Chapter 32

Nine hundred silvers.

Freja stared at Bard, suddenly unaware of Sigrid's noisy crying and Bain tugging at her hand. Nine hundred silvers… Jurgen had owed her father a debt so large it was near impossible to pay off. It was a king's ransom. Nine hundred silvers could have saved them, she thought numbly; it would have been the solution to every problem, but instead of paying...

'He blamed your father for Karinne's death,' Bard whispered, 'knowing that I wouldn't take it well. Hoping that I would kill your father for revenge…'

'And you did. And suddenly, his debt was gone,' Freja finished for him. She suddenly felt icy cold, and it was nothing to do with the growing snowstorm around them.

'Not anymore,' Bard all but growled, holding her gaze. 'I swear on the fucking dragon in the fucking Mountain, he's not getting away with this.'

She bit her lower lip and nodded. 'Let's go home. It's getting dark.'

Bard shut the book with a snap and they went on their way, both of them buried in their own thoughts. Freja knew that Jurgen's name in the ledger was a momentous discovery, but somehow it had raised more questions than answers.


It seemed that Sigrid had exhausted herself with her incessant screaming, and the minute Freja laid her down in the crib, she was asleep. Bain was quiet too, sensing that it wasn't the time for questions. Once Bard could convince him to take off the shiny new boots, he was in bed as well.

Freja stood at the kitchen bench, staring down at the little green book sitting before her. Bard watched her with worry; it seemed the adrenaline that had carried her through the confrontation had finally worn off, and with it her bravado. Her hands were trembling, and there was a glistening sheen over her eyes.

She looked up and met his gaze hesitantly as he came in, trepidation written in her face. Wordlessly, he drew her into his arms and held her tightly. She was tense and trembling, but he couldn't help relishing in the feel of her close against his chest.

'You were amazing,' he murmured. 'Now you know you have nothing to fear from them anymore.'

'It didn't feel amazing,' she said, pulling back but keeping hold of his hand. 'It felt terrifying.'

'Still.'

Freja shook her head. 'Bard, what did we actually achieve?' she asked quietly.

He frowned. 'What do you mean? We got the book. We know that Jurgen's role in all of this is much bigger than we suspected, and we know it for sure. That's more than enough to justify the trouble we went to.'

She nodded slowly, looking down. 'It's just… this is becoming bigger than I thought it would. I don't know what to do.'

His frown deepened. 'Would you rather we forgot about it, pretended we never knew?'

'No, you're right,' she sighed. She seemed tired. 'I want to know the truth, all of it.'

'Then what's the matter?'

She looked back up and met his eyes. 'I'm just afraid.'

She wasn't frightened of what they'd just discovered, Bard realised as he watched her anxious face. She was afraid of what he was going to do about it. He felt a stab of self hatred as he realised that she was probably right to be afraid. She knew him better than anyone else. She knew what he did with his anger, and so did he – but knowing didn't mean that there was anything he could do to stop it. Did it?

'Come on,' he said quietly. 'Let's go to bed.'

It had been the right thing to say. She breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, stepping forward to take his hand and let him lead her into their room. When the door was pulled closed behind them, Bard pushed her back against it, buried his hands in her hair and kissed her as gently as he knew how.

'What was that?' she whispered breathlessly when he pulled away.

'Aren't I allowed to kiss my wife?' he asked. But something in the way he said it brought a sharp worry back to her gaze, and she reached up to lightly brush the tip of her finger along a healing cut near his eye.

'You won't do anything, will you?' she said, a note of pleading in her voice. He pursed his lips.

'Please don't ask that of me.'

'I don't mean ignore what we know,' she said. 'But last time you killed a man, he was the wrong one.'

Bard stared into her hazel eyes, feeling her words twist painfully into his chest. The anger was there; it had been simmering in the pit of his stomach since he'd read Jurgen's name in the ledger. But could he ignore it, push it down and lock it away? Could he do it for Freja?

Instead of answering, he leaned forwards and kissed her again, his heartbeat quickening as her lips opened, warm beneath his. He pulled away again before he reached the point where he knew he wouldn't be able to stop.

'You know I'd do anything for you, don't you?' he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers. 'You're my family, and I will do whatever it takes to protect my family. Anything.'

The words seemed to anguish her more than comfort her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. 'Just not tonight,' she said. 'Please, not tonight. Promise me you won't do anything tonight. We can talk about it in the morning.'

'I promise,' he said, and kissed her again. He wondered if she could taste the lie on his lips.


The second Freja's breathing slowed enough to show that she was really asleep, Bard silently folded back the blanket and got out of bed. As quietly as he could, he shut the bedroom door before going to pull on his boots and his coat. Then he felt above the curtains over the kitchen window until he felt the hard leather of a sheath. He pulled down his long dagger and thrust it in his belt before leaving the house.

First, he went to find Hans. He hammered on the door of his house, hoping it wasn't too late in the night. What was he going to do if Hans was sleeping? Go home and wait for morning, like he'd promise Freja he would? He didn't think he would be able to do that, but his agitated nervousness was abated when he heard footsteps inside. The door swung open quickly, and Bard was greeted by Olenka, clad only in her nightdress and a shawl.

'Bard,' she said. 'Is all well?'

'Mistress,' he said, trying not to bounce on the balls of his feet. 'Is Hans here?'

He could see in her face that she knew, that Hans had told her everything, but to his relief she simply nodded, understanding in her eyes.

'He's right here. Hans!'

Hans appeared beside her, frowning. 'Bard?'

'Get a coat,' Bard said quietly, pushing his own coat so that Hans could see the sheathed knife in his belt. 'We're going.'

Olenka's eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply. 'I hope you know what you're doing, Bard Girionsson,' she said sharply, and turned to her husband. 'Don't do something you'll regret.'

'Unlikely,' Hans said grimly, and joined Bard in the cold.

Next, they went to Stefan's house, Bard explaining the new information on the way. He told Hans about the ledger, and the money owed by Jurgen to Freja's father, and how Jurgen had orchestrated his death. Hans was shaking his head with outrage when they arrived. Kristoff answered the door, and he narrowed his eyes when he saw Bard.

'I lost my job today,' he said sadly, in place of a greeting. Bard barely registered his words.

'We need your father,' he said urgently. 'Where is he?'

'Here,' Stefan said, coming to the door and standing beside Kristoff. 'What is it, lads?'

'It's Jurgen,' Hans said. 'He's done something that no one can defend, and this time he's not getting away with it.'

Stefan tugged at his beard in agitation, then seemed to come to a decision.

'Kristoff, get my coat. And – get yours too, there's a good lad. If there are blows to be had, we'll need you. Let's go.'

'Where are you going?' came Trina's shrill call from within, but the men barely heard it as they strode along the gangway.

By the time they arrived at what Stefan told them was Jurgen's house, snowflakes had begun to spin down from the heavens. Hans had taken a torch from a bracket on a wall to light their way, and it caught the glitters in the snowflakes.

The four of them stood outside the house, staring at the door. It was an unimpressive building, two stories as most of the Laketown houses were, but dilapidated in places and neglected-looking.

'You're sure about this?" Stefan asked. Hans looked sidelong at Bard, who sighed, his breath making a thick white cloud before him.

'As sure as I'll ever be,' he said, and he climbed up the stairs and hammered on the door. For a full minute there was absolute silence, and Bard was about to knock again when Hans hissed from below.

'Bard! Quickly, round the back!'

Bard caught his meaning immediately, and he turned and leapt down the stairs, sprinting behind Hans around the house. They came to a slim walkway between the backs of Jurgen's house and another, bordered on both sides by the inky black lake water.

Jurgen was hastily climbing out of a small window in the back of the house. He dropped to the ground, but as he regained his balance and turned to run, he came face to face with a grim looking Bard and Hans.

'By the very scales of the dragon himself!' he exclaimed with false joviality, clearly trying to save face. 'My friends! What brings you to this quiet corner of Esgaroth?'

'You slimy bastard,' Hans snarled. 'It's over.'

Jurgen's eyes widened fractionally, and he spun on the spot, but his escape was abruptly halted by Stefan and Kristoff. He turned back, his nervous laugh making puffs of white in the frozen air.

'I'm not at all sure what you mean, Hans,' he said. 'But there's a storm coming. How about we all head inside for a stiff drink by the fire, yes?'

'I don't think so,' Bard said, taking a small step forward and pushing back his coat so that the sheathed dagger was visible. 'I think it's time you told us the truth about what you've done.'


I promise that this time, we really are close to some answers. I hope you are enjoying the story and as excited about the next chapter as I am! I'll be travelling a bit in the upcoming week and then heading to the city, so updates may be a little choppy. But they will certainly be there!

Stay safe – Sige