“How long has it been since you slept?” Neve asked softly. “Really truly slept?”
“I don’t know.” Sif closed her eyes. “I don’t know, Neve. A long time ago, I think. Maybe too long. I feel so guilty, like this is my fault, like what happened to him is my fault. He didn’t have anything to prove to me. He proved himself a long time ago.” She took a deep breath and looked toward Neve. “It is my fault, Neve. How could I have done this to him?”
“You didn’t bring that lindworm here, Sif. This isn’t your fault. Hell, you rode to his rescue with the rest of them, didn’t you?”
Her friend uttered a strangled sob and turned away again. Neve reached for her arm, took it and squeezed.
“You can’t do this to yourself, Sif. You just can’t.”
“Too late,” Sif breathed, scrubbing angrily at her tearing eyes. “It’s too late. I’ve already done it.” She glared at the driving rain, at the roiling clouds above. “Wanderer promised me that all would be well. I think my lover’s out to make a liar of him.” Her hands curled into fists even as Neve’s fingers dug into the flesh of her arm. “That fool is going to die thinking I hate him. I don’t, Neve. I don’t.”
“I know you don’t,” Neve said, at a loss for what else to say, uncertain how to comfort the shield maiden—or if she even could. “I’m sure he knows, too, Sif, and he’s not going to die thinking you hate him. Add my promise to Phelan’s. You’re not going to lose him.” She slid her arm around Sif’s shoulders. “Come on. I’m putting you to bed. You need to rest. In the morning, maybe you’ll see things differently.”
“Doubtful,” she muttered, rubbing at her eyes again, but not resisting as Neve turned her away from the rain and started leading her back toward her cot. “But one must have hope. I want to look in on him one more time before I sleep, though.”
“Of course,” Neve whispered, altering course slightly. A few minutes looking in on him wouldn’t hurt, and if it let her get Sif into bed without a fight, all the better.
