Free God's Eye (The Northwomen Sagas #1) by Susan Fanetti

she left the room, she picked up her belt and slid the scabbard of her shortsword from it, leaving her dirk as her only weapon. She would need no greater protection. After an early fight that had resulted in the deaths of all of the prince’s remaining soldiers and of two more of their own, these weeks had been quiet, and she didn’t mean to leave the castle grounds. She needed only to see the sky, to feel the air.
     
    Before she lifted the heavy iron handle that would release the hasp and let her pull the door open, she picked up a fur throw and settled it over her shoulders. Once in the corridor, she moved quietly, but even the sound of her breath seemed to echo off the stone walls. Stealth was nearly impossible in a place like this, with massive doors creaking open on iron hinges and stone surfaces returning even the softest sounds.
     
    Along the corridor and down the sweeping, dark stairs she went, completely alone all the way. An enormous edifice, the castle had housed only the prince, his small family, and their servants. When the raiders had combed through it, collecting the treasure, they had come upon room after room that had been richly appointed but obviously unused.
     
    So much space, so many riches, and the people who lived outside the castle had less than the poorest farmer at home. Less even than some slaves. Olga had explained that the prince had taken all of their harvest and rationed back to them food they themselves had grown. Their rations had been meager. Each year, while they’d merely subsisted, they had watched carts full of crops rolling away from them, toward the nearest town, to be sold and enrich the prince.
     
    After the ships had left, laden with gold and silver and jewels, Leif and Brenna and the others had set back the stores they would need for the winter and then opened the bounty that remained to the villagers. That decision had turned the tide of sentiment toward the raiders, who could now roam the nearby countryside and be greeted with waves and nods.
     
    They were under no delusion that their settlement would remain peaceful forever, of course. Prince Vladimir surely had allies, and they would answer his death and try to reclaim his lands. But they had not yet, and, as she stepped out into the night and her breath plumed up in a thick puff of white, Brenna guessed it would be a long while before any foe took up a siege.
     
    Orm and Knut had watch. They sat at the fire in the middle of the grounds, relaxed and talking amiably. Both looked up when she came out of the castle, and both returned her nod, but neither invited her to join them. Just as well—she wouldn’t have known how to have a casual conversation. Aside from her parents, the only person she’d ever spoken to about anything other than plans, strategy, and tactics was Vali.
     
    Vali. He’d been on his feet for almost two weeks, and he was almost as strong again as she’d ever seen him. He was a marvel of a man. Four days after he’d taken what should have been a mortal wound, three days after an infection had laid him lower, he’d mounted a horse and ridden for hours. The ride had nearly killed him again—and then mere days later he’d been back on his feet. For the past week, he’d been on full duty.
     
    Brenna had been more comfortable with him when he was abed and she could leave him behind when she felt awkward or strange around him. He said he was open to her, but still she didn’t understand him. He said he wanted to be with her, but why? To what end? She had spent a good portion of the days since he’d been out of bed devising reasons not to be around him.
     
    But she felt lonely when she wasn’t around him. She liked him very much. More than that, she admired him. He was strong of body and mind. He was forthright. He was goodhearted. The reason he had been so badly wounded was that, in the heat of battle, he’d taken the time to put a horse out of its misery. And he seemed to sincerely like her.