All's Fair in Revenge

Chapter 7: A Friend

The storm raged on, but Srisset sought refuge under the Great Hall's thatched roof. Lightning shook the building, raindrops hissed in the fires, and the wind rattled the walls.

Inside, the feast continued. Smells of past meals and smoked wood mixed with the night's menu of spit-fire boar, pungent soft cheeses, and brown crusted breads with warm, buttery centers. The crowded table left little room for plates and cutlery, so mourners picked at the dishes with their fingers. Ale sloshed, and crumbs fell to the floor.

From above, flickering torchlight, laughter, and body heat filled the room chasing the shadows into the rain. Wooden benches draped in tanned animal skins covered hard wood while hulking fire pits offered a soft glow. A shallow dais sat at the end of the hall where the councilors had their fill. With the familiarity, the warmth, and the food, the great hall often felt more like home than home did. There our people indulged in the rich, spicy barrel wine and in each other's company. I, however, sat with a chunk of ice pressed against my cheek until the rain was little more than mist and the night's festivities truly began.

Young and old alike floated around the various bonfires speckling the damp shoreline, singing and laughing to the beat of drums. Fire dancers twirled sticks alight with flame and swung iron chains bursting with embers that seemed to drip fire. I moved to the sidelines, watching the glow illuminate the dancers' bear arms and stomachs, reflect off their leathers, and shadow their rimmed eyes. Their movements paired with the flickering light, gave them the appearance of fire spirits like those said to roam Helheim. In particular, the middle dancer, with hair like the rich waters of Ámsvartnir, caught everyone's attention. Some believed she would be the next High Priestess. But I knew her as Liv.

Circles of fire rotated around her curves and edges as she beckoned a woman already ensnared by her whirling hips. Taller and more muscular than most men, she charged at Liv playfully, knocking her into the sparkling sand. Giggles, sharp shrieks, and light moans filled the air. In another time, at another rite, I might' have joined in on the fun, but not that night. Not when it was Arin's short life we celebrated.

I walked away.

Further up the shore, a small fire gathered children. Around it, an old woman with crisp white hair braided around her head like a halo and wisps of white chin hairs poking out answered questions about Elysios as if the babbling younglings hadn't heard the stories a thousand times already in their lessons. Perhaps it was the firelight, or the woman's soothing voice, but the children, dressed in their finest belted tunics, knelt and listened without interruption as the elder spoke. The uncertainty that seemed to coat the villagers' shoulders whenever someone too young died too soon made everything feel heavier.

With nowhere to go, nowhere I seemed to fit in, I longed for the days when my only responsibility was to stay out of trouble, out from underfoot, and listened to fables about people I didn't know, in circumstances I thought impossible because Kelvia was safe. As long as I stayed tucked between its mountains and shore, I was safe.

How wrong I was.

Mook on my heels, his hot panting breath beating my elbow, I left the shore and wound through the village, only to return to the Great Hall. The hood of my silver embroidered robe whipped about in the breeze. The hem swatted my feet as each step searched for comfort. I wanted soft bear fur cushioning my weight. I wanted a thick wool blanket to hide beneath. I wanted a flickering fire teased by my proximity yet out of reach. Warm cheeks, warmer feet. Familiar din. Safe enough to sleep. Loud enough to make it dreamless.

I never wanted to dream again.

Like Skadi awaiting justice, I set upon on the precipice of the celebration. Slurred voices belted from stomachs heavy with drink and I loomed in the glow of its wide doors listening to the edge of a song as it stumbled out into the night air. But looking in at the laughter and joy from the outside made me feel so very alone. Like the world could swallow me whole and no one would ever know. Self-pity draped itself over me like the blanket I'd set out for until the prickle of a presence crawled up my neck.