Painted Blade || sihtric

8.

"YOU have all your weapons?" Finan questioned Bemia for the third time as she walked around the camp set up near Lunden.

"Yes," she said, patting the sword sheathed to her hip.

"And you know where to run if there is an attack?" Sihtric asked, also following behind her.

"To the forest," she sighed and then whirled around, forcing them to halt with wide eyes. "Now, get your arses to Lunden before Uhtred drags the both of you."

Behind her, a deep chuckle sounded. "I'm sure you will drag them for me," Uhtred teased.

Bemia faced him with a smile. "That I will if they don't hurry up," she hummed, glancing at the men already marching toward Lunden.

Uhtred smiled and then embraced his sister in a tight hug before she could brace herself. "We'll be back before sundown," he promised her.

But Bemia's heart was heavy as she hugged him back, knowing that there was a possibility of them not returning but instead joining their heaven or Valhalla. And that was why she always went to battle with them.

"I'll be expecting you three here for dinner," she quietly said, pulling away from him. "Now hurry up and get this over with. I'll be with Thyra and Aethelflaed."

Uhtred hated goodbyes so he nodded, looking at Finan and then Sihtric before cocking his head toward the army. She watched, her heavy heart threatening to drop as her brother walked away, barking orders at his men.

"I've always got his back, Bemmi," Finan promised, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he passed, and she faintly smiled.

A hand lightly rested against her back, and she looked up to see Sihtric already looking down at her. "I'm wearing your luck," he informed her, patting the purple crystal that hung under his armor.

Bemia didn't know why she did it, but she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her head against his chest as she hugged him. "You better come back to me, Sihtric Kjartansson."

Sihtric smiled, hugging her back while pressing a kiss to her head. "Say that again."

She pulled away from him with a smile on her face. "Say what?" she asked.

"Say my name again, Bemia," he stated as she fully pulled away from him.

"Sihtric Kjartansson," she repeated his name, each syllable on her tongue like honey.

A bright smile graced his sensuous lips as he nodded, walking backward from her. "I better hear my name from your lips when I return, Bemia Ragnarssdottir!"

A laugh bubbled out of her as she waved him off, feeling lighter within her soul.

A few hours later, Bemia was in her tent, slipping a thick cloak around her shoulders when she heard a distant shout. Her body went on alert, and she froze for a second until she heard another shout, followed by the sounds of metal hitting metal.

"What the hell?" Bemia breathed, grabbing one of her axes as she ran out of the tent.

Sun blinded her eyes for a second but when they refocused, horror filled her gut at the sight of Danes charging toward the camp on horses with weapons.

Around her, men and women were running around, setting the camp into chaos.

"Thyra!" Bemia shouted at the top of her lungs, her heart racing as she ran from her tent, eyes frantically darting around for the sight of orange hair. "Aethelflaed!"

"Bemia!" a scream sounded, and her heart dropped when she realized it was her sister's voice.

The Danes were getting closer, the horses' hooves against the ground causing vibrations to run up Bemia's legs as she pushed past screaming men and women.