Blood Moon| The Last Kingdom| Sihtric Kjartansson

FOURTEEN

He offered a thin smile, his hand reaching out to cover mine on my bridle, squeezing it softly, "I am sorry still." 

His hand was warm, his fingertips calloused and I could feel a scar on the inside of his palm, long and jagged, like he had grabbed a sword in his hand.

I nodded slightly, "Thank you."

"Why did they die?" Sihtric's skills as a spy preceded his own consciousness; he gathered information like a bird gathering seeds.

I took his hand off mine, turning it over instead to study the scar he had, "My oldest brother was born to my own mother. He drown when he was three, in the river by our camp." I traced my finger over the scar carefully. "My father's first wife, Gunhild, Daga and Ellida are hers but her third child, a son, chocked in her arms on her milk."

"It was her mother's curse," Saga piped up, catching Sihtric's attention, "Gunhild drowned Gyda's brother from her jealousy. Gyda's mother cursed her so that one of her children would die the same way."

Sihtric shuddered slightly at the mention of curses and I let go of his hand, watching as he pressed it into his chest, over the pocket where he kept the pendant I had gifted him. "And the others?"

"Siriana's babes," Saga sighed, shaking her head slowly, pity clouding her face, "all stillborn or sick."

Sihtric looked to me for answers and I offered him a small smile, "My father's third wife, she cannot bear healthy children. She has lost five."

"May the Gods bless her," Sihtric shook his head, "poor woman."

I hummed in agreement. Siriana was a good woman but she married too young and lost her first child too harshly; life was not kind to her. Now, she roamed my father's camp, talking to children she had already buried, playing with rocks and offering them her tit. It would be a mercy to let her die but my father cared for her too little to do anything.

"Do you have children, Sihtric?" Saga blurted, her grin returning as she tried to break the sombre mood that followed us.

Sihtric coughed, his cheeks flushing as he slightly moved his horse to the side, further away from me. "No. No, I do not."

"Why not?" Saga pushed playfully, "Do you not know how to use your—"

"We never found the time!" Sihtric rushed out, his face turning completely red, "I was away in battle!"

My stomach fluttered as his shyness sparked a foreign softness inside me. I reached out to shove Saga's shoulder, biting on the inside of my lip. "Must you tease him?"

Saga grabbed her chest dramatically, "Am I not to have any joy at all?!"

"You have plenty of joy without—"

"Dear God above, protect us from these heathen that surround us!" A man blurted out ahead of us, as though trying to make a point.

Saga's face twisted and her hand reached up slowly, her fingers twitching to grab her axe, "What did you say, boy?"

"Saga," I coaxed, trying to lean over further to grab her hand but my back protested, my injuries straining, "Saga, do not."

A hand grabbed the back of the dress I wore, pulling me up firmly. "Saga, do not draw your weapon. That man will probably die by Dane hands in a few days, do not waste your time on him."

Sihtric's hand flattened on my back, urging me to face forward again instead of twisting around. His face was the picture of calm, but thunder crashed behind his eyes, darkening them.

I had to admire him somewhat. He lived and fought with people who hated his very existence simply because he believed something different to them. He was incredibly patient.