Page 79 of Sky in the Deep
FORTY-THREE
They were talking about numbers.
The number of Aska.
The number of Riki.
The number of Herja.
After hours of discussion, the Riki village leaders left the house quiet. The fire crackled in the pit between Iri’s old family and his new one. I swallowed hard, wondering which one I was part of now.
My father asked questions, but not too many. He didn’t want too many answers. He just wanted to be happy that Iri’s heart was still beating. But Iri would have to answer for what he’d done eventually, and we all knew it.
Inge came down the ladder with two mats for my father and Mýra. “Your cot is still in the loft.”
I knew it wouldn’t take long for them to put it together. The understanding sunk into Mýra’s face, followed by myfather’s. And the confusion written there quickly turned to disgust. “You weretheir dýr?” Mýra spat, standing.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I was exhausted. I didn’t have the will to explain. And there was no explanation that could satisfy them. Not ever. If I were Mýra, I’d feel the same way.
My father looked down at Inge with a hard, cold stare before he wrenched the mats from her arms and went outside. Mýra followed him, slamming the door behind her, and Inge flinched.
“I’m sorry.” Her face fell.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t say it was alright, because it wasn’t. Instead, I took the newly bound bundles of sage from the table and pulled a torch from the wall. I leaned over the fire, lighting it, and then headed for the door. I needed the sky stretching out over me and drowning out the swirl of everyone and everything in this village.
I walked out into the dark and could sense the bodies behind the closed doors and in the trees. Fela had become a sanctuary, seething with the anger of the Riki. The houses glowed with night fires burning to keep mourning families warm.
I swallowed it down.
The dead Aska. The dead Riki. All of it.
The path curved toward the incline until I reached the cellar. I kicked the snow from before the door so I could open it and put the torch into the mount on the wall. The scent of the sweet sage made my head swim with the memory of thefirst time I’d walked into Fiske’s home. And I couldn’t understand the feeling that followed it. I wanted it all to fit into a place inside me that made sense. I wanted to hate them all for everything that had happened.
But when I followed the trail back, it had started with me.
I was the one who watched Iri get cut down in battle. I left him. And I was the one who followed him into the forest the night they captured me.
It began with me. I’d made a choice.
Like Fiske had made a choice when he saved Iri’s life.
The hinges on the door creaked and I went for my knife.
Fiske stood at its opening. He pushed the door closed behind him and the moonlight was cut out, leaving only the light of the torch on the wall. My hands clenched tighter around the sage, the scent still fragrant in my lungs. He looked at me and the hardness that always hid his face fell away. I could see him again. The way I had at the river. The way I had in Hylli. The open, tender part of him that was reaching out. It moved across the floor of the cellar and touched me. It lit the inside of me on fire.
Tears stung behind my eyes and I tried to blink them back, but I wanted to see him. I wanted to feel him. And as if he could hear me think it, he crossed the space between us slowly. The toes of his boots almost touched mine as he took the bundles of sage from my arms and he reached up, leaning over me to hang them from the line.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
But he didn’t answer. He looked down at me before hishands lifted, finding my face, and he stepped closer. His fingers wound into my hair until I tipped my head back and I sucked in a breath.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was deep.
I searched his face. “For what?”
He dropped his head down, his lips hovering over mine. “For everything.”
His fingers curled tighter into my braids and he kissed me. He dove down deep inside of me, filling me up with the warmth the winter had stolen away. Melting the frosted, frozen pieces.
