Page 43 of Merciful Salvation

“Visiting your kinsmen will make me miss my family more. I need time to think—away from you.” She started down the hill.

“Where are you going, lass?” he called after her.

“To find Jarl Sigurdsson.”

Kara followed the narrow footpath that eventually led to a stone archway, which opened into a wide courtyard. There were no women about, only warriors sparring or drinking and lounging like spoiled princes. Without asking, she entered, only to be questioned.

“Who are you?”

She suddenly felt clumsy in her peasant gown as she gaped at the huge conscript who blocked her way. If only she had worn leather and carried her sword. “Kara Dalgaard.”

“Where did you come from?”

“The dock. I’ve just arrived—”

“Bond or freewoman?” he asked, looking at her dress.

“Freewoman.” She wiped her brow with the back of her hand.Damn the hot sun.

“Go inside.”

Quietly, she crossed the threshold of the great hall. Accustomed to luxury, she still admired the comfort that surrounded her. The flagstones were polished and the tapestries on the walls were exquisite—lovelier than any she’d ever seen. Battle scenes were illustrated in silver and gold thread—Valkyries tending the dying and women weeping for their husbands and sons. At the far end of the chamber, a man who greatly resembled Aaron, sat on a carved chair. Although his hair was fairer, those eyes were unmistakable, as menacing and aware as Jarl McNally’s. She shivered.

Tacked on an overhang above the imposing man’s head was the most intricately woven of arras. Swirling gray mist opened to blue skies. High golden gates surrounded an opulent hall. She recognizedValhalla with dozens of faceless warriors. Allfather stood at the head of a table. If only her fingers were capable of producing such finery. She explored further. A musician strummed his harp in the corner and people were shuffling in and out of the hall. A smile lit the stranger’s face as she approached the dais.

“Daughter of Odin,” he greeted, “what brings you to my hall?”

She took a deep, shaky breath. Still irritated with Aaron, she didn’t think before she spoke. “Your deceptive cousin.”

He bellowed with laughter, then scratched his bearded chin. “I warmly welcome anyone who shares a common opinion of my kinsman. And where is Aaron?”

Hmmm. Without revealing her lover’s identity, Tyr knew exactly who she meant. Jarl McNally was even disreputable amongst his own family? “He’s—”

“Here.”

Kara winced at the sound of Aaron’s voice.

Tyr stood. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

“My plans changed.” Aaron threw her a fleeting look. “Blame this vixen’s irreverent disobedience.”

Tyr chuckled. “Not all defiance should be seen as bad.”

“I’ll leave that to your excellent discretion.” Aaron made a sweeping bow.

“Tell me,” Tyr addressed Kara. “What carelessness are you guilty of?”

Uncomfortable that all attention was focused on her, Kara shuffled her feet. Curious people started to gather around them. She should have never insulted Aaron publicly or sought an audience with his cousin without a proper introduction. Once again, her heedless temperament had gotten her into trouble. Instead of answering right away, she stared at the high windows overlooking Tyr’s throne. Sunlight spilled across the floor. The apertures were fashioned after sacred runes.

“Have you lost your voice?” Aaron asked.

“No,” she said. “I’m sorry, milord.” She gazed at Tyr. “Your cousin has done nothing wrong, except lure me north under false pretenses without a chaperone.”

“A serious grievance, if I’ve ever heard one.” Tyr eyeballed his cousin.

“The lass is unharmed.”

“I see no bruises,” Tyr observed. “But some wounds are invisible to the eye.”