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the satisfaction of admitting it.
    “Yes, My Lord,” she answered quickly.
    Leif got into his bed and rolled away from her. Reluctantly, Zahira crawled into her pile of furs. She could feel the hard floor through the furs, but her makeshift bed was close enough to the hearth that it was warm and comfortable enough.
    Still, she lay awake for long hours, thinking over all that had happened to her. Running through her head everything that might still happen. Dreading, and anticipating.
     
    ….
     
    Leif rose early, as the sun began to stream through the room's one window. Zahira sat up blearily, her body aching and sore. She clutched a fur against her body and watched as her Master got dressed – pulling on trousers and a linen tunic, and lacing on fur leggings.
    He did not speak, but after he'd put on his heavy boots, he came over to her. The girl cringed slightly as he reached out a hand, but he only rested it gently on her head, and caressed her hair, stroking her as though she were a pet.
    There was a strange and puzzling look of tenderness on his face, and he seemed pensive. She wondered what he was thinking, but didn't want to speak out of place.
    After a minute, he stopped, and looked away. “Sleep.” He said. “Hilde will come soon. Ask her for anything you need.” He stooped to pick up the axe that rested by the door, and left the room, slamming the door.
    The girl dozed a little, wrapping the furs tightly around herself against the chill that seeped in, now that the fire was out.
    It was not Hilde but Freja who burst through the doors a short time later. She carried a pile of clothes, which she placed on a bench. Without looking at Zahira she stooped to start a fire, striking flint and feeding kindling to the tiny flame. Zahira watched, bundled in her furs. Freja was dressed in leathers again, a large knife hanging at her hip and a woolen cloak covering her shoulders.
    When she was done, she stood and turned to face Zahira, one hand on a hip. The girl lowered her eyes, embarrassed. This woman must know what went on in this room.
    “ Well,” Freja said. “I had to come see for myself, this woman who has so enthralled my brother.”
    Zahira gaped. She was surprised to hear Freja speak her language, but then, the must have traveled with Leif in her warrior days. More than that, she was surprised at the bitterness in the woman's voice.
    She didn't know what to say. Freja intimidated her. “What... what do you mean, my Lady?”
    The woman tossed her some clothes – a white chemise and a tan-colored shift to go over it. Tall, soft boots with long laces. “Get dressed.”
    Zahira hurried to obey, slipping both garments on. They hung a little loosely, and reached right to her feet.
    “ He has not so much as looked at a woman for years.” Freja said, as she crossed the room and began making the bed. “And suddenly, he brings home some little foreign girl.”
    Zahira couldn't help being indignant. “His men invaded the harem where I lived. They were looking for wives to ransom.” She bent to tie the boots, wrapping the laces several times around them. They felt warm and soft and snug.
    “Aye,” Freja agreed. “And he brought home the wrong girl. Now we have another mouth to feed, albeit a pretty one.” She stopped tugging at the furs on the bed and put her hands on her ample hips. “They weren't there by accident. Your master cheated them on a trade, you know.”
    The girl was surprised. She had thought her old Master an honorable man. “I don't know anything about that. I'm nothing, not even a concubine.”
    Freja made a scoffing sound. “Well, my brother certainly thinks you are something .” She walked toward Zahira, who couldn't help cowering away slightly. The woman was tall and solid, and very intimidating. A female version of Leif.
    “ Look here,” the woman said, as she stopped right in front of her. “Leif is the master of this house, and he has ordered me to keep you happy and fed, but if