Blood Moon| The Last Kingdom| Sihtric Kjartansson

SIX

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"Gyda!" Daga's voice roared outside my tent, "Gyda, you will come outside! I wish to speak to you!"

"Sh," Saga shushed him sharply, "she is resting."

I rolled my eyes, turning in a circle on the ground, studying the images I had drawn in white chalk. I had had strange dreams all night, and I had woken up to find my skin painted with runes and the walls and floor of my tent littered with lines.

"Our father has rode out," Daga spat, "I am in charge of the camp until he returns. I need to discuss the rules with my sis—"

"You," Saga snorted, "are not in charge. You have about ten loyal men in this camp. The rest of them are your sister's men."

I heard metal sliding out.

"You will bring my sister, girl, or I will parade you through this camp for every man to take his turn."

Another sound of mental sliding out sounded. Saga's axe.

"You can try, but I guarantee you, I will cut off your hands before you can touch me."

Derya, one of my grey wolves who had been asleep on my bed, snorted in annoyance, his tail raising slightly.

I sighed, pushing myself up off the floor, still looking at the drawing. "Yes, yes, I know. You want to sleep. I will go and tell them to shut up."

The wolf's tail stopped moving, and he pretended not to hear me.

I rolled my eyes again, stepping over my other wolf, Arya, and pushing the flaps of my tent open. 

Saga whipped around immediately, sheathing her axe, "Lady."

Daga said nothing, only glaring between Saga and I.

I looked up at the morning sky, pale and grey, clouds rolling over our heads lazily. "You are loud."

"I am sorry, Lady," Saga bowed slightly, "I was riled up, I did not mean to disturb y—"

"I have come to speak to you of important matters," Daga interrupted her. He moved forward slightly, as if to go inside my tent, but Saga raised her arm, blocking him.

"No one enters the Lady's quarters," Saga snapped, "not now and not ever. You know this."

"Those are my father's rules when he is here," Daga stated simply, "they are not my rules. I will enter the tent."

My tent was riddled with spells and charms laced with Freyja's power. My runes had been carved when I was still having my first visions, and half my artefacts and talismans once belonged to my mother. There was unspeakable power in my tent. Power that Daga should never be allowed to see.

"You will not," I told him simply, "we will go to the main tent if you wish to speak to me."

"I will decide—" Daga raised his voice, trying to stand taller, but a short bark from inside my tent had him faltering.

Not a moment later, Derya poked his giant head out of my tent, sluggishly walking towards me and standing between Daga and I.

Daga looked at the wolf wearily, glancing at me a few times before looking away and nodding, "We do not have to go anywhere. I will speak plainly."

"About time," Saga snorted softly, taking a step back as Arya also emerged, petting the wolf's head.

Daga sent her a glare but chose not to argue with her again. "In our father's absence, he has left me in charge of his men."