Revna had been having visions, even when Bryn had known her and worked closely with her. Taking her confidence for granted when they had hatched their scheme to contact Maude, she never thought about the odd pauses her lover would take occasionally.
"Gods above," Bryn whispered as her hands clutched the letter, the last words from Revna that she would ever receive.
Before she could decide what to do with the letter, Liv returned with more food and ale in her arms. She quickly took in Bryn's expression and dropped everything onto the small table in the corner, rushing to her side. Her eyes dropped to the letter still clutched in Bryn's hands before she met her eye, the gray softer than Bryn felt she deserved.
"Are you okay?" Liv asked quietly.
Bryn, unable to answer right away, just stood there as numbness spread from her fingers to the rest of her body. "It's from Revna. I found it when we were in the palace."
Her voice sounded far away, even to her.
During those nights that Liv had told her about her life, Bryn had shared what glimmer of happiness she'd had while serving as Lieutenant General. She spoke of her shieldmaidens and her duties, mentioning Revna more than enough times that Liv became aware that she was more than just a friend. But she had never shared the gory details of how she had mutilated or how she had sworn in blood to kill Ulf. And yet, Liv seemed to know anyway.
"I don't know if I can read this right now," Bryn whispered, unable to find her voice. "I'm not ready to say goodbye."
Understanding flooded Liv's gaze before it shuttered for a moment, making her think she had said the wrong thing. What was happening between Bryn and Liv was unknown— it was new and scary— and Bryn wasn't sure she was ready for it. But she also didn't want to ruin it so soon, the way she ruined everything close to her.
"Then it isn't time to say goodbye yet," Liv said softly, handing the other bottle of ale to Bryn and gently grasping her elbow to pull her back to the cushions they had been lounging on.
Liv uncorked her bottle and motioned for Bryn to do the same. Once Bryn obeyed, Liv lifted the bottle into the air.
"To Revna."
Bryn swallowed hard, her eyes filling with the heartache she had refused to allow to surface. She copied Liv's motion, sliding the letter back into her pocket.
"Tominnraven," Bryn choked out before a laugh escaped her. "Who is surely dining with Odin as we speak and drinking mead much better than this shit."
Liv smiled as she touched the bottom of her bottle to Bryn's before drinking. Though the ale that washed over Bryn's tongue was spiced and tasted slightly of bitter hops, she could swear she tasted juniper instead. She wasn't ready to say goodbye to her just yet, but now Bryn knew that when she was, she could turn to Liv, who had become more than just her friend. The idea made her warm, her cheeks flushing slightly with the thought.
Rather than shun it, Bryn embraced it. She and Liv spoke long into the night, only deciding to sleep when the sun had started to lighten the skies. Liv claimed one of the cots, and Bryn settled down in the cot next to the Elven's, their bodies closer than decent but never touching as they drifted into a spinning unconsciousness.
And wasn't it just the best sleep Bryn had had in weeks.
30
Herrick stood outside the cabin they had slept in as he roughly scrubbed his face in a basin of water that had been filled from the stream, the cold temperature refreshing. The early morning sun beat down on the mountainside, blinding him as he stepped out further into the forest of Hilgafell to escape the close quarters of their dwelling.
The structure was larger than it appeared on the outside: it had a decent shared living space lined with comfortable cushions and piles of furs for when the chill of the night crept in. Behind a thick tapestry lay a large shared sleeping quarter that could section off into smaller, more private bubbles with just the pull of a curtain. Herrick and Maude had quickly chosen a spot near the entrance, pulling a large curtain across the line hanging above them until they were cocooned.
Though they still hadn't spoken about what happened in Nida, their silent agreement to remain close to each other made him think that things between them weren't so irreparably damaged.
Outside, though the other worshippers had drank long into the night, the grounds were silent. Fires lay smoldering in the morning dew with more than a few couples and groups lying around them, flashes of exposed skin giving away just how carried away they had gotten the night before. Even in the height of the summer months, the air was cooler in the forest.
As Herrick walked the worn path through Hilgafell, his bare feet snapping twigs and wet leaves squishing beneath his weight, his mind returned to the ominous parting the Grand Soothsayer had given them last night. Her words had lingeredthrough the night, bouncing within the confines of his waking mind and even following him into his dreams.
Ravens, as large as the rare sandsighoggthat plague the desert surrounding Logi, had followed him as he trekked through an unknown forest. His path had been laid out by swords that had been stuck into the dirt, their handles rusted and broken.
He remembered looking up to the sky to find it blood red and realizing he was dreaming the way most do when dreams start to differ from reality. When he had looked back toward the path lined by swords, a dense shadow figure stood at the end of it. He hadn't been able to look past the humanoid shape; he was only left with a feeling of acidic betrayal and resolve that cut through him. He tried to turn around and go back the way he came, but the last person Herrick wanted to see stood a few paces away. Baldr— the General of Flame and Herrick's torturer.
The man's appearance shifted rapidly between the dark torturer he had been to Herrick and a softer image of him that could only have been the informant side of Baldr. Herrick didn't recognize this softer side of the man who had brought so much suffering to him in such a short time.
He had grappled with which direction he should go; sweat broke out on his neck, and his hands started to tremble as each of the figures took a step closer to him. With every thundering beat of his heart, Herrick's throat tightened. Eventually, he tried to jump the barrier of swords that lined his path but found a wall of fire in his way. Dream Baldr reached him first, his flaming hands already extended toward Herrick's bare chest before he flickered again and instead was reaching toward him with open hand, like it was ready to pull him free from something. Herrick had clenched his eyes shut as his panic finally overwhelmed him, his breath coming in quick, sawing pants that made him feel like he was breathing underwater.
When he opened his eyes again, it was to wake from his nightmare. The dream had shaken him so thoroughly that he had risen from his sleep earlier than everyone else.
Maude had been curled up into him as she slept on her side, her face slack as soft snores rumbled out of her. Her hands had been wrapped around his chest before hedisentangled himself like she had turned to him in her sleep, sensing his panic and trying to soothe it with her presence.
Despite all that had gone wrong between them, her unconscious mind still reached for him when he was in distress. It had made his throat tighten uncomfortably until he had to escape the confines of the shared sleeping space.
