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“Eivor, for the last time, no .”
Randvi’s eyes were alight with frustration, the green of her irises mirroring that of a dancing flame. They had been at it since midday, having taken reprieves in their dispute when various tasks needed to be carried out. But the moment they came back together, Eivor would begin making her case once more.
“It is not up for negotiation,” Randvi sighed, leaning back against the table, the sudden added weight making the pieces sitting on the map quiver. “It is too dangerous for you to infiltrate this military camp by yourself.”
“But I’ve done it before—”
“And I’ve hated it every time,” she snapped.
Eivor’s lips pressed into a frown. She could sense this was a losing battle. There would be no winning when Randvi’s face was set like stone.
“I don’t have enough intel to even feel confident sending a you and band of raiders to raid the camp. What if there are more than we expect? What if it’s bigger than we expected? One mistake and we could lose you all.” Her gaze flicked to her feet, hands curling tightly around the table’s edge. She took a shuddering breath before meeting Eivor’s eyes once more. “One mistake and I could lose you .”
She lurched forward, hands coming to catch Randvi’s hips. “Randvi…” Eivor murmured.
Randvi turned her face away. Her brows were furrowing as if her mind was somewhere else. “You are Jarlskona. You are more than a mighty drengr off to conquer boon after boon. You are needed here, not only by your townspeople but by me. I don’t understand why you’re so keen on putting yourself in such danger that risks you getting killed.”
Guilt was gnawing at Eivor’s edges. There was the old guilt that always lingered, but this was new. Seeing the pain plaguing her wife’s lovely features was enough to make her want to fall to her knees and beg. Beg for what? She wasn’t certain. Forgiveness? Understanding? It was hard to pinpoint.
With a sigh, Eivor rested her head against Randvi’s shoulder, feeling the soft fur of the fox pelt draped around her neck. “When I close my eyes, I can still see the corpses littering the ground in Sussex.”
Randvi stiffened at the admission. Her arms released the table, choosing instead to wind around her torso.
“I can see the faces of my friends, their eyes looking to the Gods as they search for their final resting place in the halls of Valhalla.” Her voice was thick with emotion. She had not gone into the expecting to confess what had been haunting her. “I do this so I will have to call on friends to die for me once more. I cannot bear to let them fall for me. It is my battle, let me be the one to meet Odin.”
Hands pulled her head up, forcing her to look at Randvi. The stoicism she preferred to wear was completely gone as her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Heed my words, Eivor Varinsdottir, you will not be walking within Valhalla anytime soon. You are Wolf-Kissed, and the wolves run in packs, they fight in packs. We are that pack. It is an honor to fight by your side, to die by your side. The past cannot be changed, but if you use it to fuel your death-wish, you dishonor their memory.”
Eivor swallowed hard. Randvi was right.
Randvi was always right.
“I will not go to the military camp,” she conceded softly. There were no other words she could form.
Calloused thumbs brushed over her cheeks. “I will send people to scout the area if you still wish to raid the camp.”
Eivor couldn’t help but melt into her touch. She was wet mud in Randvi’s hands, malleable to her desires. “Thank you,” she whispered, but her mind was quickly clouding with the sensation of Randvi. It was nice to feel understood, to feel seen, to feel wanted and loved. Eivor would walk to the ends of the earth and back if Randvi so wished it. But for right now, Randvi only wished for her to be here.