"What the hell were you thinking? Do you have a death wish?" Cillian berated me in modern English as soon as I was within earshot, likely still wary of any eavesdroppers. His arms were crossed, his expression a storm of fury, but I merely smiled at his outburst, hoping he would see my amusement in my eyes. His narrowing gaze told me he did.

"I told you I wanted to speak to whoever knew of Thorfinn's whereabouts alone. That hasn't changed. It's not my fault you forgot."

I walked past him, eager to move away from Askeladd's camp. The last thing I needed was for Askeladd to suspect I had any deeper connection with these Vikings beyond being a traveling cook.

Still, with Cillian lurking so close to their camp, I didn't doubt he suspected something. However, I doubted he could ever come close to the truth.

"Venturing over there alone was reckless and foolish," he admonished, his steps falling in line behind mine as we made our way back to camp. "What if you instigated a duel by failing to hold your tongue and ended up provoking one of them? Or worse, what if you were unmasked?"

"Then I would have dealt with it as I always do," I replied firmly.

"How would you handle it?" he pressed, his voice firm and unyielding. "You can't negotiate your way out of confrontations with men like that. And you're just a woman. If they decided to turn violent, no amount of evasion on your part would protect you from their brutality. Do you understand the dangers you've exposed yourself to?"

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly before adding, "Given your strange behavior in recent days, you might even welcome it."

I whirled around, my fury momentarily consuming me. "How dare you lecture me about the risks I choose to take! Not after the hell you put me through, the torment I endured for your vision! Plus, fuck you, Cillian!" My hand rose as a dismissal, and I readied myself to turn around again, to march into camp, but Cillian had other plans.

He brushed off my outburst as if it were inconsequential, his dismissive attitude only stoking the fire of my rage. "Need I remind you what your sisters endured—"

Without a second thought, I unleashed my fury in a swift, violent punch. The impact sent him crashing backward, his body hitting the ground with a thud. As he lay there, dazed and bloodied, all I could hear was the harsh rasp of my own breath and the eerie silence that enveloped us, broken only by the distant echoes of laughter from Askeladd's camp.

Cillian gingerly sat up, his hand cradling his injured chin, blood staining his cheek and his split lip. I felt my own blood trickling down my clenched fist, probably from nicking his nose guard. The blood on his cheek was more mine than his.

With deliberate effort, I slowed my breathing, waiting for Cillian to rise again. "Don't you dare bring them up to prove a point. You have no right. None at all, especially when it's your fault."

He spat blood to the side, a defiant gesture that only fueled my frustration. "Is that an order?"

"Take it however you want. I'm done with your bullshit tonight."

Turning my back on him, I began to walk away, but Cillian's voice cut through the tense atmosphere. "Everything I've done, everything I do, is because of you. It's always been for you. Don't you dare forget that."

Despite the heavy burden of his words weighing on my already conflicted emotions, I pressed forward, refusing to let what he said deter me. Still, I couldn't resist throwing my own words back at him, my tone firm with determination. "And remember this, Cillian: I'll discard you without a second thought. In the grand scheme of things, you mean nothing to me."

That night was all about preparing myself, packing each item with care and purpose. I knew Askeladd and his men wouldn't share their provisions willingly, so I made sure to gather enough food to sustain me. My leafy poncho, a constant source of teasing from anyone who ever saw it, found its place alongside my spices, weapons, and the unique vambraces-like guards I'd fashioned that we're three hundred years ahead of their time.

As I meticulously arranged everything in my backpack, another item ahead of its time by eight-hundred years, I couldn't help but wonder about the journey ahead. There would be no spare chests available, so I resigned myself to carrying the weight on my back until we reached Askeladd's settlement in Denmark, a destination hinted at by Atli when he was hauling us away from my camp last night.

Looking at my makeshift backpack, patched together from leather and bulging with essentials, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in my resourcefulness. It was fat, bulky, and ugly, but it got the job done.

With everything in place, I hoisted the load onto my back, feeling its weight settle against me, but I didn't let it hinder me. Wrapping myself in my black cloak with red stripes, and making sure my mask was in place, I stepped out of my tent, ready to embark on the journey that lay ahead, the journey that I'd hoped would free Thorfinn from his hellhole.

However, my immediate priority was convincing Askeladd to allow me to travel with him and his band of men.

That intention quickly took a backseat when, upon stepping out of my tent, I found Birger waiting for me. His tense posture and somber expression made it clear he wasn't there by choice, arms crossed as he stood off to the side with the sun that was just now rising over the horizon illuminating his outline.

"Let me guess, Cillian sent you?" I asked flippantly, already anticipating the answer as I let the flap behind me fall that led to the inside of my tent.

Undoubtedly, Cillian had already foreseen my departure. He likely deduced that Thorfinn remained with Askeladd's band and anticipated my intention to join them, aiming to persuade Thorfinn to return home. The means by which he obtained this knowledge were inconsequential; what mattered was that he possessed it, and that fact alone rankled within me. The scheming bastard.

Sending Birger, of all people, to dissuade me from leaving was a calculated move on Cillian's part. After the events of the previous night, he knew he stood no chance of swaying my decision. In that respect, he demonstrated a modicum of cunning.

Birger released a small sigh before replying, "You know he only has your best interests at heart."

"I couldn't care less," I retorted, attempting to brush past him, but he caught hold of my arm.

His action, the physical contact, took me aback momentarily. "So, we're here for a casual chat then?" I teased, a mischievous grin playing on my lips that more than likely reflected in my eyes. "I wonder how Cillian would react to finding us in such a compromising position." My tone was laced with flirtation. "I mean, you're a little old for me, but I don't mind."

In reality, my years doubled his, though I'd confess, I didn't always exude the wisdom expected of someone in their seventies. Perhaps having the body of someone in their twenties influenced my mindset more than I'd care to admit.

He recoiled as if my arm had burned him, but there was no hint of embarrassment or remorse in his demeanor. Birger remained the vigilant, composed warrior, unaffected by my playful jab.

"Will you be leaving us then?"

I tilted my head, offering a simple, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Cillian really dug his claws into you, didn't he? You're usually not this nosy," I remarked, noting Birger's crossed arms, though his gentle eyes betrayed his discomfort with the interrogation as much as my reluctance to answer.

"Just answer the question," he sighed, a plea more than a demand.

I decided to cut him some slack; after all, I liked Birger. He was a kind soul. "Because Thorfinn is still with them, and I want to set him free."

There. I was choosing simplicity. I was extending mercy.

He looked away, deep in thought, before his gaze returned to me. "This is the boy you left behind? The one regret you've mentioned before?"

Birger and I seldom delved into my past, mainly because he never probed, but he must have caught fragments of my conversations with Cillian. I hadn't pegged him as the eavesdropping type, but it was a revelation that brought a faint smile to my lips.

"Yes, he is," I confirmed. If anyone could understand, it would be Birger. Sending him over had been a misstep on Cillian's part. "And I won't leave him behind again."

Once more, he averted his gaze, a distant expression clouding his eyes. "When I joined up with... this group of Vikings," he began after a brief pause, cautious not to utter our group's name in case of eavesdroppers familiar with Irish, "I did so because of the impact they were making in Ireland. I believed I could make a difference, with their assistance." He met my eyes again. "Their influence mattered. I joined because the change I sought, however modest, couldn't be achieved alone."

Perhaps Cillian had a point in sending Birger to persuade me.

But his efforts were going to be in vain.

"I understand your perspective, Birger, but it's because of me Thorfinn is in this predicament to begin with," I allowed him to come along that day, "and I intend to see it through alone. Moreover," I added with a light tone as I passed by him once more, briefly clasping his shoulder—a gesture perhaps ill-advised but I didn't care in the moment, "I doubt these pirates would relish the company of a squad of elite Vikings shadowing them across the ocean like a specter of the sea as I attempt to convince a kid to drop his vendetta and return home. It might just wet their knickers a tad and I don't think they'd appreciate my company for long after. Besides, our boat isn't black nor its sails. Wouldn't be right if we ended up taking on the ghost ship moniker."

"And what does having a black boat and sails have anything to do with the nonsense you just spewed?" he asked, turning to watch me as I took a couple of steps away, walking backward and ready to take off before Askeladd and his men set sail.

"You haven't heard?" I teased, successfully diverting the conversation. Cillian plan might have worked if I didn't know how to manipulate someone like Birger. He had a thing for ghost stories and the unnatural. "They call her the Black Pearl. She's been preying on ships and settlements for nearly ten years," I said in Irish, but with a deliberately over-the-top English accent. "Never leaves any survivors. Spooky, isn't it?"

Birger opened his mouth, perhaps to ask more questions or to question my sanity. I could see the confusion battling with curiosity in his eyes. I turned and began jogging away, but still within earshot, I called back, "Tell Cillian I'll write to him as often as I can! If he doesn't hear back from me within two moons, I give him permission to come search for me, no questions asked! And tell him not to worry about feeding my cat—she prefers mice to men anyway!"

"You don't have a cat!"

I kept silent as I jogged through our camp, heading toward Askeladd's band, who were busy dismantling their tents in preparation for the journey home. My heart pounded in my chest with anticipation, but I continued forward. Without drawing attention to myself, I walked through the group as if I belonged, making my way directly to Thor's old ship. I hoped to find Thorfinn there, wanting to speak with him before anyone else could join us. I needed to explain... something. In truth, I wasn't sure what to say.

Leaving Cillian's group and joining Askeladd's was a choice I hadn't planned for, a twist in my search for Thorfinn that felt like a cruel joke. I had naively believed he would have left Askeladd's band long before now. How could he stay with the man who had caused so much pain, so much suffering? How was he able to handle being in his presence for so long? He must be in constant torture.

I thought my life was difficult, but Thorfinn's existence seemed like a living hell. Had he ever laughed in these seven years? Found joy in anything? Had a chance to relax? To do the things children do?

As soon as my foot touched the water near Thor's boat, a sudden yank pulled me back. It took immense willpower not to spin around and kick whoever had grabbed me. Fortunately, I restrained myself, recognizing Bjorn's as he whirled me around to face him, his hard eyes boring into mine.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, releasing my cloak. His gaze flickered to the large hump on my back, and I saw the moment realization dawned on him. His eyes widened slightly before he burst into raucous laughter, not just a chuckle but a full-throated holler.

"Don't tell me," he managed between laughs, drawing unwanted attention from others, "you plan on joining us? You? Of all people." He shook his head, his left hand resting on his hip as he regarded me with an infuriatingly amused expression. His laughter was grating, and I felt a surge of irritation.

Pointing at me with a mock-accusatory finger, he continued, "Did you forget what you are and who we are? Or are you just that foolish?"

I could quite literally feel my eyebrow twitching. "Why do men think they can lecture me on what I should or shouldn't do?" Besides, why was he even bringing this up? He didn't care. He definitely did not care. "I'm fully capable of making my own decisions and I'm well aware of the risks I'm taking." This line felt too rehearsed for my liking.

His eyebrows rose slightly as he crossed his arms, his expression turning stern again. "Is that so? Sounds like you have people who care about you. It might be in your best interest to return to them."

My back straightened, meeting his gaze defiantly. "I'm not going back. And if I'm the kind of person who shouldn't be around someone like you, then why are you suddenly playing the concerned guardian? It's out of character."

Bjorn's grin turned mischievous. "Well, there's enough respect between us for me to mention it. But if you're up for risking more than just your hide, who am I to question your recklessness? Just be ready for the lads to want to spear you in more ways than one. Consider yourself forewarned."

I let my eyes go half-mast, my voice low and sultry, just loud enough for him to hear. "Then they'll be well acquainted with everything my body is willing to do. They'll find it rather agreeable to a spear or two." Like stabbing their own faces, but Bjorn didn't need to know the finer details.

An incredulous smile graced his lips as his hand flew up to cup the side of his cheek and helmet. "Well, damn. Guess I can't argue with that."

Hopefully, my cheeky allusion to a threesome didn't cost me any of that mutual respect he mentioned, but he did bring up the innuendo first.

Keeping him entertained was a solid start. If I was going to navigate life among these barbarians, I needed every advantage I could muster for when the shit inevitably hit the fan.

The longer I stayed, the more inevitable it became that my secret would be exposed. I was certain of that, and ignoring the possibility would be my undoing. But if I could charm them, one by one, like a sly fox in a den full of wolves, my odds would likely improve when the big reveal finally came.

"Well, since we agree," I began, starting to walk away, "guess I'll just head over here and—"

He grabbed my cloak and pulled me back. When I turned, I saw amusement dancing in his eyes, but his words quickly soured my mood. "Not so fast," he said, then let me go. I stumbled back, the water splashing my ankles, but waited for him to continue. "You need to speak with Askeladd first. He has the final say on this matter."

"Think he'll say no to me coming along?"

"I have no idea what he'll agree to." He said it so nonchalantly that most people wouldn't have noticed the smile slipping from his face, replaced by a dour look.

But I wasn't like most people.

My head tilted, curiosity gleaming in my eyes as I observed him. "I bet he'll agree to let me come along. Purely for the sake of amusement," I whispered, leaning in as if sharing a confidential insight. If Bjorn was concerned about Askeladd's being unpredictable, I could play off that. "But he won't make it easy. Oh no, he'll draw it out, toy with me, maybe even try to goad me into losing my composure."

A smile danced in the corners of my eyes as I painted the scene. "Thorfinn might be his pawn in that game, a tool to push my buttons. And I'll probably fall for it, even though I know it's coming, and I'll push back myself."

Leaning back, I shrugged casually, but the determination in my voice remained unwavering. "He'll indulge in his own rhetoric, relishing the sound of his own voice, before finally conceding to my request."

It was all about playing his game, pushing the right buttons at the right time. It was a calculated risk, but if I played my cards right, I could turn it into reality. The trick was knowing just how far to push.

And to not push too far.

"You think so?" Bjorn asked, clearly taken aback by my bold statement. Whether he thought I was channeling Askeladd's cunning or simply considered me out of my mind, I couldn't tell.

Undeterred, I let my confidence shine through. "Absolutely. I'll wager two silver coins on it."

A grin spread across Bjorn's face. "You're on."

Askeladd lounged on a log near the edge of his boats, arms folded and one ankle crossed over the other. Engaged in conversation with a random pirate from his crew, he seemed relaxed. But the moment he noticed us approaching, his smirk sent a jolt through me, and he waved the other pirate off. His gaze lingered on my attire a moment too long for comfort, sending a shiver down my spine.

When his piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, he arched an eyebrow. "And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company for two days in a row? I must say, it's quite the eventful treat."

My gaze sharpened in response. "Ah, well, I suppose I couldn't resist gracing you all with my presence for another day," I retorted with a wry smile. "Who could resist such fine company, after all?"

Enough of the playful banter; it was time to get to the point. Every moment spent in his company felt like a test of endurance. I steeled myself for the mental challenge of engaging with him further.

"In fact," I continued, with a hint of sarcasm laced in my words, "I wouldn't mind indulging in the company of such... courteous individuals, if you'd permit it."

Bjorn, ever the loyal companion, couldn't suppress a loud snort at my choice of words, his amusement evident.

Askeladd's lips curled into a sly smile, his posture exuding a sense of effortless authority as he leaned back. "Ah, such flattery," he remarked, his voice carrying a playful edge. "It's almost as if you're attempting to charm your way into our good graces."

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he continued, "No clever jabs about my supposed incompetence in bed? Or perhaps you'd prefer to flash that favorite middle finger of yours? Just to even the score, of course."

He closed his eyes briefly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "But let's dispense with the pretense, shall we? We both understand there's more to your visit than mere idle chatter."

He suddenly paused, casting a glance at Bjorn, whose snort must not have gone unnoticed. "Bjorn finds your words amusing, it seems. Perhaps he's not used to such...courtesy."

So, he deciphered the meaning behind the middle finger. Perhaps I should be concerned that he recognized my not-so-subtle message to fuck off. I really ought to care…

"What can I say, I like to change things up. Considering how courteous you've been to me, I should return the favor, right? What do you say, Askeladd ," I did my best not to choke on his name, though it felt like a mouthful, "allow me to cook for you and your crew for a bit. It'd be my pleasure."

His eyes narrowed, but his smirk didn't waver. "You'll cook for us, while on the side you try and take Thorfinn away? Can't say I can agree to that." His gaze suddenly drilled into me, watching for a reaction, just like I predicted. I had to resist the urge to flash Bjorn a victorious smile. "After all, Thorfinn's been a great deal of help to us over the years. Can't say I'm keen on letting that change."

I knew it was coming, but it still pissed me off.

"I'm sure he has been. Manipulating a child to do your bidding? Quite the achievement. Must make you very proud. You'd make a great father one day, if you ever settle down," I said playfully. Then I shrugged. "But, yeah, you're not wrong. I would like to take Thorfinn away from all this, if I can. I won't deny that. But he does seem to be stuck quite far up your ass, so it will be quite the challenge to pull him back out from all that" -- damn, I was insulting him, or about to -- "sterility that makes up your wonderful lifestyle."

Sterility. Really? That was the best antonym I could come up with?

Askeladd's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Manipulating a child, you say? It's merely survival. In this world, you use whatever tools you have at your disposal." He pauses, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and calculation. "As for being proud, I have no need for that. Pride doesn't keep you alive on the battlefield."

He stood up abruptly, causing me to stiffen. Despite my attempts to read his motives, Askeladd's complex and cunning nature rendered him unpredictably mercurial. While I might occasionally anticipate his next move by understanding the game he was currently playing, any provocation could lead him to upend the board entirely, shifting the playing field on a whim—simply because he could.

Take, for instance, the moment he'd approached Thors to assume leadership. That request blindsided me, completely unexpected. Yet, it did offer a glimpse into his motivations, albeit a small one.

But…I sure did provoke him…

He took a step closer, his tone softening but with an edge of menace. He was starting to get intense. "You wish to take Thorfinn away from all this? Good luck. The boy is driven by a hatred stronger than anything you can offer him. He's not here because I've manipulated him—he's here because he chose to follow his path of vengeance."

His expression hardens, the smile never reaching his eyes. "And as for pulling him back from my 'sterility,' as you call it... well, you'll find that detaching him from his quest won't be as simple as your playful words. Thorfinn is bound to me by more than just manipulation. He's bound by his own choices and the blood he seeks to spill."

He tilts his head, scrutinizing me. "But if you think you can succeed where others have failed, by all means, try. It will be quite the spectacle. Just remember: this world is unforgiving, and it doesn't favor the naive."

My eyes lit up at his words. I got what I wanted from him. "So, that's a yes then for me joining your crew?" It wasn't really a question. He did say it in a roundabout way.

Askeladd's eyes flickered, this time with a mix of amusement and that stupid calculating judgment of his. Which was a good sign. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "You've got spirit, I'll give you that. But joining my crew isn't something to take lightly."

Askeladd's gaze flickered briefly to Bjorn, who was watching with a bemused expression. "Well, I suppose we could use a change of pace. Your enthusiasm is... refreshing."

He paused, his gaze piercing. "Very well. You can stay and prove your worth. But know this: one misstep, and you'll find out just how unforgiving I can be. Thorfinn's fate is his own, and your presence won't change that."

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he angled his body away and then added, "And remember, we're a discerning lot. If your cooking doesn't match your words, you'll have more than just Bjorn's snorts to deal with." He turned from us then and as he walked away, over his shoulder he said, "Let's see if you can live up to your offer. Impress us, and who knows? We might just keep you around for more than a meal."

I found his parting words unsettling, déjà vu in a way, though the encounter ended more smoothly than I anticipated. At one point, I half expected him to draw his sword on me, the tension coming off him was mildly intense.

"Told you he likes to hear his own voice, didn't I?" I said to Bjorn, turning toward him again. Then I smiled mischievously with my hands on my hips in triumph. "You owe me two silver coins."

Bjorn let out a hearty laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Aye, Askeladd does love the sound of his own voice," he replied, his grin broadening as he glanced at Askeladd's retreating form. "But don't we all?"

Then his amused eyes returned to me. "And you even managed to predict Askeladd's words, didn't you? That's no small feat," he remarked, his arms uncrossing as he reached into the beige gambeson near his neck. Retrieving a pouch, he extracted two silver coins and extended them towards me. "Fair's fair. You earned these." His grin broadened as he added when he placed the two coins into my open palm, "Just don't let it go to your head. Predicting Askeladd once is one thing; keeping up with him is another story altogether."

With a nod, he concluded, tucking his coin pouch away, "Still, you've got some sharp instincts. Let's see if they keep serving you well."

"They've served me for seven years," I said as I glanced down at the two shining coins in my hands. It surprised me how clean they were. "I'm sure they'll continue to do so," I added with a confident smile, pocketing the coins. "Thank you for the wager, Bjorn. It was a pleasure." I glanced back up at him, meeting his gaze with determination. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go speak with Thorfinn."

With a final nod, I left Bjorn, his amusement lingering in the air behind me. As I made my way back towards Thorfinn's ship, a whirlwind of thoughts churned in my mind, silently questioning the path I had chosen to tread. What on earth had I gotten myself into?

But know this: one misstep, and you'll find out just how unforgiving I can be.

Sure thing, Askeladd . In the last seven years, I'd probably been through worse.

Askeladd

That gleam in her eye as she questioned him about joining his crew grated on Askeladd's nerves. It felt as though she believed she had bested him somehow, and he couldn't shake the suspicion that her performance was meant to goad him.

And he had fallen right into her trap.

Even now, as they set sail, he couldn't help but steal glances at Thorfinn's boat, where she perched herself on a now unclaimed coffer, assisting with rowing out to sea. The irritation lingered, a constant presence. And then there was Bjorn. It was evident that he had relished the girl's words, eagerly anticipating the spectacle she would provide. She was undeniably charming, Askeladd begrudgingly admitted.

But it was all a façade, it would seem. Askeladd had a keen eye for discerning a person's true nature by looking into their eyes. Most women he encountered shared a similar gaze, but this girl... Her eyes flickered between foolishness and cunning, as if engaged in a silent debate. And he had been none the wiser, dismissing her as merely foolish and naive until her eyes shifted from that idiotic gleam to a shrewd, calculating gaze, prompting him to reassess their entire conversation in an instant.

To call it intriguing would be an understatement. A girl, of all things, displaying the eyes of a seasoned manipulator. He couldn't deny that he was intrigued, even charmed.

But ultimately, she was just a girl. Despite her seeminly sharp wits, she held little sway over anything else. The world showed no mercy to the weak, and Askeladd doubted this woman would be an exception to that harsh reality.