It’s just—”

“I understand,” Alexeika said, and rested her hand on his shoulder to halt his apologies.

She walked at a rapid stride, her gaze flicking sharply to lamplit faces as she passed the various tents. And each person she saw made her wonder. She hated her suspicions, yet someone here deserved them.

The meal she shared with Willem, his mother, and his little sister Katrina was a modest but tasty stew served with flat cakebread sizzling hot from the stone griddle. Alexeika was too preoccupied for conversation, and as soon as she could thank the woman for her hospitality and leave she did so.  She started for her tent, but suddenly veered away and headed out through the trees to the steep bank of the fjord. The black surface of the water glimmered here and there, reflecting starlight. As of yet there was no moon. The breeze blowing off the water felt tangy and cool against her cheeks.  She loved and drew comfort from the deep, still waters. In the first days after her father’s death, she would row out as far as she could and just sit in the quiet solitude, letting it heal her wounds. Tonight, seeking to settle her troubled heart, she inhaled deeply of the pine fragrance coming from the opposite shore.

“Alexeika.”

Startled, she whirled around and reached instinctively for her daggers before recognizing Draysinko limping toward her from the shadows. She had not heard his approach, and she did not like that.

“The night air is sweet, is it not?” he said.

His thin voice grated on her nerves. She moved restlessly away from him and said nothing. He was the last person she wanted to deal with right now.  He followed her as though she had invited his company. “The pelts are handsome.

I did not expect you to bring in so many.”

“I told the camp I would match last year’s tally,” she said curtly. “I did.” “Aye, and more,” he said. His voice was warm for once with approval. “Excellent work indeed. They will bring much money.”

She cast him a sharp look, but said nothing.

He smiled. “You never fail to amaze me with all you can do.” She did not want his praise. It seemed as false as his smile. “We’ll need a good price to help us through the winter,” she answered, trying to keep their conversation away from anything personal.

Draysinko stepped even closer to her, and his voice dropped to an oily, intimate level. “I admire you a great deal.”

“Keep your admiration,” she replied briskly. “I need it not.”

“Alexeika, are you never soft?” he asked. “Are you never womanly?” Her cheeks felt suddenly warm. Her anger deserted her, leaving her confused and disconcerted. She kept her gaze locked firmly on the dark waters of the fjord. A sliver of moon was rising above the far mountains. She looked for its reflection in the water. “I must go,” she said uneasily. “The day has been long.” “Wait.” He reached out and gripped her arm lightly. “Please. I would speak to you.”

She sighed. “You have spoken enough. Let us close the matter, unless you intend to apologize for your mischief in trying to rid the camp of night sentries.” “I’m not interested in the Grethori,” he said. “And standing watch at night is tiresome and boring.”

“Only to someone who is lazy,” she retorted. “Someone who refuses to care about the good of the camp.”

He tightened his grip on her arm. She tried to pull free, but when she could not, her temper flared. “Release me!”

But he pulled her into his arms and clumsily tried to kiss her. His breath was hot and avid. He stank of the rancid beyar grease he used on his hair.  “Alexeika, you’re such a beauty,” he murmured, trying to capture her mouth with his. “Do you know how you captivate me? I burn for you—” She twisted furiously in his hold and punched him deep in his soft stomach with her free fist.

With a grunt he doubled over, and she backed away from him. She was breathing a little fast; she held her lithe young body taut and ready to give him worse harm. She was intensely angry with him.

“You drunken fool!” she said. “How dare you fondle me like you would some town harlot? I am not for your handling.”

Still doubled over and moaning, he mumbled something inaudible. Knowing she hadn’t hit him that hard, Alexeika felt her scorn intensifying.  But when she swung around and ducked a low-hanging tree branch to head for her tent, he came hurrying after her. “Wait, please,” he said. “Listen to me! Do you know how magnificent you are when you’re angry?”

She had never heard anything so ridiculous. “Are you mad? Leave me!” “I won’t. I can’t. All I do is think about you. I would have you for mine, Alexeika.”

She scowled and quickened her pace.

His fingers grazed the top of her shoulder. She ducked away from his grasp and spun about to face him, her dagger drawn in repudiation.  “Touch me not again, sirrah,” she said, “or I’ll cut off that hand. See how you weave then.”

He dropped his outstretched hand to his side. It was too dark to see his expression, but she could tell he was growing angry.  “Is my affection such an insult?” he asked. “Don’t pull your great rank here, princess, for you have no lands and no real title to claim as your own.” “I wouldn’t let you near me if you were thrice a lord.”

“Careful, Alexeika,” he said. “I am the only eligible man in our camp now. I can have my pick of all the young women, but I prefer you.” “Am I supposed to be honored by this declaration?”

“Who else besides me can you choose?”

Her outrage increased. “I am in mourning,” she said, forcing herself to explain the protocol he should have known were he anything less than an ill-educated lout. “I choose no one until that is over.”

“Your father is dead,” he said. “You are living. Will you waste your life following rules of a court that no longer exists? Come away with me, Alexeika.