“I'm going with you.”
This had been Estrid's mantra for the last two days. They had been sequestered inside Estrid's home while a blizzard raged beyond their walls, coating Ottar in a blanket of white. She had nearly driven Sibba mad with her insistence, but Sibba had held strong, never once agreeing to take Estrid with her. The last thing she needed was to be responsible for someone else.
“You're not,” she said now for the hundredth time at least as Estrid came from around the side of the house, handing the metal milk pail to Ari and wiping her hands on her apron. Ari, who stood behind Estrid, his nose red from the cold, had made it clear he didn't want to come, but he had not tried to forbid Estrid from traveling. As Thorvald's chief boat builder, he was always busy during the snows, servicing the boats that had been hauled in for the season. He also probably saw her potential absence as an “out of sight-out of mind” situation. If Estrid were gone, the people in Ottar would find something else to talk about besides their illicit love affair and Vyion’s death.
“I owe you,” Estrid said. It was the same argument Sibba had heard before.
“You don't,” Sibba said in protest, but Estrid took one of her hands and squeezed it. The girl had no idea how her touch made Sibba's heart race, how the nearness of her full lips tempted her. But Estrid had made her feelings clear, and Sibba would not make a fool of herself again. She forced herself to look Estrid in the eyes. “This is not your fight.”
“And my trial wasn't yours. I'm indebted to you, but even if I were not, you're my dearest friend. I will not let you leave here alone again.”
Ari leaned on a fencepost and smiled. The fresh milk in the bucket by his feet sent steam into the air.
“I prefer to be alone,” Sibba protested, but she felt herself wavering. This was what Estrid did, convinced people with words and smiles. But knowing that didn’t make it any less effective.
“If I don't repay my debt,” Estrid said, leaning over and picking up a brown leather satchel that Sibba had not seen before, “I will not get into Elanos.”
Sibba had no response for that. The Fieldings believed that anyone who owed a life-debt wouldn’t be admitted into the Realm of Warriors. It would be easier to travel to Ydurgat without any baggage, without anyone depending on her. But it certainly wasn't worth an eternity without her.
She was already caving when Aeris appeared as if out of nowhere and came to perch on Estrid's shoulder. The girl winced at the sudden weight and the sharp talons but smiled up at the bird who sat staring at Sibba.
“Fine,” Sibba said. “But only because Aeris said so. The traitor.” And she turned around before Estrid could see her smile.
? ? ?
It did not take Estrid long to say goodbye. It seemed they had known Sibba would give in to her eventually, and most of her affairs had already been arranged. Ari would, of course, be taking care of her property.
“Bring her back in one piece,” Ari said, “and maybe there will be a reward in it for you.” He did not seem to seriously consider that it might not happen.
Sibba had scoffed and cuffed him on the ear, but he made light of her biggest fear. It was up to her to bring Estrid back. No one expected Estrid to be able to care for herself. If anything happened to her, Sibba would be the one to blame.
“The skiff is small,” Sibba said now as they cut through the market. The villagers were out in droves, making up for the time the storm had stolen from them. “It will not be a comfortable ride.”
“I didn't expect it to be,” Estrid retorted, the smile never leaving her face. Sibba didn't know if she had ever seen her so happy. Maybe she wasn't the only one who wanted to leave Ottar.
They would go by sea into Grimsson territory in the small skiff that Sibba had brought from Ey Island. It was not really seaworthy, but if they stayed in sight of the shore and away from any storms, it would be easier and at least a little faster than traveling over land during the snows. Ydurgat was a port town, situated on the western coastline, and an approach by boat made sense.
They wound their way to the front gate and passed through without incident. Estrid waved at one of the sentries, who raised his eyebrows at her but didn't make any other movement. Sibba rolled her eyes; the girl was just too happy. They were nearly to the other side of the river when someone shouted her name.
“Sibba!” The call came again and she paused, turning and looking past Estrid to see a figure running toward them. It was a boy, slender but tall, his curly black hair tousled with sleep. He was buried beneath a heavy fur cloak, and a longbow jutted out over his shoulder.
“Evenon?” Sibba wondered quietly. If she had been glad for the blizzard, it was because staying inside meant she hadn’t risked running into him after their disastrous first meeting. She flushed at the memory of her lips on his. If she never saw him again, it would be too soon.
“Who?” Estrid asked.
But Sibba did not have a chance to respond. Before she could even turn to run away, he caught up with them. He leaned his hands on his knees to catch his breath, his pack falling forward to his shoulders as he did. She noticed his patched and ragged clothes. His boots looked to be more beat up than even Sibba's.
“What are you doing?” Sibba asked the top of his head. Other travelers were passing them with hardly a glance, but she still felt far too exposed on the bridge with this stranger. How long before it got back to Thorvald that she had taken an entire retinue with her to Ydurgat? She was supposed to be doing this on her own, proving herself to him.
Evenon straightened. His cheeks and chin were dusted lightly with fine dark hairs, and the gash on his cheek had faded to a light pink scar. “I looked for you at the trader's house,” he said. “The boat builder said you'd already left. I wanted— I need to— I wish to accompany you. You would be remiss not to take me with you.”
“Is that so?” Sibba crossed her arms over her chest. She remembered the way his hands had groped in her pockets, how he had left her sitting in the alley beside her own vomit.
“There is strength and safety in numbers,” he said. “I believe I am the only one present who has ever been past Hallowtide borders.” Eyebrows raised, he looked between the girls. Neither one was able to correct him.
“You're the one who came to get me when she was sick the other night,” Estrid said, snapping her fingers, connecting the dots. So he hadn't abandoned Sibba completely; he had at the very least gotten someone else to take care of her. How thoughtful.