A Heart of Fire Read Free Page A

had become most tiring over the years, though she should be used to it
by now. The night vision no longer bothered her as it had when she was but a
girl. Raids struck fear into the hearts of most, but not hers. She did not fear
battle or blood. The aura of combat sang through her to her core. She thrived
on raiding, on the clash of steel.
    On vengeance and retribution.
    Her lower belly cramped then, and Finna gritted her
teeth. The cold would not be the only thing to bother her today. With a wash of
annoyance, Finna stood and lifted her nightdress to check between her legs, and
as she suspected, her courses had not yet come, but soon. She dropped the hem back into place. She would not let her
femininity hinder her, not today.
    Finna reached for her clothing where she had tossed
the articles over the back of the chair and took her breeches, shaking them out
and stepped in. She made quick work of lacing the front and then discarded her
nightdress. She took up her tunic next and thrust her arms and head inside,
pulled the garment down over her bare breasts, and then tugged her long,
silver-pale hair free over her shoulder. She noted her breasts were more tender
than usual, another sign sent to bother her.
    She went to the table by her bed where a whalebone
comb lay and began brushing through her tresses, wincing here and there at a
tangle.
    Dawn will be upon us soon , she thought as
she carelessly tossed the comb onto her bed and began to braid the strands,
weaving her hair as tightly to her head as she could, out of the way. Come
first light, she and her men were due at the longhouse by her father's command.
    This day had been most anticipated by all for some
time now. She was certain Jarl Hadarr—a Jarl despised by all in her
village—expected their coming, for her father's men attacked most often. Her
father’s plan to raid shortly before winter froze the fjord so a crossing would
be treacherous on foot was well known by now. The time between this raid and
the freezing winter would leave Jarl Hadarr scarce time enough to gather
warriors to come to his aid to retaliate. He would not be able to touch them
until next spring at best.
    Finna smiled at that. Hadarr had not the men to defend
his people, not anymore. And they made a most appetizing target, for not only
did they have the best to loot from, but also they rarely retaliated— and Jarl Hadarr was her father's
younger, weaker brother. A man she rested her hate upon justly.
    She could never forgive her uncle.
    He had taken everything, even her mother. Her father
had told her stories of the day he had returned to find his brother in their
father's place, seated high on the dais. He told her of when her uncle had
banished him from their lands and how Hadarr had taken her mother and slit her
throat. Her father had tried to save her mother, as he had her, but he was too
late.
    The woman cradling her in her arms as that broadsword
pierced the wall in her night vision, she oft wondered if that was her mother
and the dream was her only memory of the woman. She carried that vision with
her always, but especially as she readied herself for battle with her uncle's
people. The longing for the mother he had stolen from her quickened her blade,
sharpened her instinct, dulled her compassion.
    To avenge her mother, that was why she had become a
warrior. Now she was prized as one of her father's best. Even though she met
all the men’s height in their village, even her father—the tallest of them
all—her slender build made her more lithe than the lumbering men in close
combat. Her skill in battle had brought her many things, but mostly Aldar's
respect. Especially now. He preened at sending her into battle with his brother
for the first time.
    The day her father had announced that she would lead
this raid was most likely the happiest day of her life thus far. It thrilled
her to participate in any raid, but against her uncle—she closed her eyes a
moment, imagining what was to come,