Free Mistress of the Wind by Michelle Diener Page B

stood over him, the pitch of his growl so low, so menacing, Astrid felt her arms pucker to gooseflesh.
    A small ball of fire suddenly hovered in the air between them, and for the first time, Astrid saw Sigurd look afraid.
    “Tell me why you do the troll’s bidding, even while you swear loyalty to me, traitor.”
    Sigurd said nothing, his eyes on the flames that licked and leapt in the air.
    Bjorn grunted. “It matters not. I could never trust you again, anyway.”
    With that, Bjorn stepped back and the fire ball dropped onto Sigurd’s chest. It seemed to Astrid, unbidden by her, as if in revenge for Sigurd’s attack, the wind fanned the flame.
    Sigurd shrieked, was engulfed, and the there came an answering cry from deep within the trees. Sigurd struggled to his knees, twisting in the heat and then fell, blackened and still.
    Bjorn turned his attention to the direction of the other call. “Leap on, that was another yggren, and I cannot trust they are not in league with Sigurd. Even if they are not, I have killed one of their own, and they will not be happy with that.”
    He crouched down for her, and she clambered on.
    “What is an yggren?”
    “They say they are the dead wood that dropped from the great tree itself.”
    “Yggdrasil?” Astrid gasped. She was over her head in these circumstances. She wondered again what Bjorn was, the most powerful of these powerful, magical beings, and then wondered if she truly wanted to know.
    “You were not harmed by me?” he asked her as he began to speed through the woods again.
    “No.” She’d known why he’d knocked her out of Sigurd’s hands. If the yggren had started running with her, Bjorn would never have caught him.
    “I see the wind still does your bidding.”
    “Yes.” And it still surprised her. Somehow, there seemed no limit to how much aid the wind would give her.
    “Why do you?” she whispered as the air swelled around them, seeming to speed them along. She looked back and saw a wall of dead pine needles, cones and leaves rise up like a wall between them and the clearing, blocking them from view.
    “Why do you?”

 
    Chapter Sixteen
     
    T he tall trees loomed over them and the late afternoon light filtered through, green and gloomy this deep in the forest. They were less than a day from Astrid’s home.
    Even though she had never mentioned leaving him, Bjorn could not stop the dread that weighed him down. What did he have to offer her but the loneliness of an empty palace when before she’d had the constant company of her family?
    She had not been his long enough for him to be sure of her. He had not bound her close enough.
    And she was no meek miss.
    She questioned everything and would not accept that he could not tell her, could not give her answers.
    He found a clearing, protected by a thick stand of trees, and stopped early for the night, wanting to draw out their time together. Even though he knew it was dangerous to tarry.
    “I would not like to bring my family into danger,” Astrid said, leaning back against him, sheltering in his bear’s bulk against the damp autumn chill that seemed to seep bone-deep. “Let us ask our questions and leave as soon as possible.”
    “I agree.” Bjorn huffed out a contented sigh. She did not intend to stay behind, then.
    “I suppose they have started spending your gold already,” she mused. “Freja would have asked for money for a house, so she and Jonas can marry. Tomas will also want his own house.”
    He needed to be wary of Tomas. Of all of them, he held the most sway over Astrid, loved her the most. If he knew the truth, that Astrid was the touchstone in a power struggle, Bjorn’s only point of weakness and Norga’s only obstacle, he would beg her not to return.
    “Please, promise me some things,” he said.
    “My turn to swear some oaths?” He could hear a smile in her voice.
    “Yes. Do not mention what has happened on the mountain to your family. I would have them know nothing of Norga and