Painted Blade || sihtric

35.

THE next day, Bemia was carrying a basket full of herbs as she walked with Thyra, the pair talking about Uhtred's pardon by the King and other things to get through the day faster.

Bemia was currently pressing a hand to her breast underneath her cloak when Thyra tilted her head, noticing the look of discomfort on her sister's face. During the night, the youngest sister had woken up twice to throw up and a third time because her breasts were aching. Sihtric had turned into a worried mess over her but after a small argument, he stopped pestering her. It also seemed that she was easily annoyed and snappy.

"Are you okay, Bemmi?"

"What?" Bemia faced her with a questionable look, dropping her hand. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Thyra softly smiled, not giving any warning as she pressed a hand to Bemia's breast.

"Thyra!" Bemia quietly shrieked, pushing her sister's hand away. "What are you doing?" Her eyes darted around to the many faces that thankfully weren't looking at the pair.

"I believe you have been blessed, sister," Thyra hummed with a bright smile. "Tonight after the ceremony, you must come to my home. I need to check something."

Bemia faced back to her, raising a brow. "I'll make sure—" A shoulder barged into Bemia's, shocking her enough that she staggered a step back, dropping the basket. "What the hell?" she mumbled, looking up at the man sneering before her. "Thyra, keep walking," she warned her sister.

But when Thyra tried to hurry past, the man shoved her back. "Dane," he spat out. "Say it."

Oh, that was his biggest mistake ever.

"Who the fuck are you talking to like that?" Bemia snapped, staring him down with her blood boiling. "Don't you ever put your fucking hands on my sister."

"Bemia, it's okay," Thyra quietly said, grabbing her sister's arm as she stared up at her with pleading eyes.

"Listen to the Dane," the man taunted. "Dane whore."

All it took was those two words for Bemia to completely lose her shit. She grabbed his collar, forcefully shoving him back. "I'm going to gut you and skin you alive," she seethed, hearing Thyra yell her name behind her as the man widened his eyes in shock. "Do you know who you are talking to?"

"Bemia, you can't get yourself hurt!" Thyra screamed, the fear in her voice making Bemia actually halt. And then her sister was squeezing her arm, trying to pull her back. "I just want to go home, Bemmi. Please, can we go home?"

All Bemia wanted to do was plummet her fists in the man's face over and over again. But she could hear the gathering crowd and her sister's shaky breathing. If her sister wasn't around, then perhaps she would have done what she wished.

"Touch my sister again and I promise I'll drag you naked behind a horse," Bemia promised the man and then shoved him back as she let go. "Stay the hell away from her!"

Thyra grabbed her hand, pulling her fuming sister back a few steps. "Let's go, Bemia."

Bemia nodded, looking at her sister "Walk ahead, okay? I'm right behind you."

Thyra hesitated but nodded, quickly walking toward her house. Bemia kept her promise as she snatched up her basket, following after her sister but she unsheathed her axe for extra protection. And she was glad when she saw Thyra look back at her before pushing through the crowd and entering her house.

The second Bemia made it to the front door, she threw her basket down next to it and walked inside to see everyone at the table except Thyra who was at the bench, her back to them.