Seduction of the Bear (Bear Kamp Book 1)

by Rachel Robins

  “Agnarr would never let me–“ Frida began, because of course what he was suggesting was preposterous. Maybe for Daegal, things were different—but that was because he had his magic, something that none of Agnarr's other men could lay claim to. Sure, Frida was a healer, but that was a learned skill.

  “Wouldn't he?” Daegal interrupted. He shrugged. “Of course, he stops short of assigning me slaves or allowing me to own property, but you never would have even expected that I was a former slave. You could… Well.” He shrugged again. “The choice is yours—but that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. Or at least, not wholly.” He peered closely at her. “I wanted to talk to you about your dreams, while no one else was around.”

  Frida's lips thinned to a white line. “I'm not dreaming anymore,” she lied.

  Daegal snorted in disbelief. “Even if I didn't hear you get up to walk around most nights, anyone would be able to see the chasms beneath your eyes and deduce that you haven't been sleeping well lately,” he told her. “Now come, I wouldn't ask about your dreams if the situation weren't dire.”

  Frida folded her arms across her chest. “I don't see that my dreams would be of any business to you,” she said haughtily. “I never should even have mentioned them in the first place. But they certainly aren't truth-dreams.”

  “There's a war in your dreams, isn't there?” the priest persisted. “I don't know exactly what you've seen, but you must have seen the war.”

  “There is always war in these lands,” Frida said. “Especially when you live beneath the roof of a war-king.”

  “This war is different though, isn't it?” Daegal asked. He frowned. “I'm not sure what it is—I don't have a clear sense of it. But it's a war fought on multiple fronts, amongst hundreds and hundreds of people. Surely you must–“

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” Frida interrupted.

  “What if we sailed away with the rest of the men of Groenthjal but made our way north?” the priest asked. “There's a prophecy, and I think–“

  “I don't believe in that sort of thing,” Frida reminded him, even going so far as to press her hands over her ears. Somewhere deep down, she knew she believed Daegal and that she should go along with his plan. This was about something bigger than just herself, about something bigger than just her life. The war that she saw, it was just like the priest said. And she knew, somehow, that it would decimate the already-weakened Daelfjord, once it reached there.

  But things were more complicated than that. She couldn't just throw away her entire life on the chance that maybe this prophecy that he'd heard of was true—and pertained to them. She certainly couldn't trust him, when he'd been part of the band of warriors that had torn her from her home. Sure, the man had kept her secret once and had helped her stay on Agnarr's good side, so that she now lived a relatively painless life as a slave. But she still couldn't find it in her to trust him.

  Once Agnarr and his men set sail again, she planned to escape on her own and head back north to Daelfjord. It would take her quite some time to get there on foot, and she would need to hunt for her own food since she didn't have any coin. But she had no doubt that she would make it back there eventually. It was only a matter of biding her time until Agnarr left.

  “Reidun would never allow you to escape under her watch,” Daegal said, as though he knew what she was thinking. And perhaps he did; Frida didn't really know the full extent of his powers.

  The priest came closer to her, cupping her face between his palms. “Frida, you must sense it,” he said earnestly to her. “Together, we could–“

  “Don't touch me,” Frida snapped, shaking his hands off and taking a couple steps back. But she stared at the man in wide-eyed curiosity, feeling the arc of energy between them. For just a moment, she considered the ways in which he could make her blood sing.

  She could tell he knew what to do with those smooth, strong hands of his. She bet his dexterous fingers would delve greedily inside of her, very nearly bringing her to climax before he even gave her half of what she desired. He would kiss a heated line down from her jaw to her breasts to her navel, nipping and sucking his way along until she was totally flushed with desire. And his member—oh, his member. She could only imagine the way it would look when it was thick with his need, arching up towards his stomach. She could only imagine the way it would feel buried deep inside of her, thrusting liquid fire inside of her…

  Daegal blinked at her and took a step closer, reaching for her. “Gods, Frida,” he said breathlessly, and she wondered again just how much he knew from her thoughts.

  Before they could explore anything more, Reidun's voice rang out through the trees, loudly calling for Frida to return home. Frida glanced towards the water and hurriedly dunked her bucket in, hauling the water up towards the village without sparing a backwards glance for Daegal.

  Chapter 6

  When the boats left at the end of the week, it was exactly as Frida had said: Agnarr had the final word on whether or not she went with them. But much to her surprise, he acted as though it had always been a given that she would accompany them.

  The day before their departure, she went out into the woods to search for herbs to add to her medicine pouch. Of course, she had nowhere near the kit that she'd had back in Daelfjord, but then again, she could guess at most of the ailments that would befall the raiders: sickness and war-wounds. She wouldn't need anything specialized—and alcohol could be used as a painkiller and sterilizer in a pinch.

  She thought back to the conversation she'd had with Reidun that morning. The woman was angry with Agnarr for bringing Frida along with the men, and she was still buzzing around the village like an angry hornet. That morning, she had accused Frida of being a shameless slut, amongst other things, likely guessing that Agnarr was bringing Frida along only so he could get at her womanhood while his wife wasn't around. She was sure it would make things difficult the next time she returned to Groenthjal, if she ever found herself back there again.

  On the other hand, there was Daegal, who was intent on taking Frida off to the north as soon as they were out away from Groenthjal. Frida still wasn't sure exactly what the man was planning; it wasn't as though they'd be able to steal one of the longships and row it off on their own; these ships required a crew of at least ten men each. But they also weren't likely to get very far on foot, especially not since she doubted Agnarr would just let them go.

  There was no way she was going to escape on her own, though; she knew they'd be watching her more closely than that.

  “You'll want some of this,” Daegal said from off to her left, and Frida closed her eyes, counting to ten.

  “Why do you keep following me?” she asked the man angrily. “I'm not interested in whatever it is that you think you can get from me.”

  Daegal raised an eyebrow at her, holding out a leafy green plant to her. “This is sirillium,” he told her. “I know you don't have it up north, but it can be really good for treating burns.” He shrugged. “When Reidun told me you were out here looking for herbs, I thought maybe you could use some help. I know the area pretty well, and I know a lot of the different plants.”

  “What, does Agnarr make a habit of kidnapping healers?” Frida asked sarcastically.

  Daegal shrugged. “I'm not a healer, I just know enough to survive. He stood, brushing dirt off his knees from where he'd been kneeling. “If you don't want my help, though, I can go find something else to do with myself. I just thought I'd offer.”

  Frida bit her lip, looking at the sirillium plant that he had handed her. She wondered just how many other plants there were in that area that had healing properties that she would never even suspect. Any of the plants that they didn't have up north, she wouldn't even recognize—she had never learnt her craft from books or pictures, so she only knew as much as her grandmother had been able to show her.

  She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. “I could use your help,” Frida admitted.

  Daegal wordlessly k
nelt back down, cutting more sirillium and handing it to Frida so she could strip it to just the leaves and store them in a pouch. “I'm sorry if I've made you feel like I'm only looking for something more,” the man finally said quietly, as their hands brushed. Frida blinked over at him. “The truth is, you're a very attractive woman—brave and intelligent as well. But the last thing I need is to get involved with someone that Agnarr is interested in; I know that would mean my death.”

  “And yet you keep finding time to be alone with me,” Frida pointed out, cutting some rubion and placing those leaves in a different pouch.

  Daegal shrugged. “It's nice to be around someone who isn't from Groenthjal for once,” he said. “I've been here for close to ten years now, and even though Agnarr frequently brings in newcomers from other towns, they never really interact with anyone else. I mean, look at the men brought here from Daelfjord; how often have you spoken to any of them over the past month here?”

  Frida shrugged as well. “Not often,” she admitted. “But my situation is a little different.” She had tried to speak to a couple of the men, but they still treated her as though she were a leper, or as though talking to her would implicate them in some sort of scheme that she was running. She didn't know what they thought she was up to or where the frostiness was coming from, but they wanted nothing to do with her, and she had to respect that.

  “What do we have here?” someone asked behind the two, and Frida jumped to her feet, spinning quickly around.

  It was Agnarr, and he didn't look amused to find the two of them out there together.

  “The priest was just helping me find some herbs that I needed,” she said, gesturing towards the bags at her feet. “I don't know the area very well, and I don't know all the different plants that grow here that we don't have in the north.”

  Agnarr grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the priest. “Two slaves disappear together, and I find them plotting their escape,” he growled. “Don't try to tell me that isn't what I'm seeing here.”

  “It's not!” Frida cried, stumbling along with him as he dragged her back towards Groenthjal. She could have cursed Daegal for getting her in trouble like this. “I would be foolish to try to escape from here,” she said. “You and Reidun have been nothing but good for me—and I imagine Daegal must feel the same way.”

  Agnarr thrust her towards the door to his hall. “Get inside. Help Reidun with dinner while I figure out what your punishment will be.” He leered at her. “Perhaps we can take the punishment from that pale ass of yours.”

  Frida gulped. “Please,” she whispered. “You have to believe me—we weren't trying to cause any trouble. Daegal really was just trying to help me.”

  “Inside,” Agnarr spat. “And don't you dare try to tell me what I should or shouldn't believe.”

  “She didn't have anything to do with it,” Daegal said, coming to Frida's defense. Frida was surprised; she would have expected him to stay in the woods and wait for this to blow over. Anyway, didn't he realize how suspicious it looked for him to jump to her defense? He wasn't going to make the situation any better.

  “She didn't have anything to do with it,” Daegal repeated. “She was just out there minding her own business, collecting herbs like she said, and I went out and found her and volunteered to help. She tried to send me away, but I refused to go—and it isn't as though she could fight me on it. We weren't talking about escaping either. Instead, I...” He blushed and glanced over at Frida. “I was trying to convince her to give me a kiss, but she refused me. It's actually lucky that you showed up when you did or I might have forced myself on her.”

  Agnarr looked like he might explode into a rage. “Is this true?” he asked Frida.

  Frida looked fearfully over at Daegal, wondering why he was sacrificing himself like this. It was one thing to admit the truth—he had interrupted Frida, and he had insisted on staying even though she'd initially told him she didn't want his help. But to say that about wanting to kiss her, when they all knew that Agnarr fancied Frida…

  “Is this true?” Agnarr repeated, taking a menacing step towards Frida.

  Frida hung her head. “Sir, he didn't mean any harm to me,” she said quietly. “You can't blame him for being interested—all men want what they know they're not allowed to have. You can't punish him like a man, though; he is only a foreigner and a beast. He doesn't know any better.”

  Agnarr blinked at that and then looked amused. “Perhaps you're right,” he said. “A beast deserves punishment like a beast.”

  Chapter 7

  That night when Frida woke, she listened to the sleepy sounds of everyone around her. Then, she slowly gathered the herb pouches that she'd collected earlier that day, which she had gone back to collect while Agnarr made a show of punishing Daegal.

  She crept along the room towards the door and was unsurprised to see Daegal lift his head to look at her, his eyes gleaming like a cat's in the moonlight.

  “Come on,” she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper.

  The priest slowly got to his feet and followed her.

  “Are you nuts?” he asked once they were both outside. “Do you really think Agnarr's going to let us just walk out of here tonight, especially after everything that happened earlier today?”

  “I'm not planning to escape,” Frida said. “But your back needs bandaging—and I think I might have something in here to dull the pain as well.”

  “I'm fine,” Daegal said coolly, taking a step back.

  Frida rolled her eyes. “I'm not trying to insult your manhood or whatever, but you most certainly aren't fine,” she said. “I can hear it in your breathing. I doubt you've managed to sleep at all tonight—and if those whip marks go untreated, you're in for a rough few days of rowing. Now, get your shirt off and let me have a look at them.”

  The priest hesitated, his hands grasping the hem of his shirt. “It's going to be pretty ugly,” he warned Frida. “I've been whipped before, but never with so much fury as today.”

  “I'm sure I've seen worse,” the healer replied. When the priest removed his shirt, though, and turned his back to her, she wasn't sure that she had. She let out a low whistle and took a step closer to inspect the damage. “He's really done a number on you,” she said quietly, as though Daegal might not know that already.

  The man sighed and sat down on a stump, looking utterly exhausted—and she imagined the pain he was in must be affecting more than just his sleep. “Wait here a minute,” she said quietly, before nimbly ducking back inside Agnarr's hall.

  She returned with a flask of spirits and held it out to Daegal. “Come on, drink up. This is going to get worse before it gets better, unfortunately.”

  Daegal looked doubtfully at her. “I'm not sure stealing Agnarr's drink is the best way to go about showing my contrition,” he said.

  Frida grinned sharply at him. “It's not Agnarr's drink,” she said. “I took it off Finnr during the celebration the other eve. He must have figured he had drunk it, come morning, because I never heard anything else about it—and anyway, he was drunk enough that night that it was entirely plausible.”

  Daegal shook his head, looking amazed. “You're a very surprising female,” he told her. He uncorked the flask and took a healthy sip, making a face at the taste.

  “What,” Frida taunted, “you thought Finnr, of all people, would buy expensive spirits?”

  Daegal rolled his eyes and held the flask out to Frida. “Take a sip, why don't you? It's worse than you might expect.”

  Frida paused for a moment and then rolled her eyes, reaching out to grab the flask and take a sip. Her eyes watered at the taste, but she managed to choke it down without making too much of a face. “It's not that bad, you child,” she teased the priest, who merely rolled his eyes.

  They passed the flask back and forth between them for a few minutes. When Daegal had had a few healthy sips, Frida moved around behind him and surveyed his back again. “You probably need stitches here and here,” she
said, lightly laying a finger over the spots. “But I don't have a good needle to use for that, and I'm not sure I would be able to sterilize it with anything without getting a fire going. But I'll at least get you bandaged up.”

  Daegal hummed in response and took another swig of drink.

  Frida began making a sweet-smelling paste, applying it to Daegal's back as she went. She sang a quiet melody as well, hoping it would soothe Daegal despite the pain.

  “Where did you learn that?” Daegal asked, sounding askance.

  Frida paused for a moment and then continued applying the ointment to his wounds, her dexterous hands moving firmly against his warm skin. “It's one of the songs my grandmother used to sing while she worked,” she said quietly. “I don't know what it means—or even what language it's in. I just mimic the sounds and try to, I don't know, capture the essence of the song, as I remember it.”

  Daegal shook his head. “I haven't heard that song in years,” he said quietly, touching the amulet that hung at his neck. “In ten years.”

  Frida's brow furrowed. “Is it...from your people?”

  “It's Liskandian, yes,” Daegal said. “You don't realize why your grandmother sang it, do you?”

  Frida shrugged. “It's soothing, I guess. I never knew where she came from; perhaps she was Liskandian as well, or perhaps her ancestors were. We don't keep close records in Daelfjord. Maybe it reminded her of her ancestral home.”

  “It's meant to activate your power,” Daegal said, turning to face Frida, much to her exasperation.

  “Turn around,” she said.

  “Frida,” Daegal said, catching both of her hands. “I know you don't really believe in magic or any of that, but don't you realize what you're doing? Don't you realize that things heal faster when you're the one doing the healing? It's not just because of the herbs that you're using—you must know that. Every time you sing that song, you are—whether you realize it or not—channeling your energy into the healing process and ensuring that things heal up twice as quickly as they would otherwise.”