Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

about each woman. She had, and of the women in his line, too.
    He still had not been to Hannasvik, though Annika had visited twice since they’d returned to Smoke Cove to begin work with Paolo—the last time returning with Senhorita Neves and her nurse, who had decided that the small fishing town was more to their taste than the isolated Hannasvik. Perhaps emboldened by their time there, or simply tired of hiding, they lived openly together—not flaunting their relationship, but not concealing it, either. Simply living. A month later, Lisbet had joined Källa at the station house—and then moved in with Valdís twice, after two loud public rows.
    So far, none of the locals had spoken out against either of the couples. Some of them, Annika was certain, enjoyed the lively fighting. Dooley had told her that several fishermen had placed bets on when Lisbet would return to the station house.
    However long it took, no one wagered that Lisbet would give up and go home again. Källa refused to, unless her son could go, too.
    Annika would have wagered everything she owned that would eventually happen. Sooner or later, she was certain that the women of Hannasvik would invite David and Olaf to the village. Several of the elders had already come to meet them. Naked or in skins, trolls had become a familiar sight in Smoke Cove.
    Already, her small world was changing. Annika didn’t know what would come of it, or how long it would remain peaceful, but such a fine start gave her endless hope.
    And for now, the rest of the world didn’t seem concerned about the goings-on in Iceland. Though word of Lorenzo’s whale and the horror at Heimaey had reached the New World, they’d not heard much about it. The newssheets that Vashon brought rarely mentioned either di Fiore, but were filled with news of the civil war brewing in Castile, where small groups of rebels had carried out devastating attacks against the queen’s police.
    Annika still wished that she’d been brave enough to give over a few coins—but was so, so glad that she’d taken other risks. And she wasn’t sorry that any of it had led to this.
    She stopped the troll at the edge of a small clearing marked by a natural stone arch. Taking David’s hand, she led him up the gentle slope. A breeze stirred as they approached the ring of sixty stones, each one inscribed with a name. She knew where Hanna’s stone lay, but took the long way around, pointed out Jane’s.
    “This is where mine will be buried.” She paused, frowned. “I suppose our children’s, too. The line has always passed through the mother—though if they wish it, they could choose Hanna’s, since that is your line.”
    “I don’t care what they choose,” he said gruffly. “If God has any pity at all, I’ll be dead before a single one of those runes is buried, and I’ll never know where they lie.”
    Annika hoped that the gods would have pity on her, too—she felt exactly the same way.
    She led him on, stopped in front of Hanna’s stone. The black soil at its base was soft, with tender shoots of grass poking through.
    “Here,” she said.
    His breath shuddered as he lifted the necklace over his head. He held the runes cupped in his palm, looking down at the ground. Moisture pooled in his eye. His throat worked, but he didn’t speak. Annika didn’t know if he could.
    When he looked to her, she drew the knife sheathed at her thigh, made a small cut on his thumb. “Place a drop of blood over each name before you bury them. Then speak your prayers and good-byes.”
    “What do I say?” His voice was hoarse.
    “Anything you like.”
    “There is too much.”
    “We’re in no hurry.”
    He crouched in front of the stone. Whatever he had to say, he didn’t speak it aloud. Tears dripped steadily down his cheek, soaked into the ground. After a while, he simply stared at the smallhole he’d dug in the soil without making a move to place the runes inside.
    “I’ve been wearing these for so long,” he said quietly. “I feel that when I bury them, she’ll truly be gone. I’ve waited to do this for twenty years. Now that I’m here, it’s hard to let her go.”
    “You aren’t letting her go. Everything that you said to her, everything you feel for her and remember about her, you’ll carry away with you.” Annika’s mother had told her the same when her grandmother had died—and it had been true.
    David nodded. With a deep breath, he pushed the runes into the soil and covered