Mistress of the Wind (10 page)

His heart soared, light as air. Free. Even becoming a man again had not felt as wonderful as Astrid’s respect and regard.

But still, Bjorn wondered if she knew how hard it would be to deny her family’s wishes, wondered how they would be received tomorrow.

Initially with dismay, he guessed. Her father and Eric would assume Bjorn had come to return her, and ask for his gold back.

If they hurt her feelings, if they made her unhappy, they would be very, very sorry.

* * *

She knew Bjorn was nervous. Whether because he feared she would want to stay, or because they were so exposed to the mysterious and powerful Norga, she could not say. Perhaps both.

She was nervous herself. She was not the same Astrid she had once been, and her family would not be the same, either.

They had gold, but the price had been her. For some, that was a guilt-free exchange, for others, a burden.

“I want to get down and walk beside you, Bjorn,” she called as they neared the forest’s edge. She needed control, the ability to slow her steps, if this sudden fear within her became too much.

Less than four weeks ago this place had been her home. Now, as she slid down her lover’s back her hand trembled, and her knees felt like buckling.

“I can hear an ax,” Bjorn murmured, and Astrid stopped to listen.

At last, she heard it too. The rhythmic thud of metal on wood.

“I’d have thought they had no more need for wood chopping, with the gold you gave them.”

“Shall we see?” Bjorn asked her, and she nodded, relieved to delay approaching the house for a while longer.

It was Tomas, his hair a halo of gold in the sunlight as he swung his ax, shirtless even though the air was cool, the sweat glistening on his back. He worked with total focus, hypnotized by the rhythm of his actions.

Astrid’s heart lurched at the sight of him. Her handsome, strong brother, who had been her champion since the day she was born.

“Tomas.”

His eyes flicked to hers and he froze, ax over shoulder. With a cry, he buried the ax-head deep into the tree and ran to her, sweeping her up and holding her close.

“You are safe.”

She threw back her head and laughed in delight. “I am safe.” Her gaze went to Bjorn, and Tomas lowered her, reaching for his shirt hanging on a branch and slipping it over his head before he turned to bow.

“You have brought her back, Bear?” There was an edge to his tone, and Astrid realized he thought Bjorn was unhappy with her, returning her like used baggage.

“Only for one day. She missed you, and wished to see you again. We leave this evening.”

“Ah.” Tomas’ face was unreadable.

“We were on the way to the cottage, and heard you chopping. Do you still need the money, after the gold?”

Tomas looked in the direction of the house. “I chop because I cannot bear to sit around doing nothing.” He looked deeply unhappy. “I chop because every bite I eat tastes like sawdust, my new feather mattress feels as though it is made of nails and my new clothes are like sackcloth.”

“Because the price was me?” Astrid threw her arms around him. “Oh, Tomas. I am happy. Do not worry about that. It makes me sad to think you do not benefit from the gold, while Father and Eric do. Please, take some and build a house of your own. Get away from them.”

“
Are
you happy?” Tomas held her gaze, and despite herself, Astrid blushed. Nodded.

“I am. I live in a magical palace, where my every wish is granted.”

“And for company?” Again, she could not read his eyes.

“I have company.”

“But you are not gone four weeks and you seek ours again?” Tomas looked at Bear, and Astrid thought she saw an accusation in his eyes.

“Your sister is better treated with me than she ever was here,” Bjorn said, his voice quiet, the rumble of it sinister in the deep woods. “During the day, she is well cared for, and in the night—”

“What happens in the night?” Tomas cried out, looking between them.

“In the night, I am well cared for as well.” Astrid spoke without flinching.

“What have we done?” Tomas whispered to himself, rubbing a hand over his face, but Astrid would have none of it.

“At night, my Bear becomes a man, and comes to me as a husband. And I say again, I am happy.”

They fell into silence, and a robin started trilling its song again in the quiet.

“Come, the day is wasting.” Bjorn started forward, and Astrid could see from the way he looked from side to side he was nervous of their standing too long in the woods.

“Why do you not stay the night?” Tomas asked Astrid, and she shook her head.

“We must get back.”

Tomas hesitated, as if to ask her why, then casting a glance at Bjorn, he pulled his ax out of the tree and picked up a small bundle besides the trunk. She had a feeling he would try to ask her later, out of Bjorn’s hearing.

He waited for Astrid to walk ahead of him down the narrow path.

“I have to warn you. Things are much changed.”

* * *

Things were much changed.

The fields lay in untended disrepair, and a lean-to had been added to the house. Parked beneath it was a carriage, and a horse stood grazing on the carrots she had once been in such trouble for neglecting.

“The house looks the same,” Astrid said, surprised, her fingers clenching in Bjorn’s fur. She walked with her hand on his neck, a nervous gesture she could not help.

Tomas snorted. “They are building a big house in town. Work started on it last week already, and Father spends his days there, ordering the workmen about.”

“So Father will not be here?” Astrid was ashamed at the relief she felt. He could do nothing to her anymore. She did not have to endure his fists and his cruel words. She belonged elsewhere, now.

“I’m sure he isn’t. The other wagon is gone. He and Eric both wanted one, so they got two.”

“And Freja?”

“She is getting married. They announced the news two days after you left.”

She didn’t waste a moment, Astrid thought bitterly, then felt ashamed. How long had Freja waited already? And what would delaying the inevitable have helped?

“I am glad for her. I thought she might use her share that way.”

They were almost at the house, and Bjorn stopped. “Can I trust my lady’s safety to you?” he asked Tomas.

Tomas looked as if he’d been slapped. “You can.” His cheeks burned red.

“Then I will wait outside, let Astrid go in with you alone.”

“What will you do?” Astrid whispered to him, knowing he wished to give her time alone with Mother.

“Patrol around the house, and the woods. Make sure Norga did not work out where we went to.” He spoke in a low rumble, and she hoped Tomas had not heard.

“I will see you later, then.” She put her arms around his neck and laid her cheek against him, then stepped back. Drew back her shoulders.

As she turned, the door opened and her mother stepped out of the house onto the porch. She cried out, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Astrid.”

Astrid walked forward with Tomas at her side, and felt rather than saw Bjorn lope off again into the woods.

“Mother.” Happiness kicked up within her at the sight of her mother in a pretty gown, her hair up and a less desperate look about her. But when she got nearer, she saw her mother’s eyes were as pain-filled as ever.

“You . . . are back?” Her mother’s gaze fell behind Astrid’s shoulder, and she knew she was looking at Bjorn as he disappeared into the trees.

“Just for the day.” She drew her mother close. “We must go back tonight. My Bear has many duties, and was generous to bring me such a long way for a visit as it is.” She looked sideways at Tomas, and he looked straight back, unimpressed. He would probe further, she knew, if she let him. He would want to know what duties Bjorn had that were so pressing.

“Come in, and let me get you something to eat.” Her mother looked flustered as she drew Astrid into the house, as if embarrassed at the bounty piled on the old table.

Another who looks at all the gold has bought and cannot accept the price paid for it.

“I have said this to Tomas, and I say this to you, Mother. I am happy. I want you to enjoy what Bear’s gold can buy you. I want you free of worry, or I can never be.”

“But he is a
bear
, Astrid. A bear.”

“Not all the time,” Astrid answered. “And bear or not, I love him already.”

“When you say not all the time . . .?” Her mother looked desperately at Tomas.

“She means at night he comes to her as a man. As a husband.” Tomas did not look away from her when he spoke, and the look on his face made her temper flare hot as a forge fire.

“Those were the conditions of my acceptance,” she cried. “I was to be wife to him in all but name, and I have honored that. And found contentment in it.” She paused, and looked him straight in the eye. “Joy, even.”

She watched his cheeks flush again.

“Do not look at me with your accusing eyes, Tomas, as if I have somehow betrayed
you
.” She clasped her hands before her, trying to still them in her agitation. “I did not see you following me to make sure of my safety. I did not hear either of you stand up to Father.”

Her mother began to sob, and Tomas put a hand on her shoulder. Shook his head.

“You are right.” His throat worked. “And I swear, there is not a day goes by that I do not regret that.”

“Cast your regret aside,” Astrid told him, sweeping her fine fur-lined cloak from her shoulders and setting it over the back of a chair. “I have none of my own.”

Chapter Seventeen

“A
strid, you must leave him. Come back to us.” Her mother laid down a plate of cheese and meat, bread and apples.

Astrid looked out the window at Tomas saddling the horse to ride to town and fetch the others back to see her, and took a bite of apple before she answered.

“It is too late, Mother. I am his. You know that. And I do not wish to leave him.”

“And some of the gold has already been spent.” Her mother plucked at her new dress. “Is he handsome, your Bear? When he comes to you at night?”

Astrid took another bite of apple. She did not want to tell her mother the details, but she found she could not lie. “I do not know.”

Her mother stopped fussing over the food and grabbed the back of a chair. “How can you not know?”

“He will not let me see him. He douses every light, and comes to me in the darkness.” Frustration rose in her again, just saying it.

“Oh.” Her mother’s hands covered the lower part of her face, her eyes wide with horror. “Then it is true. He
is
a troll.”

“He is not a troll, Mother. I have seen one, and the man I feel against me in the night is
not
a troll.” She thought of the broad chest, the muscled arms her fingers traced. The straight, fine nose, and high cheekbones.

“Then why will he not let you see him?”

“He says he cannot tell me. It is part of his enchantment.”

Her mother turned, opened a drawer and pulled out a small tallow candle. “Take this, and while he sleeps, light it and see what he really is.”

“He has asked me not to do that.” But she had not agreed to obey him.

Her mother tossed her head. “What he wants is of no concern to me. I only worry about you. See what he is, and if he is a monster, run back to us. Gold or no gold.” She thrust the candle at Astrid.

Astrid took it, turned it in her hand, still undecided. “I will need a tinderbox, to light it.”

“Here.” Her mother found one and pressed it into her palm.

Astrid stood a moment, eyes closed, as she battled herself, then dropped the candle into the bundle she’d brought with her. She hated the gnawing sense of unease she felt. It bordered on guilt.

She’d told Bear she would not stop trying until she could see him. His deal with his enchanter was between them, and had nothing to do with her. But the guilty feeling did not subside.

“That troll. The one you saw long ago. Tell me the story.” Astrid watched her mother’s gaze flick to the window, to check they were still alone, then she slipped into a chair.

“You were no more than three, and I had lost Tomas in the forest. He was with us one moment, while we picked berries, then gone the next. I wasn’t worried, he knew his way, but then I heard a cry, the sound of a small boy.” She leaned back, and Astrid could see the fear she’d felt. “I picked you up and ran in the direction of the noise, burst into a clearing without even looking what was there first. I thought only of getting to Tomas.”

Her mother clasped her hands on the table, and her fingers wove through each other, over and over.

“The clearing was wonderfully light. It was near the end of summer, and muggy. There were gnats buzzing, and birds singing, as if this was an ordinary, warm summer day. But there was also a strange breeze.” She lifted a hand, and wiped across her forehead, as if there was sweat there. As if she were back in that hot, bright clearing.