as the exile’s path was, she would tread it.
But how would she get away?
She didn’t know how closely she was guarded; she’d been sunk so deeply inside herself that she hadn’t paid attention.
Night would be best. If she could get past those guards …
“Hild.”
Her mother’s voice made her jump. She followed her mother’s gaze to her own hands and saw that she’d been unraveling threads again, this time on the sleeves of her gown.
Willing herself to be calm, clenching her fists to still her fevered fingers, she sat on the stool in front of the fire and tried to quiet the beating of her heart before it gave her away.
She had to break free of here.
She had to escape.
ELEVEN
U NTIL TONIGHT , H ILD HAD CRAVED SLEEP . S HE HAD longed for the moment each day when her mother and Unwen would allow her to crawl into the bed and close its doors. All she had wanted was for her eyes to be shut, for the world to disappear.
Now everything had changed. Although it was deep night, she lay rigid with wakefulness, listening for telltale signs of guards outside the door, trying to determine their habits. She felt as if her thoughts would burst through her skull, yet she couldn’t focus them. One idea spawned countless new ones, and from each of those, hundreds more sprang forth. Whom could she trust? Her mother, of course, but Hild wanted to protect her from the anger of both the king and Bragi. She would have to hide her intentions from her mother. Ari Frothi she was sure of, but how could she makeany plans with him when he wasn’t here? Maybe she could send a message through Unwen—but she didn’t know what message to send.
How could she get away? Even if she was able to get through the gates, where could she go? No farmer would hide her and risk the king’s wrath. The idea of entering the Wolfholt made her shudder—wolves weren’t all that roamed there. Could she take one of the fisherfolk’s boats and cross the lake? Doing so would mean hiking over a mountain range, the dwelling place of giants, before she could reach the Heathobards—who would have no incentive to take her in, and plenty of reasons not to.
It was early morning before her frenzied mind finally allowed her to sleep.
She was still drowsing behind the bed’s doors when raised voices wove themselves into the pattern of her dreams. What they were saying she couldn’t tell, only the tone, and that her mother’s voice was one of them.
Heavy footsteps pounded across the floor. Hild startled fully awake.
“Get her up. Now.” It was Bragi.
Her heart thumped wildly. Did the chief skald know about Ari Frothi’s visit? Did he suspect her plan to escape?
The footsteps retreated and she heard the door open and shut as Bragi left the house. Hild sank heavily back into the mattress, letting out her breath and, with it, all herhopes. Last night had been her chance to get away and she hadn’t taken it. It was too late now.
She waited, trying to compose herself. Whatever was to become of her, she was about to find out.
The bed’s doors opened. Her mother looked in at her, her face pale, shadows etched under her eyes. Without speaking, Hild rose and allowed her mother to help her dress. She didn’t ask why she needed to wear her best gown, the red one she’d worn to serve in the hall. Unwen drifted into and out of her view, trying to assist, but her mother claimed Hild for herself, running the comb through her hair, arranging the knot at her neck, running her fingers through the long black tail that hung down Hild’s back. And all with no words.
Asking would do no good; if her mother was going to tell her anything, she would have done so already. But when her mother insisted on helping with Hild’s shoes, Hild’s apprehension grew close to a breaking point. Desperately, she tried to still her hands and her mind, to accept whatever the gods decreed.
She looked up at Unwen, who stood beside the bed, where Hild sat while her mother knelt at
But how would she get away?
She didn’t know how closely she was guarded; she’d been sunk so deeply inside herself that she hadn’t paid attention.
Night would be best. If she could get past those guards …
“Hild.”
Her mother’s voice made her jump. She followed her mother’s gaze to her own hands and saw that she’d been unraveling threads again, this time on the sleeves of her gown.
Willing herself to be calm, clenching her fists to still her fevered fingers, she sat on the stool in front of the fire and tried to quiet the beating of her heart before it gave her away.
She had to break free of here.
She had to escape.
ELEVEN
U NTIL TONIGHT , H ILD HAD CRAVED SLEEP . S HE HAD longed for the moment each day when her mother and Unwen would allow her to crawl into the bed and close its doors. All she had wanted was for her eyes to be shut, for the world to disappear.
Now everything had changed. Although it was deep night, she lay rigid with wakefulness, listening for telltale signs of guards outside the door, trying to determine their habits. She felt as if her thoughts would burst through her skull, yet she couldn’t focus them. One idea spawned countless new ones, and from each of those, hundreds more sprang forth. Whom could she trust? Her mother, of course, but Hild wanted to protect her from the anger of both the king and Bragi. She would have to hide her intentions from her mother. Ari Frothi she was sure of, but how could she makeany plans with him when he wasn’t here? Maybe she could send a message through Unwen—but she didn’t know what message to send.
How could she get away? Even if she was able to get through the gates, where could she go? No farmer would hide her and risk the king’s wrath. The idea of entering the Wolfholt made her shudder—wolves weren’t all that roamed there. Could she take one of the fisherfolk’s boats and cross the lake? Doing so would mean hiking over a mountain range, the dwelling place of giants, before she could reach the Heathobards—who would have no incentive to take her in, and plenty of reasons not to.
It was early morning before her frenzied mind finally allowed her to sleep.
She was still drowsing behind the bed’s doors when raised voices wove themselves into the pattern of her dreams. What they were saying she couldn’t tell, only the tone, and that her mother’s voice was one of them.
Heavy footsteps pounded across the floor. Hild startled fully awake.
“Get her up. Now.” It was Bragi.
Her heart thumped wildly. Did the chief skald know about Ari Frothi’s visit? Did he suspect her plan to escape?
The footsteps retreated and she heard the door open and shut as Bragi left the house. Hild sank heavily back into the mattress, letting out her breath and, with it, all herhopes. Last night had been her chance to get away and she hadn’t taken it. It was too late now.
She waited, trying to compose herself. Whatever was to become of her, she was about to find out.
The bed’s doors opened. Her mother looked in at her, her face pale, shadows etched under her eyes. Without speaking, Hild rose and allowed her mother to help her dress. She didn’t ask why she needed to wear her best gown, the red one she’d worn to serve in the hall. Unwen drifted into and out of her view, trying to assist, but her mother claimed Hild for herself, running the comb through her hair, arranging the knot at her neck, running her fingers through the long black tail that hung down Hild’s back. And all with no words.
Asking would do no good; if her mother was going to tell her anything, she would have done so already. But when her mother insisted on helping with Hild’s shoes, Hild’s apprehension grew close to a breaking point. Desperately, she tried to still her hands and her mind, to accept whatever the gods decreed.
She looked up at Unwen, who stood beside the bed, where Hild sat while her mother knelt at
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