,” I snarled, twisting on my heels to scan the shadows, searching for a fleeing figure, but all I saw were people dancing around fires in the distance.
Who was it? Who had been conspiring with Harald?
Was it someone I knew?
A good mother protects her son…Unease filled my chest, and I circled the revels, searching. It couldn’t be her. Couldn’t be…
Indecision froze me in place. Should I hunt for the spy? Continue my search for Bjorn? Attempt to find Snorri to warn him?
A group of revelers staggered past me, one nearly knocking me over, only to shout, “Join us!”
I ignored him as I righted myself, but when I looked up, it was to see a hooded woman walking toward the hall where I was supposed to be sleeping.
Where Bjorn was supposed to be sleeping.
A building protected only by the wards that she had cast, because she’d ensured no guards stood watch. And she’d done so in order to meet with Harald, because she was plotting with him to get rid of Bjorn to make way for Leif to inherit.
Ylva. I was sure of it.
My hands balled into fists as I watched her reach for the door, already relishing the shock that would fill her face when she realized neither Bjorn nor I was inside. When she realized her plan hadn’t worked.
Ylva’s hand closed over the latch, opening the door, but as she moved to cross the threshold it was as though one of the gods themselves had swung a mighty fist, launching her backward. She landed square on her arse, a half dozen paces back from the door.
I almost crowed with delight. Her own wards had worked against her, denying entrance to any who desired to harm our party. Denying her entrance.
My elation was short-lived, as hands closed on my arms, yanking me back into the trees.
I wrenched free from my attacker, swinging my fist toward the shadowy face, only to pull up short as I recognized Bjorn in the dark.
“What are you doing out here, Freya?” he hissed. “Anyone could take you.”
Relief flooded my veins, though it was replaced by irritation. “Where did you go?”
“There was someone I needed to speak to,” he said. “When I returned to the hall, you were gone. I’ve been hunting for you. Where have you been?”
“Looking for you. And spying.” Then I blurted out, “Ylva is working with Harald.”
He went still. “What are you talking about?”
“I overheard them speaking in the Hall of the Gods,” I hissed. “She’s conspiring with him to kill you so Snorri will have to name Leif heir.”
Silence.
Slowly, Bjorn asked, “You saw Ylva speaking to Harald?”
We didn’t have time for this. We needed to find Snorri. “I didn’t see her, but I heard enough of the conversation. I…” My words trailed off, because through the trees, warriors who looked incredibly sober were walking among the revelers, examining the face of everyone they came across.
“I don’t know if she convinced him to take you or if he still plans to kill you,” Bjorn whispered, then pulled on my arm. “I need to get you to my father and his warriors.”
“Where is he?” I hissed, tripping over a root as I followed him at a trot.
“Meeting with other jarls. This way.”
I was forced to break into a run to keep up, but then Bjorn slid to a stop. Ahead of us, men carrying torches walked through the trees, searching the shadows. We turned, but behind us there were more men.
“How many warriors does Harald have?” Fear turned my hands to ice because there was nowhere to go. Unarmed as we were, there was no chance this number of men wouldn’t be able to subdue us. Then it was only a matter of dragging us outside the borders of Fjalltindr and tossing us off the mountain.
“Too many.” Bjorn turned to me. “We’ll have to hide in plain sight.”
I could feel the hammer of his heart where my hand pressed against his chest, feel the quickening of his breath that betrayed his fear, magnifying my own. “How?”
“Do you trust me?”
More than I should, I thought, but only nodded. “Yes.”
“Follow my lead,” he said and pulled the hood of his cloak forward. I didn’t have so much as a heartbeat to wonder what that might entail before his mouth closed over mine.
For a second, I froze, so astonished that Bjorn was kissing me that I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. And then instinct took over and my arms slipped around his neck, and I kissed him back.
Bjorn stilled, and I wondered if he’d expected me to slap him rather than respond in kind. Except not only did I understand that this ruse could save our necks, I wanted Bjorn to kiss me.
And I didn’t want it to stop there.
Bjorn’s surprise vanished in an instant, his hands catching me by the hips and lifting me, my legs wrapping around his waist and my shoulders pressing against the tree behind me. His lips found mine again, his breath hot, and his stubbled chin rough against my skin as he consumed me.
There was nothing sweet about it. Nothing tender.
Which meant it was exactly what I wanted. What I needed in this moment where I was getting what I’d dreamed of even as danger walked ever closer.
Though I knew this was meant to be a distraction that would cause the searchers to pass me by, that seemed a distant concern as Bjorn’s tongue slipped into my mouth, stroking over mine. He tasted of mead, and with every inhale I scented pine and snow and wind over the fjord. It unleashed something wild in me, and I tightened my legs, drawing him closer to me as my skirts pushed up my thighs.
Pine needles crunched as footsteps came closer, and I drew back, biting at his bottom lip and meeting his gaze. “This isn’t enough to dissuade interruption, Bjorn,” I said under my breath. “Make it convincing.”
“Gods, woman,” he growled, then his mouth was on mine again, his tongue teasing my lips open as he let go of my arse with one hand. Reaching up, he caught hold of the laces of my dress, pulling them loose with a sharp jerk.
The footsteps drew closer, and a seed of doubt formed in my heart that this would work. Growing certainty that they wouldn’t be fooled into believing us revelers and would demand to see our faces.
My heart hammered a rapid beat as I let go of Bjorn long enough to pull my sleeves down, the fabric of the bodice rubbing over my breasts in a way that made my back arch. My shoulders pressed hard against the tree and the antlers on my mask scratched against the bark in a seductive rhythm as I ground my hips against him. The night air kissed my nipples, though it was his slow exhalation that turned them hard, a moan tearing from my lips as he cupped one breast, his thumb stroking over the tip.
Never in my life had I been kissed like this. Touched like this. And gods, it made me feel things I hadn’t believed possible. Things I thought only talk and exaggeration and stories, but the aching need building between my thighs told me that I’d been very wrong. I wanted to peel the clothes from his body and taste every inch of him. Wanted to rid myself of my dress and discover what it would feel like having him buried deep inside me.