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She honestly didn’t know.

The thought terrified her, twisting in the pit of her stomach. Even one night could make the difference between Brad living and dying. Was she so selfish, so ready to risk Brad’s life to be with Andor? It had already been a week longer than Eric had given her before he planned to take measures to cut off Brad’s life support.

Just one night, please. Just please, stay alive a little longer.

And if she got back tomorrow and discovered that he was gone, she’d need to live with the guilt for the rest of her life. But one last night with Andor was worth it. In this moment, there was no force in the universe strong enough to make her leave him. Going now would be like cutting out a part of her heart.

When they entered, a squall of laughter thundered around them. A group of men sat drinking and eating around a fire in the long hearth that occupied the middle of the room. A couple of female servants carried food and drinks, cleaned and bustled about the space.

“What is there to laugh about without me?” Andor rumbled, and they looked at him, silent.

An older but muscular man with white hair and an equally snowy beard was especially touched. His eyes widened, and he stiffened but then walked towards Andor like a wooden figure on unbending legs.

He grasped Andor’s shoulders with both of his hands. “You are alive, thank Odin,” he whispered and pulled Andor into a bear hug.

“Fridstein, you old sea dog,” Andor responded warmly and clapped the man on his back loudly. The others came rushing, and each had his own share of claps and hugs, and Cathy found herself smiling from ear to ear. Warmth spread in her chest from seeing Andor so well loved and accepted within his community. She had never felt that back in LA, not even in her yoga community. The only person who had ever given her that feeling was Brad.

Brad.

The warmth inside her was replaced with a stab of guilt. She owed it to him to get back and to see that he got the best chance he could to live.

“How did you survive, you lucky mountain troll?” Fridstein said.

Andor glanced at Cathy, his eyes a warm liquid indigo in the semidarkness of the room. “She was the one who saved me,” Andor said, and his words turned her insides into hot lava, melting her hips and knees, filling her feet with lead, welding them to the ground.

They all looked at her.

“Is that a woman?” asked Fridstein.

Cathy removed the cap. She supposed she did not need it.

“A shield-maiden?” Fridstein said, looking her over again with sharper eyes.

“A shield-maiden,” Andor said.

“My name is Cathy.” She stretched her hand out for Fridstein to shake, but he looked at it as though she was giving him her foot. She withdrew the hand and bowed curtly instead, not sure if she was doing the right thing. “Pleased to meet you.”

One corner of Fridstein’s mouth curled up. “Pleasure is mine, maiden,” he said. “Look at you. You are almost as tall as our Andor.”

There was a hint of pride and approval in his voice, and the warm feeling inside Cathy’s chest returned. He exchanged a glance with Andor, whose jaw tightened.

“Cannot imagine anyone better to save his arse. Looks like you can hold your own, Cathy.”

The rest of the men grunted in approval.

“She is tired,” Andor said, taking Cathy’s arm and leading her to the other end of the house.

“Wait, let us drink with her. Cathy, stay, tell us about yourself,” Fridstein called after her, but Andor dragged her so fast she didn’t even have a chance to respond. She’d love to stay and talk to them; they seemed to have accepted her so warmly.

Andor took her through a thin door into what looked like a bedroom. There was a wooden double bed with a beautifully carved headboard. The bed was full of furs, the walls covered with swords and axes and shields. Behind them a door opened, and two servant women came in, one with a bucket, another with firewood.

“Hot coals for your hearth, Jarl,” she said and put the coals into the round hearth standing in the middle of the room. “The bathhouse will be ready soon.”

The other one added the firewood, then both retreated, throwing curious glances at Cathy. The room began filling with warm firelight. Cathy should have rejoiced that she would finally sleep in a warm room, in a bed, under a roof, but her mouth went dry as her eyes met Andor’s dark, predatory ones. The air disappeared from the room.

“I—” she said. “I wanted to talk to your friends. They seemed nice.”

They were the opposite of Brad’s friends. They seemed to approve of her even before they talked to her. How crazy was that?