Free Lord of the Runes by Sabrina Jarema Page B

disparaging Asa’s cooking and lack of domestic talents for some time now. But she paid them no heed.
    Leif took another swig and grinned at a serving girl who walked past. Magnus stood in the middle of the room, taking several practice swings with his sword, his back turned to them.
    â€œNo, the loaf would be for the anchor,” another warrior said. “We need her rolls for the ballast.” They all laughed, nudging each other.
    â€œWhat in the Hel?” Eirik had had enough. He rose, but Leif reached across the table and grabbed his arm.
    â€œJust watch.”
    He sank back down with a scowl.
    Asa took a last bite of bread, and stood. She stepped out from behind the table and the men all moved back. Her arms crossed, she regarded the huge red-haired warrior. “Arne, you were the loudest, as always. I’ll start with you.”
    Their hoots trailing behind her, she strode to her small chamber and slammed the door shut.
    â€œI don’t understand,” Eirik said. “Now they’ve hurt her. For you and Magnus to tease her is one thing, but the others should respect her more than that.”
    Leif emptied his cup. “Oh, they do respect her. They’d better. Just watch.”
    They all kept their eyes on the closed door. Even Magnus glanced at it as he loosened up.
    Eirik’s blood boiled. Was this why she was so quiet and nervous? A beautiful young woman like her, being harassed by a group of hardened warriors, would have to live in fear. It made no sense for her brothers to tolerate it. And now she was hiding.
    The door to her room opened. He dragged in a shocked breath as she stepped out. She wore a tunic and leggings, similar to what a man would wear, only the tunic was longer, to mid-thigh. She’d put her hair back in a braid for, being an unmarried woman, she often wore it loose. An empty sheath hung at her side.
    And she carried a sword. A sword? He looked at Leif, his brows raised.
    â€œJust watch.”
    She stalked Arne. The others cleared the floor, and even Magnus leaned against the wall, though he kept a close eye on them. Asa faced Arne, her feet braced apart, rolling her shoulders. He grinned and motioned her to come at him.
    She tilted her head to one side, as though considering. Then in a move so fast Eirik would have missed it had he blinked, she spun and struck. Arne barely brought his sword up in time and knocked hers aside. She pivoted in a counterstrike and the clash reverberated throughout the room.
    Arne was solid and massive, but Asa was fast and agile, like the fine horses of the eastern deserts compared to the huge warhorses of the west. She was just as beautiful. Sleek and fiery, her hair was like a flame, her sword like the lightning. She spun and wove, almost dancing around the larger warrior as he turned, until she hit him in the hip with the flat of her blade.
    â€œBetter you eat less of anyone’s bread, Arne,” she said. “Or we’ll be using you for ballast this spring.” All the men laughed, even Magnus. Arne laughed the loudest.
    â€œThat’s one for Asa, as usual,” another man said.
    â€œSounded more like two good blows she gave Arne.” Leif raised his mug to her.
    Magnus pushed off from the wall and nodded at Arne. “That will do for now.” As Arne left the floor, chuckling, Magnus faced Asa, his sword raised.
    â€œJust pretend Magnus is a loom, Asa,” Leif said. “As big and immovable as he is, that shouldn’t be too difficult.” He leaned over to Eirik. “She hates looms. Nearly destroyed one of ours the only time she tried to weave something. Her sword marks are still in the wood of the frame.”
    Magnus bore down, his sword arcing toward her. Eirik nearly shouted, but if he distracted her—
    Asa met his blade and deflected it. She wouldn’t be as strong as he was, but she could use his own momentum to turn aside his attack. He brought his blade up and around,