Chapter 11: Chapter 11

KENDRA

We spent the majority of the day on foot, and for most of that time, my thoughts vacillated. Fjorn was a Viking—the enemy. From a young age, I had been raised to view him and his people with nothing but fear and contempt.

But so far, he’d been nothing but gentle and kind. He had given me choices, allowed me to be me. When, in the heat of my anger, I delivered a swift knee to his groin, I instantly regretted it, feeling sure he would deliver a quick death.

Instead, we ended up kissing—our display out in the open for all to see.

I had to admit that my first intention was not to please Fjorn but to piss off Ingrid. But that intention quickly faded when he held me in his arms. How could I feel such conflicting emotions toward him?

As darkness began to creep in, the men halted to set up camp. Fjorn chose a secluded spot just on the outskirts of the campsite.

“Fjorn?” I called out to him.

“Yes, Kendra?” he responded, flashing me a warm smile.

“Why do you always pitch your tent away from the others? Even on the first day, we were isolated. Why is that?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, that’s simple. I enjoy solitude, and I don’t want the other men too close to you,” he explained, driving a tent stake into the ground and tugging on the rope to ensure its stability.

I perched myself on a fallen tree, observing him as he assembled the tent. He spread out the furs and arranged a few items inside before extending an open hand toward me. “See if it’s to your liking,” he suggested.

“Why should it be to my liking? It’s your tent,” I retorted, stepping inside.

“Because it’s your home, too, whenever we’re away from our thorpe,” he explained.

“Thorpe?” I questioned, unfamiliar with the term.

“My house. It’s just another day’s walk. We’ll reach there by tomorrow night,” he clarified, gently brushing my hair off my shoulder.

“And what if I don’t want to go?” I challenged, turning to face him. Without another word, he turned away and left, his eyes reflecting a pang of hurt.

I lingered in the tent for a while, a wave of guilt washing over me as I struggled to make sense of my emotions. The sound of laughter, though, drew me outside. Fjorn had started a fire, and Sten and Ulf were perched on the fallen tree, teasing him.

“Look, it’s the beautiful frue.” Sten chuckled.

“Ah, yes, Frue Kendra til Fjorn,” Ulf added, winking at me.

I shot Fjorn a questioning look, and he cleared his throat. “It means ‘wife Kendra of Fjorn,’” he explained.

My cheeks flushed, and Sten and Ulf burst into laughter. I picked up a few pebbles and hurled them at the pair. They scrambled backward onto the ground and pretended to take shelter behind the fallen tree.

“Hey, Fjorn,” Sten called out. “You should spread her legs. Maybe that would make her nicer.”

Anger surged within me. My eyes caught sight of Fjorn’s axe resting on the ground nearby, and I swiftly grabbed it, making my way toward Sten. Ulf’s eyes widened in alarm. Just as I was about to swing, Fjorn scooped me up, disarming me. He set me down gently, planting a kiss on my forehead before turning to confront Sten and landing a punch on his face.

Ulf burst into laughter again, and Fjorn extended a hand to help Sten up. They exchanged a look, and I expected Sten to retaliate, but instead, he turned to me. “My apologies, Frue,” he said.

I didn’t respond verbally, just nodded, and the men resumed their banter. Fjorn disappeared into the forest for a while and returned with two rabbits and some firewood. I watched him clean the meat and engage in friendly chatter with his friends. It all seemed so normal to them, but I felt like an outsider.

As I sat there, watching the meat roast, my stomach growled. Ulf turned to me. “It’ll be ready soon,” he assured me with a friendly smile.

“Thank you,” I responded. “So, how long have you all known each other?” I asked, idly poking at the dirt with a stick.

“I’ve known Fjorn and Ulf since we were kids. We grew up in the same village. My father and Ulf’s father worked for Fjorn’s fa—”

Fjorn interrupted him, “Dinner’s ready.” He sliced off a generous portion of the rabbit for me, wrapping it in a white cloth before handing it to me. He planted a kiss on my head and sat next to me on a stump, eating in silence.

My stomach growled again, and I unwrapped the cloth, taking small bites. As Fjorn and the others continued talking, I found myself joining in their laughter and banter. Maybe I could fit in after all.

But why did I feel like he was hiding something from me?