The Skabelse

We All Have Secrets

Sorry for the hiatus! I was busy with school, work, Thanksgiving and Black Friday shopping :P So as a huge sorry, here is two extra-long chapters! I hope you enjoy them!

After dinner was finished and the tables were cleared, the woman who first greeted them in a royal blue robe announced that the High Kings and Queens would hold a meeting with the leaders of the tribes that have arrived tomorrow evening at dusk.

Bjorn swallowed hard, immediately feeling the all too familiar sensation of adrenaline as it slowly trickled into his veins. The thought of striking down his enemies and bringing Blanche and the other traitors to justice by the end of his blade made him eager and he reveled in it.

Rowan's chilly touch on his arm brought him out of his thoughts. He looked down at her and into her sapphire eyes and smiled warmly, causing his white teeth to flash against his russet skin. "Yes love?"

The Gladeswoman smiled, biting her lower lip, "Would you like to come to my room now?" She had missed the warmth that only his body and tender kisses could provide her and wanted to explore the sensations his hardened body could give further. She lightly traced her thumb over the crook of his arm, noticing how warm his skin contrasted to her icy hands.

Her invitation made Bjorn want to swipe her up and carry her to his bedroom. He found a sinful joy in the fact that she wanted him, causing him to suppress a smirk. He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on her forehead, "I will, but I have some matters to attend to first. It shouldn't take long, I promise."

Rowan frowned slightly but nodded her head, "Take your time." She was curious to know what his so-called matters were but decided not to push it.

Bjorn smiled once more and squeezed her hand reassuringly. With a wink he lowered his voice, "I'll see you soon," and made his way to the main doors. The night had yet fallen though a few stars were making their appearance in the violet sky. He took his time wandering the town square, kicking a small rock with his boot until it veered too far to the left.

He decided to wait until the large street was clear before heading to the man's house as an outsider visiting a local family would draw unwanted attention. "That I do not need" he muttered to himself as he leaned against a post in front of a blacksmith's shop.

Each time he was about to cross the cobblestone road, townsfolk or a palace guard would either walk to their houses or to the tavern. Finally, after almost half an hour, Bjorn had his chance.

He quickly looked to the left and right once more before briskly walking over to the house.

As he stepped onto the small porch, he noticed that pairs of shoes of all sizes littered the ground. With a deep breath, he lightly knocked on the front door. He heard muffled voices coming from the other side, and something that sounded like "you get it" before heavy footsteps made their way to the door. In one swift movement, the door swayed open and the man Bjorn saw earlier stood in the archway, looking both confused and intrigued.

"You're one of the Roriks," he said, almost sounding like a question. Bjorn stood up straight, ignoring one of his curls that tickled the back of his neck.

"Aye, I am. My name is Bjorn. May I have a word? There are...a few things I would like to speak with you about if you would allow me to," Bjorn answered in his most formal voice. It was the one that he had used many times on the battlefield when informing his soldiers of a new change of plan or generals of the total lives lost.

The man eyed Bjorn up and down before looking out in the street. Once he was satisfied, he nodded his head and stepped aside, allowing the Rorik to enter his home.