Sylvia clenched her jaw while she filled the dinner bowls. It bothered her to serve Björn. It was not just the fact that he had intended to kill her. There was something intrinsic about this man that distinctly bothered her. Or perhaps it was the way he affected Afi. The quiet and caring man she lived with turned into a rude Wolf around his relative. Sylvia despised this side of Afi. He did not meet her eyes, and even spoke of her in third person. She was no longer “Sylvia”, but simply “Girl”.
Keeping her eyes downcast, Sylvia carried two bowls of soup to the kitchen table and served the men. Placing down a basket of bread as well, she backed away and stood in the far end of the room, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the intruder. The first time Björn came calling, she had aimed to retreat into her room. She had learned by now that the rich Wolf did not desire privacy. He desired a show of obedience.
“Girl”, Björn beckoned.
Repressing a sigh, Sylvia came closer.
Björn motioned to a chair and demanded, “Sit.”
Without needing to glance at Afi, Sylvia could tell he was not comfortable with the invitation, either. Pulling the chair out, she cautiously took a seat.
“You must be weary of standing”, Björn commented.
“Not really”, Sylvia replied. She had gotten rather used to it, and it was not nearly as strenuous as sword practice.
Björn smirked. “You have been useful enough so far. We might make a Wolf of you yet”, he offered in compliment.
Sylvia did not respond.
“You are not going to eat?”, Björn prompted.
Sylvia shook her head. “I am not hungry.” Even if she had been, she would not break bread with a Wolf if she could avoid it.
Shrugging, Björn placed his hands on the table and presented his palms. He waited for Afi and Sylvia to do the same before he closed his eyes. He muttered some orison to a god Sylvia was unfamiliar with. She observed him with interest. Despite his focused demeanour, there was nothing happening. The air stood as still and lifeless as it had been a moment ago. Afi’s mimicked mumbling did not affect any changes, either.
When he was done, Björn picked a piece of bread from the basket and tore it in two. Noticing a pair of inquisitive brown eyes on him, he turned his head. “What is it, Girl? Hungry after all?”
“Do you pray often?”, Sylvia wondered.
“When it is necessary”, Björn answered. “Did you pray in your home?”, he asked, a polite smile on his lips.
“Always. We prayed for protection”, Sylvia stated, giving the Wolf a long look.
“We pray for what we need”, Björn responded calmly. “We did the same in my home. We prayed for the safety of our kin, our pack, our family.”
“What is your god now?”, Sylvia wondered.
Björn shook his head. “We do not need to cultivate gods. Gramr lends us strength from Safeharbour.”
“How can a god help you all the way from the north?”, Sylvia questioned.
Björn waved a hand and chuckled. “You misunderstand, Girl. Gramr is no god. Gramr is our leader, the head of our pack. He is a powerful demon. He can lend us strength, no matter where we are.”
“A demon?”, Sylvia repeated in bafflement. “Why in Gaia’s soul would you enable a demon?”
Björn laughed heartedly. He looked to Afi and motioned at Sylvia. “She is young, is she not?”
“Quite”, Afi nodded. Also reaching for bread, he explained, “He is not that. He is a man, and yet a demon. Gramr protects the north, and he protects us. He gives us strength from afar.”
Sylvia was only more confused. “How can someone be a man and a thing at the same time?”
“I do not know”, Afi admitted.
“He is possessed by a demon”, Björn said helpfully.
“Possession is not real. A human is no crystal. We cannot keep a god, not to mention a demon, inside of us”, Sylvia argued.
“Not at all. He is possessed”, Björn insisted.
Sylvia frowned. “Even if that were true, how could he possibly help you out here? Why did he even send you here? What are you even doing here?”
Björn seemed taken aback at the questions. “To deliver justice, of course”, he stated.
“You call this justice?”, Sylvia scoffed. “We did nothing to you. Nothing!”
Björn’s eyes slimmed. “Tell me, you were one of the Fri pets, were you not? Just as your family committed themselves to aiding the Fri, we have committed ourselves to Gramr’s service. Tell me, Girl, what is the difference?”
“Fri do not kill without reason”, Sylvia snarled.
Björn burst into laughter. “Is that what they taught you?!” Turning to Afi, he mocked, “Fri do not kill without reason. That is precious. Then I guess we can go home!”
Afi drew his lips into a terrible imitation of a smile. “I admit, Gramr’s rule is harsh at times”, he said, in an attempt to mitigate.
“Oh yes, that is true”, Björn agreed. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes loosing focus as he philosophised. “Life is not always easy in the pack, is it, Afi? Duty is a heavy burden on us all.”
“It is”, Afi concurred.
“On some, more so than on others”, Björn added, shooting Afi a venomous look.
Sylvia could feel Afi shrink together in his chair. The hairs on her neck stood up even though she was not implied in the verbal attack.
“And duty aside”, Björn continued, “It is not an easy thing to take a life. I imagine most people are just living their lives, knowing nothing of the ways that—”
“Then why would you join to begin with?!”, Sylvia interrupted, her voice shrill. “Why would you do this, if it is so hard?! Why do you not just leave us alone?!”
Björn frowned deeply before shaking his head. “Join? That is like asking why you joined the country of Sev.” He formed a fist and beat it against his chest for every sentence. “I was born in the north. I was born to a Wolf. I married a Wolf. I fathered a Wolf.”
Meeting Sylvia’s eyes again, Björn softened his voice. Opening his palm in invitation, he explained, “Gramr made sure we had food when the draught swept the country. Gramr made sure the Crown does not take our produce. Gramr kept us safe, always. What did Fri ever do for you? Did they feed you? Did they dress you? Did they protect you? Where are they now?”
“They never killed anyone, and they never took slaves!”, Sylvia spat.
Björn took a sharp breath and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything more, he changed his mind. He exhaled slowly and relaxed his shoulders. Looking to Afi, he raised his eyebrows.
Afi turned to Sylvia. His eyes were open wide. Sylvia felt a shiver run down her spine. Fear was slowly seeping into her bones, like the cold of a winter’s night. Afi was fearing for her life, she realised. She swallowed hard.
“The rules of nature are harsh, but unavoidable”, Afi said. Looking back at Björn, he jested, “Besides, who can blame a man for having an iron grip when he is possessed?”
Sylvia eyed Afi for a long moment. “You really think he is a demon?”, she finally asked.
“Certainly”, Björn said at once. “I have seen it with my own eyes. He spits fire. He can kill a man by merely looking at him. He can command the earth itself by lifting a hand. He is not human”, he stated unequivocally. “Who are we to say we know better what is right and what is wrong than a man who is connected to Gaia herself?”
Sylvia frowned deeply. “How can you call any of this right? How can murder ever be right?”
“It is revenge”, Afi answered.
“For what?!”, Sylvia demanded. She knew it was foolish, but she could not help herself. She screamed across the table. “What did we ever do to you?!”
Afi took a slow breath to steady his voice before he spoke. When he did, it sounded rehearsed, like a textbook he had to recite. “The Fri attacked the north, unprovoked and without warning. They came up the river, killed our governors, and drowned our men in the river. They burned cities and bathed in our blood. We are not here to kill the innocent, but we will not let anyone stand in our way. If your family was killed, they were killed because they stood against justice.”
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“How dare you?! My family had nothing to do with any of this!”, Sylvia shouted.
Björn stood and slammed his hand down on the table. “But they did!”
Sylvia jumped, but she did not take her eyes off Björn. The chilling ghost of fear tingling over her arms was melted away by the pure anger burning in her chest.
“They supported the murderer Thorun and the traitor whore. The wicked sisters took over trade routes when the Crown fell, cut the north off from honey and pepper. They are taking away the freedom of our people, and we will not tolerate it!” Björn swung his arms out to his sides and declared, “One pack! We take care of our own! We are one pack!”
“Calm down”, Afi sighed.
“Calm down?!”, Björn shouted. “This little—”, he began, pointing at Sylvia across the table.
“She is just ignorant. She has lived under Fri tyranny for a long time. She will learn the truth in time. You approved that I keep her. She gave her oath. She will learn. I will make sure of it. I ask you to be patient”, Afi soothed.
Huffing, Björn sank back into his chair. He glared at Sylvia for another long moment before sighing. “You had better make sure of it, or she will not be around for much longer”, he warned.
“I will”, Afi promised.
He turned to Sylvia and ordered, “Go to your room and do not come out until I say so. Think about what you have learned today.”
Affronted, Sylvia clenched her jaw. She stood and walked around the table, avoiding the gazes of both men as she disappeared down the hallway.
“Honestly, Afi, after all we have done for you, you let a little whore speak to me like that?”, Björn grumbled.
“I apologise. Please, give her some time. It must be hard for her to come to terms with it all”, Afi answered solemnly.
“You are too soft, as always”, Björn stated. “She is tainted.”
Sylvia closed the door to her bedroom and threw herself on the bed. She pulled the pillow over her head. She felt like a child, chastised for speaking out of turn. She was so angry. She was so angry, her entire body grew hot and uncomfortable. She was so angry that she cried.
Several hours passed before Afi knocked on the door. He knocked again, but Sylvia did not reply. Slowly, the door handle dipped and the hinges creaked. Sylvia could see Afi from the corner of her eye, but she refused to look at him. She stared at the ceiling. Clenching her hands into fists, she refused to take her focus off the brown grain.
“Sylvia?”, Afi tried. His voice was low and careful.
When she did not reply, he opened the door further. Sylvia turned away, curling her legs up against her body.
“Sylvia, I…”, Afi began. He sighed deeply and turned away. “Get up. We are training today”, he ordered.
Sylvia did not move. She waited for Afi to leave, waited until she could hear him scaling the stairs. She sat up with a start and glared at the empty doorway. Her breathing was hurried. She was going to train, indeed. She was going to learn how to fight and she was going to make use of it. Getting out of bed, she stomped to the front door and pulled her boots on. Afi came back downstairs with her equipment in hand.
Leading on into the now familiar yard, Afi first fed the bored horse and then turned his attention to the fuming young woman. Handing Sylvia the wooden sword and bucker, he prompted, “Stance.”
Sylvia slid her right foot to the side until she had a broad stance. She bent her knees and raised the heavy equipment in front of herself.
Afi adjusted her arms, and then pushed her shoulder to test her stability. She did not waver. Afi rewarded her with a nod of approval. “Forward”, he prompted.
Sylvia pushed off with her left leg, sliding forward. Her arms trembled, but she retained the pose.
“Backward”, Afi said.
Sylvia pushed off with her right foot, sliding backward. She overshot a bit, but Afi made no mention of it. So they continued. Sylvia followed Afi’s instructions, moving across the yard in quick steps, always keeping her arms up. Afi nudged her to adjust an elbow, or a foot, or simply pointed at the ground to where she was supposed to land. She was sweating when Afi picked up the broad stick he had left in the yard. Holding it up, he met Sylvia’s eyes. She glared back at him.
“Ready?”, Afi asked.
Sylvia nodded.
Afi shot forward, striking with the stick, and Sylvia hastily put her sword up to parry.
“Too eager”, Afi scolded, nudging her side with the stick. “Keep your stance. Move your feet, not your arms.”
He struck again. Sylvia jumped back. The stick met her shoulder and she hissed as pain shot through her arm.
“Stance”, Afi scolded.
Sylvia clenched her teeth when Afi swung again. Taking a step back, she met the stick with her sword, and pushed it away from herself.
“Good”, Afi encouraged. “Do not forget to use it.”
He repeated the action. Sylvia moved again, parried again, and as soon as Afi’s stick had slid off her weapon, she swung and struck the stick with her sword.
“Forward”, Afi reprimanded. “You are aiming for my body, not my weapon. You have to strike with purpose.”
Anger boiled in Sylvia's chest. She slid forward and swung her sword.
Afi held his stick up to parry, and a smile spread over his face. “Exactly”, he encouraged.
Taking a step backward, he held his free hand out to the side, taunting Sylvia. She shot forward, swinging for him again. Her sword met the stick, and then the stick hit her head. Pain and heat flared over her face.
“Stance”, Afi reprimanded again.
Sylvia clenched her jaw and tried to strike anew. This time she hit, but it was not thanks to skill. Afi did not bother to parry. When the training sword slammed into his arm, he allowed himself to be pushed sideways, and took a step back before steadying himself.
“Be angry then!”, he shouted.
Sylvia jerked in surprise, but she did not retreat. She clenched her hands around the wooden training equipment.
“Go on! Show me your anger!”, Afi called. He let the stick fall to the ground and held his hands out to his sides. “Drop the sword. Hit me. Give it your all! Let it out!”
Sylvia threw the sword and buckler aside. She screamed and lunged at Afi, hitting him with her balled fists. Afi held one arm up to protect his face, but gave Sylvia free access to his stomach. Sylvia punched wildly. Her mind clouded over and rage overtook her. Why would he not defend himself?! Did he not think she could hurt him?! She would show him! The bastard! Why would he do this to her?! Did he not care?! Did he have no heart, no fucking soul?!
Her hands met his broad body over and over. She felt her arms grow numb, but she did not stop. She kicked for Afi’s legs and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against himself to restrain her movements. Spitting curses, Sylvia struggled and kicked, but Afi swept her off her feet and pinned her to the ground.
Hitting her head on the cobbles, Sylvia groaned. She kicked again, but met only air. She tried to pull her arms free, but there was no escaping Afi’s strong grip. She yelled, screamed at him, but he simply held her until she grew tired. Powerless to do anything else, Sylvia began to cry. She sobbed helplessly, gasping for breath. She clung onto Afi’s tunic and buried her face in the rough cloth.
Carefully, Afi scooped the trembling bundle off the ground. Cradling Sylvia's head with one hand, he carried her inside and up the stairs. He lay Sylvia down on the wide bed. She rolled onto her side, hiding her face against the sheets. She could feel the mattress dip as Afi took a seat beside her. His hand hovered over her for a moment, before settling on her shoulder. He kept it there until Sylvia stilled, and for a long time after. Eventually, he rubbed his palm down the length of Sylvia's arm and let go.
“Sylvia, I understand your anger. I really do. But it will not help you. Anger will never teach you how to fight. If you want to become stronger, you need to be disciplined before all else. Never question authority here. Never show anger. Never show sadness. And most importantly, never show fear. You have to be able to put these feelings aside. They are a weakness which your opponent will use against you. So wipe your tears and steel yourself. Do not cry, do not raise your voice, and never flinch. That is the only way you will be able to survive. Do you understand?”
Sylvia nodded a little.
“If you understand, then repeat”, Afi insisted.
Turning her head, Sylvia frowned back at him. The shape of him was blurry through her reddened eyes. “Really?”, she managed weakly.
“Repeat it”, Afi demanded.
“Never cry. Never show anger. Never flinch. No feelings, because they are weakness”, Sylvia said quietly.
“Good. Remember it. It is essential to your survival. Another outburst like today and what Björn said will not just be threats. I can not protect you again.”
Sylvia rubbed her eyes and turned around entirely. Afi’s face was as stoic as it had been when she first met him, but there was something in his eyes, something she could not quite place. It was not anger. It certainly was not joy. She could not sense it, either. It was nothing. There was distinct nothingness reflected in his eyes.
“Are you okay?”, Sylvia asked.
“You do not hit that hard”, Afi responded softly.
“That is not what I mean”, Sylvia said.
She looked down at her hands, reddened and sore. Afi had been the entirely wrong target. She never truly intended to hurt him. Wolf or no, he had done her no harm. She was just so unbelievably angry. “I am sorry, though.”
Afi waved it off. “How are your hands feeling?”
“It hurts a little”, Sylvia admitted.
Afi took her hands in his own, turning them over and inspecting them. He felt along each finger and knuckle while observing her face for any reaction. “Nothing is broken. You will be fine”, he concluded. “Get some sleep.”
Standing up, he grabbed the blanket and pulled it over Sylvia. He froze with the blanket still in hand. He stared at the lithe hand holding his own.
“Thank you”, Sylvia said.
Afi merely nodded at her.
“And I really am sorry”, Sylvia added before letting go.
“Get some sleep”, Afi repeated.
When Sylvia awoke, Afi was sitting beside her on the bed. He held out a bowl of soup. “I know you said you were not hungry, but you need to eat.”
Sylvia scrambled to sit. Her body protested against the movement, but eventually she managed to untangle from the blanket. She settled against the headrest. It felt as though no time had passed since she fell asleep, but she noticed it was already dark outside. “How long did I sleep?”
“Not long enough, but you need to eat if you are to gain weight”, Afi answered, holding the bowl up demonstratively.
Accepting the ceramic bowl, Sylvia inspected the murky looking fluid inside. It smelled of dirt and looked worse. This is not what she had cooked earlier. Frowning, she glanced up at Afi.
“I am not a good cook”, he defended. “It is not something I have had the opportunity to learn.”
Sylvia chuckled. “Thank you”, she said, before daring a sip.
It was not half as bad as it looked. It mostly tasted of roots and unsalted water. Taking a deep breath, Sylvia braced herself, and drank the soup in big gulps to get it over with. Once she had drained the bowl, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and gave the dish back to Afi, along with another thanks.
Afi settled the bowl into his lap. He stared into the room blankly. His lips were pressed into a slim line. He frowned to himself before speaking up. “I just want you to know that you are free to go as you please. You are not under house arrest, and you have no obligation to stay in the downstairs bedroom or the kitchen. You can leave, too. Keep the door locked, but feel free to take the key. I will leave one by the shoes.”
“Okay”, Sylvia nodded. “Thank you.”
Afi shook his head. “You really should not thank me.”
When Afi met her eyes, Sylvia noticed again just how dreadfully sad he was. She had been blind to it in her rage, but it was there just the same.
“Know that I would never hurt you if you decided to leave the city, but also know that the road is not safe for you, and neither is the forest. You would be in new hands before the end of the night. Staying here, you are safe from…” Afi paused and drew a slow breath. “From punishment. If anyone touches you here, I will bash their skull in. They know this, so they will not dare it. But if you leave, there is nothing I can do to help.”
Sylvia nodded. “I understand.”
“I am sorry”, Afi offered.
Having nothing of value to add, Sylvia sunk back under the warm blanket and closed her eyes.