Chapter 37 The Homesick Heart

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There's a faint buzzing of voices in the burgundy world. I groan and clench my eyes tighter, dimming the burgundy to black. My body is still heavy with the need for sleep. Whoever is up and whatever they are doing, I care not so long as they continue to let me sleep. As my eyes relax, the world brightens again! I yank my deer pelt over my head. The skinside of the pelt is stiff, its warmth making my face tingle.

Chuckling sounds beside me, rumbling in his chest. My heart picks up, my stomach flutters, and that dull tingling stirs between my legs. Eric. The deer pelt pulls back from my face, letting the cold sting my tingling skin. I wince and force my eyes open.

Eric looms over me, greeting me with his blue eyes and impish grin. "Mornin' lass. Sorry to pull back to the covers, but ye were stirrin'. Ye got some sleep?"

Day thirty-two. I hum and blink my eyes a few times to wake myself more. I brush my legs together, trying to ward off the tingling desire between them. "I was waiting for you to come back from your watch. I didn't want to fall asleep until you came back, but I did." A frown drags down my mouth. My exhaustion got the best of me.

His impish grin shrinks, but it doesn't completely abandon him. "I'll always come back to ye. I cannae stay away."

My heart constricts. How I want him to know my true name. I grit my teeth. Damn it, will I ever be able to tell him!? His smile starts to fall. I force a smile for him. Anything to save the last of his. "You're a good man, Eric," I say.

His smile grows again until it's that stupid toothy grin of his. "I've been tryin'."

I giggle and shake my head at him. "We all have something to work on."

He raises his brows at me and chuckles.

"Good morning!" Torrance says as he approaches. I manage to tear my eyes from Eric to look at Torrance as he comes up to us, wearing that handsome grin of his.

"Good morning, Torrance," I say as I prop myself on my elbows and smile up at him.

"You slept well?"

My smile lessens while I shrug my shoulders. "This was one of my better nights."

"Good!" He crouches before me, his eyes going to my wrapped feet. "How are your feet feeling?"

"Oh!" I look down at my wrapped feet and wriggle them about. "It still feels like I have my toes, but the pain is…" I shrug and laugh with joy "...it's nothing but a dull ache!"

Torrance glances up at me without lifting his head, almost looking conceited. Rightfully so, though. "That lamia balm works miracles!"

I hold my hands up. "You don't have to tell me twice!"

The three of us chuckle, drawing my eyes to Eric. The air is chilly, but it is also wonderfully light. God, I'm not questioning this good fortune! So rare is the giddiness, the joy, the laughs.

As our laughter dies, Torrance speaks. "After we have some breakfast, I'll clean up your feet, wrap them, and we'll be out of here."

I glance at Torrance and nod, movement drawing my eyes past him. Locke brings back a bundle of food in his arms while Wessel fastens his bedroll to the back of his chestnut's saddle. I snort to myself. Of course the redhead has the red horse.

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After we finish our breakfast, Torrance unwraps my feet and cleans them. Everyone is pleased to see the progress of my healing, even Locke who has been on my periphery since we first met. We have not said more than a few words of greeting to each other. Hell, I cannot forget about my embarrassing ignorance of his dark skin that night at the Inn.

"Incredible," Locke says, marveling at my feet. He offers me a happy, selfless grin, flashing his stark white teeth. I smile back at him, though my twisting stomach makes me shrink. I don't really care for everyone looking at my feet, let alone being the pinnacle of everyone's awe. I manage to catch Wessel's eyes, his smile softer than the others, but the most relieved.

After the gawking show dies down, Torrance wraps my feet while the others pack up the rest of camp. Eric kicks the remnants of the fire into the snow, scattering them. No doubt to hide the fact that anyone was here.

"Alright lass," Eric says, coming to me and offering me his hand, "want to see if ye can get up and walk to Ylva?"

I smile up at him and take his hand gratefully. "Yes, I do."

He smiles and extends his other hand to me. "Jus' in case," he says, no need to explain further. If I need his other hand, it is there for me to grab. I brace my hand against the stone earth and bring my feet under me. With Eric's helping hand, I manage to push myself to my feet! I cannot help the squeal of excitement that escapes me. I teeter horribly at first, but I manage to catch myself on my heels.

"That's it!" Eric says as he helps me hobble over to Ylva. He beams as much, if not more, than me. My heart soars.

"I love this morning!" I say when we reach Ylva. I grip Eric's saddle, spying Gus' lute tethered securely to Ylva's side. I sigh with relief and hobble about on my heels to face Eric. "I'm glad you're here," I say for his ears only.

The corners of his smile soften to something so gentle. "Aye, me too." He grabs my waist and lifts me onto Ylva's shoulders effortlessly. He climbs up onto Ylva behind me and reaches around me to grab hold of the reins. As he turns Ylva about, he clicks his tongue and spurs her along after the others.

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The elation from this morning lingers. Locke, Torrance, and Wessel get caught up in their own conversation, laughing away, though the men mind their voices so that they are not too loud. They keep their swords at their hips within quick reach. Torrance has his bow and arrows strapped to his back. My stomach churns as I look from mountain to mountain. There's no black figures watching us from what I can see. It is best to keep our voices down. God only knows who could be passing along the mountain paths—if there are even any paths along those sheer cliffs and ice walls. Like yesterday, Eric paces Ylva at the back of the group, granting us some privacy.

"Ye awake?" Eric whispers.

I tilt my chin back to meet his gaze. "You thought I was asleep?"

A faint smile turns up his mouth. "Ye were quiet, so I wanted to be sure before I started blabbin' away."

I chuckle behind my closed mouth and he laughs too. As our laughter ebbs, I ask, "What did you want to talk about?"

His eyes widen with surprise. "Ye!" He laughs and shakes his head. "I huvnae forgotten about our deal back in Vilgard." He looks ahead at the men. "I've told ye a few thin's about myself yesterday. Aye, I did all the talkin'!" He glances down at me, smirking. "Now it's yer turn."

I drop my eyes to Ylva's ears, watching the wind play with the fine black hairs of her mane. My smile leaves me. The giddy feeling that lingered in the air is dampened. If he knew my true name, then...then I could be honest with him about everything. I wouldn't have to make up stories of my past or leave anything out. I could tell him everything and anything. Yet if he knew who I am...I cannot risk him passing me over to Wessel and spurring Ylva in the opposite direction back to Vilgard.

I swallow hard and try to ignore the sting in my chest. "I had a very uneventful childhood. Boring really! I've only been as far as Kalobarrow. I knew most of the halls of the castle, but I'm sure there were alot of hidden passageways all throughout!" I shrug my shoulders. How else were Ravenna's black glass knights able to infiltrate every part of the castle? It's as if they appeared out of nowhere and surrounded us entirely. Then again, maybe they did. I sigh and shake my head of the thought. "You wouldn't want to hear them. Or you'd say 'Ah, that's enough. Now, did I tell ye about the time I...swam up a waterfall?'" I laugh aloud, praying he'll laugh with me and forget our stupid deal. He doesn't laugh. His body stiffens against my side. My forced laughter dies as my face falls.

"I widnae say that to ye," he says. His left hand tightens about the weathered reins. "Why would ye think that?"

A sudden pang enters my heart. Damn you, Snow! To accuse him of some rude, dismissive attitude that he has yet to give me...that was wrong of me. "I'm sorry," I say. The corners of my eyes prickle. "I know you'd never tell me that, I just…" I sigh. "What more do you want to know about me!? I lived in the castle with my mother for nine years before I was imprisoned for fourteen. I escaped, you found me in the dark forest, and now here we are."

"The wee stories ye have, like how ye found the doll in Kalobarrow and named her Delilah!"

"Oh." My shoulders grow too heavy to keep up. My heart sinks. That is exactly what I was hoping to avoid so that I do not have to spew more lies.

Eric sighs. "I dinnae mean to force ye to talk, lass. I just want to know ye. Yer mother, Eleanor, was a scullery maid. Sounds like ye helped her with her job when ye were a child—"

"I rarely had time for games," I say. Damn it! I bite the inside of my lip. That slipped out of me! I must watch myself.

"Aye, same here. Stigr put his axe in my hand when I was three and dinnae let me put it down until I left home—"

"Are you serious!?" I ask, my eyes widening.

Eric laughs and wraps his arm about my waist. "He'd let me put it down when I would go to sleep, but I had to sleep with it next to me like it was my lover!"

I laugh, my nerves buzzing. Like it was his lover. I shake my head hard, trying to get those words out of my mind. Sara creeps into my mind, but I shake her away too. Clearly he did not hold his axe for twelve years straight, but his point is clear enough. Stigr was a warrior and he taught his son to be the same. "Is that why you always carried your runes game with you everywhere you went?"

"Any chance I got to play it with my friends, I did."

"Right." I nod, my heart aching and beating harder. God, I want to share something about my past with him. Something personal, something to help him see me and understand me better. Something to bring us closer. I swallow hard. "When I was a little girl, I loved to climb. Anything I could climb, I'd climb it. It started with chairs, then tables, then bookshelves. I cannot tell you how many times my nan—mother would pull me down off them." God forbid he ever learns I had a nanny to care for me for most of my youth. Only the most wealthy had nannies and wetnurses to care for them. "Eventually my passion for climbing turned to the apple trees in our orchard. There was one tree in particular that I loved to climb. When no one was around to scold me, I would climb to the tallest branch and sit on it and look up at the blue sky." I lift my eyes to the grey clouds high above us, sweet memories of the past soothing me. "I've never seen a prettier shade of blue than the sky. The leaves were especially beautiful during the spring months. So green...I loved how the sun's light would pass through them. Seeing the shadows of their veins, the fine fur on the green…" I chuckle to myself. "I would forget myself because I would stare at the leaves for so long. The fragrance was something else, too. The ripening apples, the salt of the Gastean Sea...oh!" I perk up. "The apples were so good! I've never tasted anything sweeter than one of the red apples straight from the branch." I cannot contain my smile as I turn my eyes to Eric.

He smiles down at me, his eyes so blue...it's as if I am sitting on my favorite tree branch staring up at the blue sky once more. The chilly wind fades away. I breathe in, his scent of leather, earth and ash filling me up like the salty sea and the scent of ripe apples. He stoops to me, pressing his mouth to mine for an almost still, gentle kiss. Because both my feet are dangling down Ylva's left side, our mouths are not perfectly aligned, but it does not inhibit his kiss in anyway. If anything, it only refines his gentle strength.

He pulls back too soon. I force my heavy eyes open, meeting his smiling gaze. "Yer beautiful," he says. My heart swells and beats harder. He has yet to see my cut hair hidden beneath my coif and thick scarf. Would he still find me beautiful? Or is he smitten more so with the lie of Greta? Her heart, her soul, her mind? Is that what he is seeing? Not the flesh and bone? Though Sara was beautiful despite her disfigured face. It was her heart, her soul, and her strength that made her truly beautiful, though I could see the fair face beneath the grim, the tears, and her scar.

"What about yer father?" Eric asks. My smile drops instantly. My heart lurches forward. "Ye huvnae spoken of him yet."

I force my eyes to the snowy horizon, barely seeing Wessel, Torrance, and Locke some ways ahead on their horses. "I never knew him, never met him," I say, not stumbling over a single word. A terrible pang enters my heart. My eyes sting and my nose burns. I squeeze my eyes shut. I just denied my father. He would never have denied knowing me, not even to his worst enemy!

"I'm sorry if that brought up painful memories," Eric says. "Nae lass should have to grow up without her father. A good father, nae less!"

I let go of a shuddery breath. I did grow up with a good father, a father who loved me and uplifted me, who kept telling me that I am just as capable as any future king to lead my people, who tried to prepare me for a cruel and unforgiving world before his life was ended by that same world…

"Ye probably saw more blue skies than I did," Eric says, breaking the tense silence. "Where I grew up, there were more cloudy days than sunny days."

I force myself to nod twice, though it's stiff. No matter how hard I try, I cannot fully drag myself from the near-paralyzing guilt and pain—"Sometimes we'd get to see patches of blue sky durin' the winter months." Eric chuckles, blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil. "My sister came up with a funny name for those patches of blue sky." My eyes pop open. His sister!? Eric speaks again, saying a word, some foreign word in his native tongue. "Suckerbowls," he translates. "Ye know, because we were suckers for thinkin' more blue sky was to come."

"You have a sister?" I find myself saying, barely hearing what he was trying to tell me. I throw my chin back to see him.

His smile falls and he looks up at the men ahead of us. He draws in a breath, something hesitant in his eyes. "Aye," he says, quiet, not sparing me a glance. "Eivor. She was my twin, born shortly after me feet first. She died years ago."

Oh God. My heart grows as heavy as a mountain. "You've talked about your brother, but your sister…" My eyes sting terribly as my sight of him blurs. I drop my gaze to my lap and rest my left hand on top of my right. His sister. His twin sister! "I'm so sorry. I didn't know," I say, my throat tightening with the growing need to weep.

"How could ye have known?" he says above me, no blame in his voice. He tightens his arm about me, pulling me flush against him in a half embrace.

"Did you have other siblings?" I ask. I don't want to think about his sister anymore. Nor his brother, but I cannot change the subject so abruptly without raising his suspicions, let alone hurting him again.

"Nae. Jus' Eivor and Luke," he says. I cannot help but shudder from the chill that goes down my spine. "What about ye? Any brothers or sisters? Aside from Wessel."

I laugh once. "My mother was older when she gave birth to me. I was her only child. Everyone else around me grew up with their brothers and sisters, but as you said, you can choose your family sometimes. Wessel was like my older brother when I was growing up." I chuckle, spying the redhead on his equally red horse. "He still is. He's protective and caring...too protective really, but that stays between us."

We both laugh as he says, "Aye, between us."

We pass some more time talking and jesting about lighter topics, both of us learning to stay away from questions about our families. At least for now. He latches onto the juicy red apples I would pluck from my favorite tree and goes on about his native foods. I wince and cringe at most of his favorite dishes. Dried fish, iced fish, raw fish, roasted fish, fish stew. Trout, squid, sea mussels, whales, even sharks that can live for four hundred years! He only laughs at my revulsion of his love for seafood, but he tells me less and less about the seafood and more and more about the bready desserts and the special ale his people brew. He even tells me about the winter squash, leeks, and other hardy greens that his mother used to grow in their garden during the spring and summer months. Though the spring and summer months were just milder winters with a few icy rainstorms mixed in. Despite the perpetual cold, his homeland sounds so fertile and...alive. As he goes on, my heart aches for him. He misses his home so much. Why he never sought to return after Sara died he does not tell me.

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I put the last piece of barely warmed bread in my mouth, chew it and swallow.

"I still can't believe we left them tied to the rose bushes," Wessel says. "Bare as the day they were born."

Locke, Torrance and Eric laugh hard. I cannot help my eyes as they go to Eric who sits beside me. He leans forward to look at Wessel, his fingers fiddling with his last bit of deer meat. "Dinnae feel bad for 'em. Those bastards deserved to have the thorns pokin' their tender bits."

"Eric!" I say, trying to scold him, though heat flushes my face.

His blue eyes shift to mine, his smile growing. "What?" he asks, trying to feign innocence. I open my mouth, wanting to retort with something...nothing comes to me. I shake my head at him, barely suppressing my laughter behind my closed mouth.

"Perhaps we should keep in mind the company we're in," Wessel says to his brothers.

"Oh Wessel, please!" I turn my head the other way to look at him. "I've told you before, I'm not the little girl you once knew. I may be ignorant to some of the more...intimate details of men's bodies, but I understand the general concept..." Dare I add this? Dare I show my brother I'm not as innocent as he believes me to be? "...And to be honest, I like it."

Wessel frowns at me, looking more disappointed with me than shocked. Torrance and Locke chuckle while Eric snickers behind me. "That's my lass," Eric says with the sound of a devilish grin and wraps his arm around me, pulling me against him. My heart flutters and my body tingles.

Wessel's frown deepens as he looks from me to Eric. He opens his mouth to speak, but Eric speaks first. "She's a grown lass. She was only makin' ye aware of it." He squeezes my arm with his gentle strength. I look back at him, spying the pride in his eyes. My chest swells with hesitant elation. Is he really proud of me for proving to Wessel I'm not as innocent as I used to be?

"You're corrupting her!" Torrance says, laughing.

Eric grins at Torrance from across the fire. "I ne'er claimed to be a good influence. Anyways," he squeezes my arm once more before letting go of me, "if ye'll all excuse me, I'm pay gonna nature a wee visit, check our horses, and take first watch." He turns his head to me, his grin softening. "Ye get some sleep. Dinnae try to stay awake for me."

"Eric," I grumble against him as Locke and Torrance start speaking with each other.

"I'll be nearby," he says. He stoops to me and kisses my forehead as he gets up from his spot. I tilt my head back to keep him in my sight as he towers over me. His eyes linger on me for two of his breaths. "Night lass," he says for only my ears.

I force a smile for him. "Goodnight."

He starts for the horses, his eyes staying on me as he goes. I turn my head as far as I can to watch him head for the horses, straining the muscles in my neck. He'll be nearby, he said. It's not so much that I fear he will leave now, but seeing him walk away...it is a terrible glimpse into my future if I ever confess my true name.

Locke's rowdy laughter manages to pull my eyes from Eric to the three men remaining at the fire, though I cannot forget the sight of him leaving. "Your dragons are impressive, but my lions," Locke leans forward, the flames writhing in his black eyes, "they are fearsome in their own right."

"Tsk!" Torrance scoffs.

Locke gives Torrance a sharp look, his smile gone. "You have never heard of the man-eating lions of Tsavo?"

"We've heard this tale twenty-two, twenty-three times now?" Wessel says, glancing at Torrance.

"Sounds right." Torrance nods at Wessel and looks to Locke. "I'm sure Eric would love to hear it again, though!"

"Ah!" Locke dismisses Torrance with the sharp wave of his hand. "You two have no appreciation for lions!"

Torrance laughs. "Forgive me if I don't find it interesting how old a deer's shit is like you and Eric do."

My eyes widen and a giggle escapes me. Wessel chuckles, too, and glances my way. He leans towards me as his chuckling ebbs. "Forgive our foul mouths," he says.

I snort and shake my head at him. "I've heard worse," I say to Wessel and look at Locke. Locke and I have barely shared a word aside from a few greetings and my shameful ignorance of his dark skin. He must have many interesting stories to tell about his homeland in the east. Stories that may distract me from my dark thoughts about Eric for a bit.

The conversation around the fire lulls. Now's my chance. "Locke?" I ask. His black eyes lift to me, the fire still in them. "We haven't spoken much since Vilgard."

"No, we have not."

I swallow, willing myself to ignore my churning stomach. "I remember Eric saying you're from the east. What brought you here?"

He tilts his head to the side, something stirring in his eyes, but what I cannot discern. "My father brought me here. He was a skilled horseman by trade. He knew how to condition colts, stallions, and old geldings for war. News of a war brewing in the West drew my father here. He thought he might find gainful employment. When he came here, he was very pleased to see that he was right. He found very gainful employment under your dead King." My heart constricts. Papa. Oblivious to my hurt, Locke goes on. "I followed my father here because I love him. I was not as passionate about the war as him. These people are not my people, so I thought why does this war concern me?" Locke stretches out his long legs and leans back, bracing his hands on his bedroll.

My brows furrow. "Yet from my understanding, you fought in the Phantom War under my King's banner." I cannot help but release a shuddery breath, my heart aching. I am becoming better at denying my father. "Am I mistaken?"

Locke purses his plump lips as he shakes his head. "You are not. I did not swear myself to Magnus' banner out of loyalty to him, but to follow my father to protect him. My father was an ailing man. Despite his ailment, he still saw himself as a warrior and a protector of our home. He feared the war here would spill into Al-Nejud, so he pledged himself to your dead King to help end the war here."

I can only look at Locke. My heart twists about itself and grows so heavy. Eliza's plea, Wessel's warnings, Eric's revelations—it all pours into my head at the same time. We lost the Phantom War. Now, the evil that Locke's father sought to stop here is spreading to other lands, possibly even into Al-Nejud which must be Locke's homeland.

"Where's your father now?" I manage to ask him.

Locke looks back at me, the fire writhing in his black eyes. "Dead," he says, cold and emotionless.

A burning pain fills my chest, scorching what's left of my heart. I see the blame in his eyes. Was it not my father who led his men into battle against Ravenna's Phantom Army? Was it not my father who cut down the two foreigners who had selflessly come to help us win this war? "I'm so sorry," I say. Tears sting my eyes and burn my nose. I drop my eyes to the fire, watching the flames writhe about each other as if they are in agony. "I'm not very religious, but when I find a candle, I will light it for your father in honor of his sacrifice."

"You would light a candle for a black man from the East?" Locke asks me with an even voice, though there is a slight inflection of his surprise.

"I pray it does not offend you. I only mean good will towards your father and you." I bite my tongue. Did I say the right words? The fire pops twice amidst its crackling. No one speaks. One of the horses nickers faintly. Is Eric nearby? Did he hear any of this?

"I appreciate the thought," Locke says suddenly. My teary eyes dart back to him, my sight too blurry to see his dark face clearly. "If I come across a candle, I will bring it to you," Locke says.

I swallow and nod. "Thank you," I say, my voice raspy with the need to weep. I fight back the tears. "I will also keep an eye out for a candle. I promise."

Locke nods to me and lies down. I look over the easterner as he closes his eyes. His breathing soon becomes even. I let go of my breath and look across the flames at Torrance. He is fast asleep. He must have laid down sometime while Locke and I were speaking. I look down at Wessel—his eyes are wide open.

"You're still up," I say quietly.

Wessel nods. "I was thinking about what you promised to do for Locke's father."

"Oh?" I perk up.

He nods again, his mind hard at work in his eyes. "I was thinking...if we can convince Eric to make a quick stop at Polliard, there's a candlemaker there. We have some gold left over from the heist that we can use to buy a candle from her."

My heart softens for him. "You'd be willing to go into a village despite the risk of being seen by someone?"

He nods slowly, carefully. "I'll purchase the candle myself. No one is going to look twice at me. You can stay on the outskirts with Eric, Torrance, and Locke. I think that would be alright."

I smile down at him, though my stomach churns. "So long as there is no risk to you and my people in Polliard, then I want to go there. Eric will not be too keen on the visit, but we'll keep it short. We only need to convince him. Thank you, Wessel."

Wessel gives me a promising smile. "We'll both work on him."

I giggle and look up at the horses. I catch sight of Eric with Ylva. He stands beside his horse stroking and patting her neck. She is untethered, unlike the other three horses that are tethered to the stakes in the ground. My heart stumbles over its next beat. His gentle whispers to her carry to the fire, though I cannot hear what he is telling her. Though it would be better to avoid any more villages due to the risk of someone seeing Eric and me and recognizing us, I feel...I have to get a candle so that I may light it for Locke's father. Knowing my people's prejudice, especially after believing that Locke helped Luke and Eric to betray us, they would have torn down any memorial to Locke's father to erase the memory of him. It's the least I can do for Locke's father...for his sacrifice even if it was more so for his people than for mine. Hopefully it won't be too difficult to persuade Eric. All he has to do is sit outside of Polliard. A short visit. That's all.