Dreams of a Dark Warrior

this!” He roughly jostled her until she had to release her bite. Before she could blink, he had her cloak clutched in his fist.
    “Nay! Do not!”
    He ripped it back. Sucked in a breath. Promptly dropped her.
    All around her, wide-eyed men closed in. She hissed again, pivoting to keep the threats in sight, baring her claws and her fangs.
    One of them asked, “What
is
she?”
    Aidan frowned down at her. “She is merely a little … girl.”
    Brandr said, “By Wóden’s beard, she glows!”
    Regin spat, “He does not wear a beard!”
    At her words, recognition flashed in Aidan’s expression. His gaze lit on her pointed ears, then her eyes. By the way he stared, she knew they were wavering from amber to silver. “You are a Valkyrie. The one whose skin lights up the night. We’ve heard tales of you.”
    “You know nothing of me!”
    Raising his brows in challenge, he quoted a recent edda: “‘Eyes like amber cast in sun, skin and hair offirelit gold. Formed to war, courage as none, beauty to behold.’ You are Reginleit the Radiant.”
    Now several of the men murmured,
“Reginleit,”
in awed tones.
    But not Aidan. He shook his head. “Brightling, you are a very long way from home.”
    Of course that ass Brandr said, “
She
is one of Wóden’s treasured daughters?”
    Shoulders back, Regin said, “Most treasured. Above all my sisters.” Except for Lucia. And Nïx. Likely Kaderin. No need for these mortals to know that perhaps she was not a favorite of his.
At present.
    “Then why are you in the middle of a war, instead of the safety of Valhalla?” Aidan seemed angry about this. “You’re so small.” He’d begun to look at her with a peculiar intensity, different from the other men’s, more … protective.
    “What concern is it of yours where I might be?” She shoved her braids from her forehead, lifting her chin. “And I’m not
that
small.”
    “You are”—he ran a hand over his face—“
young
.”
    Beside him, Brandr asked, “What is it, friend? Your eyes grow fierce.”
    Aidan opened his mouth, closed it. Then he gazed around the scene as if seeing it anew. “Gods.” He reached for her with a hand raised, as if to shield her vision. “Come with me, little one. ’Tis no place for you.”
    She backed up a step.
    He cast her a disapproving frown. “I have pledged my life to serve your father; you were born of his lightning.I could no more harm you than I could myself.” When she relaxed not one whit, he said, “Come. You must be hungry. You can dine in my quarters.” He gathered her sword, offering it to her hilt first. “There will be plenty to eat.”
    They
would
have plenty of food. His army had scavenged this countryside like locusts. All the game that she could have hunted had been slain.
    She peered up, regarding his face. The mortal did seem to have an honest visage. And mayhap he’d do as she bade, or at least give her a horse and enough food for her journey.
    Regin accepted her sword, sheathing it. But when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders protectively, she stiffened. “I can walk on my own, berserker.”
    Under his breath, he said, “’Tis a display of favor I offer you before all.”
    “A display of favor,” she said in a dry tone. “From a
mortal
. Then how can I possibly continue without it?” She allowed him to usher her through the crowds of staring warriors and wenches.
    A few berserkers sought to touch her “fair locks” or “alight skin,” but Aidan’s hand tightened over her shoulder, his eyes blazing even brighter. He cast the men a baleful look and they all retreated without another word, their faces paling.
    Once she and Aidan had navigated the hall’s gauntlet and exited into the summer night, he visibly relaxed, though he still seemed preoccupied. She took the opportunity to study him up close.
    His towering frame was even more imposing, hisheight at least six and a half feet. His white tunic was of a fine weave, fitted over those wide shoulders. Black trews of soft leather outlined his powerful legs. When a breeze blew up from the valley below, carrying the scent of summer wheat and stirring the blond hair around his face, she had the urge to sigh.
    The midnight sun had finally set, and as they walked, he gazed up at the stars, as if for some kind of guidance. For the last week, as she’d searched for Lucia in this strange world of mortals, she’d often done the same. “Whatever is your question, warlord, the stars will not