Chapter 36: Chapter 36

KENDRA

I met with Ulf and Sten, and we walked back to the house in silence. After they left, I let out a loud sigh. Why would Fjorn reveal our secret after insisting on its importance? And what would happen to us both if he was found guilty? I quickly changed into pants and a shirt, pulling my hair up into a bun.

Sten and Ulf snuck inside through the back just as I was finishing.

“Do you have the knife?” Ulf asked me.

I nodded and was about to illustrate my use of it once more for confirmation when we heard muffled footsteps on the porch. Ulf hurried me out the back door, closing it firmly. Seconds later, I heard the sounds of yelling and fighting. Fjorn was right; they attacked, thinking I was alone.

I clutched the knife to my chest, sneaking around the back of the house. I peeked around the corner and ran to the next house. I repeated this a few more times until only one house stood between me and Astrid and Hilda’s.

As I stepped out, a hand gripped my hair, yanking me backward. It was Orm.

His breath was hot on my face as he spit his words. “Regardless of the outcome,” he said, “I will not let you taint my bloodline with that child.”

He reached for something, and I knew it was now or never. With my heart racing, I lifted my arm and drove my elbow into his stomach. His grip faltered, and I turned, thrusting the knife deep into the soft flesh between his neck and shoulders, remembering Ulf’s instructions.

Leaving his body lying in the shadow of the house, I quickly ran the rest of the way. My hands were shaking as I knocked on Astrid and Hilda’s back door.

Astrid swung the door open, her eyes fixed on my blood-soaked hands as she guided me inside. Hilda quickly brought a bucket, and the two of them washed the blood away, helping me change my shirt. I didn’t say anything. How could I? I was taught how to use the knife and told I might have to use it, but I had hoped I wouldn’t have to.

The image of the knife in Orm’s neck and the blood wouldn’t stop replaying in my mind. I wanted Fjorn. Where was he? I sat there, shaking, staring at the cold floor, almost paralyzed. Astrid asked me a question, but it was as if I was deaf. I heard nothing, and when I went to speak, I was mute.

The front door swung open, and in staggered Sten. He seemed utterly drained. His garments were drenched in blood, and he struggled to catch his breath. He stumbled over to me and wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tightly.

I didn’t know what was more shocking: the fact that I had just killed a man or that Sten was hugging me. I giggled, the sound starting off light and playful but gradually transforming into an uncontrollable, hysterical sob.

Sten held me tighter. “It’s okay,” he said, patting my back. “Let’s go to Fjorn.”

He helped me to my feet, and we walked to the great hall. Three of the clans’ leaders were on their knees, the swords of our men at their throats. Fjorn sat on his throne, his shoulders back, chest high. There was a look on his face that sent chills down my spine. He looked like a king—a king who had been wronged and was ready to make men pay for it.

His eyes met mine, softening for a moment before his fiery gaze returned to the men on their knees. I rushed to Fjorn’s side, throwing my arms around him. He gave me a quick squeeze before turning me and placing me on his lap.

“Tell Frue Kendra what you planned to do. After, she—and only she—will decide your fate,” Fjorn said.

The men looked at me and then at each other before the man in the middle spoke. “Orm came to ask for our help in your death, Frue Kendra. Thorsten was a good leader, and Ingrid would have made a grand frue. He convinced us that Fjorn was wrong to talk Thorsten into leaving his home and taking half the clan with him.”

The man lifted his eyes to me. “Orm said Fjorn deserved to be punished for both of their deaths, and if it looked like the clans were leaning toward his innocence, we were to take your life anyway—to punish him.”

I shook my head in disgust. “And after hearing everything, you were still convinced of his guilt?” I asked.

One of the men bowed his head, but the other two held theirs high. “As allies, we stand by Orm,” the spokesman in the middle said.

“Orm’s dead,” I announced, my voice strong and clear despite my still shattered nerves. With a careful sweep of my eyes, I assessed each man in the room, studying their faces and mannerisms. The silence was deafening.

“And the rest of you,” I said, gesturing to the other clansmen, including the ones who had deliberated Fjorn’s fate. “Now that you’ve heard Fjorn’s side, what do you think? Should he be punished in the way they”—I pointed to the three kneeling before us—“see fit?”

As the men shook their heads, the sound of their collective no’s echoed in my ears.

Turning to Fjorn, I whispered in his ear, “Pick me up and take me away from these men. When we are gone, kill those loyal to Orm.” I didn’t lift my head from his chest as he carried me outside, but I could hear the screams of the men inside. All I wanted was for Fjorn to hold me until everything went away.

Fjorn walked past Astrid and Hilda’s house, even past our own. I wasn’t sure where we were going, but I didn’t care as long as he held me close. After a few minutes, he set me down. Taking in my surroundings, I saw his tent positioned near a small stream. I could still see the village walls, but I had never been here before.

“I thought after everything was over, we could use some time just for us,” Fjorn said, kissing my forehead and holding open the tent flap for me. I smiled at him and walked inside. I was so ready for all the fear and uncertainty to be gone. Turning, I grabbed his hand and pulled him inside with me. I was ready to spend the rest of my life happily in his arms, raising our child.

***

The heart of winter had settled in, blanketing everything in thick, pristine snow. I was in labor, and as the contractions grew stronger, I held onto Hilda’s hand tightly, my grip tightening with each passing moment.

Fjorn’s anxious steps echoed from the porch outside. Astrid, ever the calm presence, urged me to push, and suddenly—I was holding our crying newborn.

He was absolutely perfect, every feature a tiny miracle.

Fjorn couldn’t contain his joy as he came over to greet his son. He tenderly stroked my cheek, his eyes glistening.

Just then, a knock at the door broke our little bubble. It was Sten and Ulf; Fjorn welcomed them warmly. Ulf clung to Sten, playfully smacking him while gushing over how beautiful I looked and how adorable the baby was. Sten, usually so reserved, couldn’t help but beam at us.

Astrid’s voice cut through the chatter. “What name did you pick?”

I exchanged a look with Fjorn, nodding for him to share the news.

“We chose the only name that felt right—Ulf!” he announced, his voice filled with pride. Ulf’s reaction was priceless; he looked as if he might pass out from shock. The room filled with laughter and joyful conversation until Fjorn gently ushered everyone out, leaving us in peace.

There I was, cradling our son, humming softly to him as Fjorn perched beside us on the bed. “Can I get you anything?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Hold us?” I requested, my heart swelling with love.

“If I ever said no to that—tie me up and throw me in the river,” he joked, pulling us both into his embrace.

In that moment, everything felt profoundly perfect. I was overwhelmed with a sense of complete happiness, knowing our future would be brimming with moments as beautiful as this one.

The End