Page 64 of Soul of Fire

We should have anticipated it.

The Book wasn’t right, Idunn insisted.

You keep saying that, I sighed, but you have yet to tell me why.

I am unsure. I just know.

Arik frowned. “You didn’t—“

The door banged open, and a young man with scraggly blonde hair and blue eyes peered out. His beard was patchy in places, as if he were trying to grow it out for the first time, and his face ran agamut of emotions so quickly it was hard to keep up. Fury at being roused. Terror at seeing Arik’s scowl and pointed ears. And then confusion mixed with…relief?

“Eisa!” Without warning, his arms were around my neck in a hug so fierce he would have knocked me backward into the mud if not for Arik’s firm hand on my back.

“Anders?” He was only a few months older, but he was taller somehow. More muscular. His voice was lower. The scrawny, blonde boy I grew up with had been replaced by this…this man. I clutched him tighter. “Holy gods, Anders!”

“Mormor said you would come back.” His voice was suddenly smaller as he held me, as if the emotion were too much for him. “But I didn’t really believe her.”

“You should always believe Mormor.” I pushed out of Anders’ arms with some difficulty, wiping the tears from my eyes with an extremely wet sleeve. “Where is she?”

“Any chance we can take this inside?” Arik’s voice was gentle, but his hand on my back was firm and urgent.

Anders paled and nodded, his wide blue eyes trained on my mate as Arik pushed me forward and into the warmth of the bakery.

My stomach growled loudly as the scent of warm bread hit me.

I smell food. Idunn had perked up, her distress over Baldur tempered by the promise of a meal.I am so hungry.

Soon, dearest,I promised, placing a hand over my belly as nausea warred with hunger. The flight had been a glorious reprieve, but Iwas still on my cycle, which added to my physical misery.I’m not sure I can keep anything down.

You must. I am hungry.

She was so matter-of-fact about it, I had to stifle a chuckle despite my discomfort.

“Tell me everything, Eisa.” Anders blue eyes were wide with awe and excitement, as well as a little wariness of Arik. “What color is your dragon? Does he breathe fire? Have you learned to fight? Why is your nose bleeding?”

“She,” I corrected, wiping my nose absently as Anders took a breath amid his stream of questions. “And I—“

“Anders, what—“ A huge man dressed in a flour-covered apron appeared in the door on one side of the bakery, a rolling pin held tightly in one hand. He stopped short as he saw us, opened his mouth once, and closed it again.

“We’re not open yet—“ A woman appeared next to the man, also covered in flour. Her face paled as she took us in.

A tall boy appeared beside her, perhaps a year older than Anders, his eyes widening with surprise.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Anders said, raising his hands as his face flushed pink.

Arik arched his brow as if to ask what itdidlook like.

The woman recovered from her surprise far faster than her husband and gave the older boy a push behind her. “Go fetch some blankets, Leif.” The boy nodded and retreatedas the woman turned to her husband. “And you. Fetch a loaf of bread from the ovens.”

“But Hilde…” The man looked stunned, his eyes fixed firmly on Arik’s pointed ears and tattooed scalp. “The D-drage…”

“Stein!” Hilde hissed and gave him a shove toward the kitchen as the older boy returned and handed her a single blanket.

Hilde rolled her eyes at the boy, then turned and offered us a stilted curtsy. “Apologies for my husband’s rudeness.”

“Thank you,” I said, giving Hilde what I hoped was a disarming smile as she handed me the blanket. It was threadbare and mended in several places, but I wrapped it around my shoulders, grateful for any amount of warmth. “I’m sorry for our intrusion.”

She nodded, wringing her hands together as she stepped in front of her son. “Leif is only seventeen. And Anders is sixteen.”