Dreams of a Dark Warrior Read Free Page A

asked, “What is it, friend? Your eyes grow fierce.”
    Aidan opened his mouth, closed it. Then he gazed around the scene as if seeing it anew. “Gods.” He reached for her with a hand raised, as if to shield her vision. “Come with me, little one. ’Tis no place for you.”
    She backed up a step.
    He cast her a disapproving frown. “I have pledged my life to serve your father; you were born of his lightning.I could no more harm you than I could myself.” When she relaxed not one whit, he said, “Come. You must be hungry. You can dine in my quarters.” He gathered her sword, offering it to her hilt first. “There will be plenty to eat.”
    They
would
have plenty of food. His army had scavenged this countryside like locusts. All the game that she could have hunted had been slain.
    She peered up, regarding his face. The mortal did seem to have an honest visage. And mayhap he’d do as she bade, or at least give her a horse and enough food for her journey.
    Regin accepted her sword, sheathing it. But when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders protectively, she stiffened. “I can walk on my own, berserker.”
    Under his breath, he said, “’Tis a display of favor I offer you before all.”
    “A display of favor,” she said in a dry tone. “From a
mortal
. Then how can I possibly continue without it?” She allowed him to usher her through the crowds of staring warriors and wenches.
    A few berserkers sought to touch her “fair locks” or “alight skin,” but Aidan’s hand tightened over her shoulder, his eyes blazing even brighter. He cast the men a baleful look and they all retreated without another word, their faces paling.
    Once she and Aidan had navigated the hall’s gauntlet and exited into the summer night, he visibly relaxed, though he still seemed preoccupied. She took the opportunity to study him up close.
    His towering frame was even more imposing, hisheight at least six and a half feet. His white tunic was of a fine weave, fitted over those wide shoulders. Black trews of soft leather outlined his powerful legs. When a breeze blew up from the valley below, carrying the scent of summer wheat and stirring the blond hair around his face, she had the urge to sigh.
    The midnight sun had finally set, and as they walked, he gazed up at the stars, as if for some kind of guidance. For the last week, as she’d searched for Lucia in this strange world of mortals, she’d often done the same. “Whatever is your question, warlord, the stars will not answer you.”
    He peered down at her with those intense gray eyes, rekindling her ridiculous urge to sigh. “Mayhap they already have.”
    Before she could question his words, he stopped before the largest longhouse in the camp, opening the door for her. The interior was rich, with woven rugs on the packed dirt floor. A gleaming table with two chairs sat at one end and a thick pallet of furs covered the opposite end. A fire burned in a center pit.
    He took a pair of candles from a generous supply of them and lit the wicks in the fire, then placed them in holders flanking a polished bear skull.
    “Are you wealthy?” she asked. “For a mortal?”
    “I’ve won spoils enough. But what do you know of coin? You are the daughter of gods.”
    “I know I have none, and I need it for food.”
    He strode to the doorway, ordering some servant outside to bring their dinner, then sat at the table. He waved her to the other chair.
    When she removed her gloves and cloak, her boy’s clothes beneath—trews and a tunic—earned another disapproving frown. She shrugged and joined him, feeling like an adult to be sharing a lord’s table. Even if he was only a warlord.
    “This world is a dangerous place for a girl, Reginleit. And you are not invulnerable to harm.”
    She shook her head. No, she’d not reached her immortality yet. She could still be injured, grow sickened, even die. Though she wouldn’t need food as an adult Valkyrie, now she required it to grow.
    “Then