Daughter of Fire and Ice Read Online Free

a moment everything disappeared.
    Svanson lying on a dusty road, with anger in his eyes. His anger changes to fear. Clasped hands reach out and stab him with a small but evil-looking knife. Stab him repeatedly. I can’t see who the hands belong to. But I can see the blood. So much blood. Pouring from the wounds in his chest. I hear him screaming, screaming out in pain and fear. And then blood runs from his mouth, and he lies still, eyes staring sightlessly into the distance.
    I was back in the present again and I could no longer hold my nausea at bay. Heaving painfully, my stomach turned itself inside out. Svanson flung me from him and I fell to my knees. I vomited again and then coughed weakly.
    ‘You’re lying, you evil wench,’ I heard Svanson hiss. I looked up, forcing my eyes to focus on him. He looked terrified. I’d spoken my vision aloud. Svanson was gripping his hands into fists, and I wondered for a moment if he would strike me. But he didn’t and I could smell his fear. He was more afraid of me, now, than I was of him.
    I was taken aback at the depth of the horror I could feel flooding out of him. It is not the Viking way to fear death greatly. Our lives are predestined from the moment we are born. A man can go into battle armed only with a club, and if it’s not his day to die, he won’t. Or he can arm himself with plates of iron and take a sword of great name and lineage, and still fall, if the gods will it so. Death in combat is glorious. It’s rewarded by a place in Valhalla, as one of Odin’s chosen warriors. And yet Svanson stood here shaking with terror at the very thought that his time was near.
    He was no warrior, I realized. He’d grown up spoilt and indulged, feasting and drinking in his father’s hall. A life of privilege and ease. He had no acts of valour to his name that I knew of. Only bullying those less fortunate than himself. I despised him from the bottom of my heart.
    I noticed that the slave was staring at me too, his dark eyes wide. I couldn’t read his expression and the sun was behind him, hiding his aura from me. I met his eyes and felt sure he was trying to tell me something. But Svanson drew my attention back.
    ‘I know what you’re up to,’ Svanson said angrily, his fear fading. ‘You are lying, in the hope that I’ll take fright at your foolish words and let you go. Well, it won’t work. You’re coming with me.’
    I remained silent, and cast my eyes down. My head was throbbing with pain and the low sun was like a knife in my eyes. Svanson snatched up the rope that bound my wrists and made it fast to his saddle. He took care not to touch me again. He thrust his hand into his pouch, withdrew some coins and let them clink in his hand.
    ‘I don’t know whether I should thank you or curse you for bringing her to me,’ he said to the man who had captured me. But he tossed the coins to him anyway.
    ‘She had this with her,’ the man said, and he held up my bag. ‘It’s full of seeds and suchlike. Do you want it?’
    Svanson nodded. ‘Yes, give that to me. But go ahead of me now and take that medicine chest to the ship. Stow it carefully in case she has poisons in there.’
    The two men rode off. Svanson put my bag into his saddlebag, mounted his horse and kicked it forward. The ropes on my wrist yanked me after it. I staggered, regained my balance, and began to walk shakily. I was light-headed from the blow to my head. The slave walked beside me. He hadn’t spoken. As we fell into step together behind Svanson’s horse, I felt his eyes on me again. I looked up and met his gaze. There was neither fear nor servility in it. His look was open and slightly puzzled, yet oddly familiar. I looked again. Did I know him? His face was dirty and badly bruised and it was hard to see his features clearly. What I noticed most, now that it was visible to me, was the glow of the deep blue aura around his head and shoulders. It was a peaceful colour, but shot through with the dark