Rachel’s body tingled with Kolbjorn’s heavy arms around her, his chest rising and falling peacefully against her back. Her muscles felt soft, as if they had been soaked in warm chocolate. Tears welled in her eyes, and one crawled down her cheek.

This would be the only tear she’d allow herself.

Emotions battled inside her body. The tears were of happiness, of joy, of the intensity of the world-shattering, deep physical connection with the first man she’d fallen in love with.

But also of loss.

Because she was about to betray him.

Kolbjorn was asleep, the storm was over. She would go to save her mother, and also to prevent Kolbjorn from shattering her heart into a million pieces.

She was not terrified of death. But she had barely recovered when her father left, and now she was in danger of losing her mother. Losing Kolbjorn would be the end of her soul. And that was what would happen when he abandoned her, sacrificed her, to please his father. He didn’t see any other alternative—he’d made that clear enough.

Rachel wiped her tears and gently kissed his strong arm, which was wrapped around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed, and inch by inch she slid from underneath him until her feet were on the floor. She pulled on her shoes and slid her cloak over the dress she was still wearing.

Something creaked outside of the house. It must have been the wind. Perhaps another storm was coming. Daylight seeped through the roof patchwork, only a couple of hours must have passed since Kolbjorn had tried to open the door. She needed to hurry to get back home before the kidney went to someone else.

Rachel sank to the floor and, with trembling hands, opened Kolbjorn’s belt pouch and fished out the necklace. She left the sapphires so that he would not go back to his father empty-handed.

A soft thump against the wall made her freeze and glance in that direction, but nothing followed. It must have been a tree branch in the wind. Kolbjorn continued to wheeze sweetly in his sleep. Rachel would love to crawl back onto the sleeping bench with him and huddle against the warmth of his big body, but it was impossible.

She threw a last glance at him, wishing she had a camera inside of her eyes to forever have his image imprinted in her psyche. She had been serious about coming back and bringing him stuff, but since he did not want her to, since he was still determined to take her to his father, she could not risk it.

She had to leave.

Without a sound, she walked towards the door and pulled it, but it did not move. Strange. She’d expected the snow to fall in. Was it stuck because of the ice? She pulled it harder, but no result.

Then she heard something.

Voices from outside. Another thump against the wall from the opposite side. And another one from a third side.

Rachel pulled the door frantically. It felt as if it was blocked from outside.

Then the scent of burning reached her nose, and she saw a line of flame flick through the planks in the walls. Horror struck her like a brick.

Rachel flew to Kolbjorn and shook him. “Kolbjorn, wake up!”

He opened his eyes.

“The hut is burning!” Through panic, her lips could not move fast enough. “What are we going to do? The door is jammed!”

But Kolbjorn looked calm. His eyebrows knit together, he glanced around the room, estimating the situation. Then his gaze lingered on her and went as cold as ice. He quickly dressed.

“You were leaving.” The steel in his voice made Rachel cringe. He looked in his belt purse. “Gone. Of course.”

Rachel’s blood turned to ice. Not because she was afraid of the threat in his voice. Not because she was inside a burning house with no way out.

But because she’d stepped over the line. There would be no way back. The last bloom of hope died.

“You won’t change,” he said, disappointment in his voice slashing at her like a knife. “So I won’t change, either.”

With one swift movement, he grabbed her purse and cut its straps with his ax. She clawed at his hands while he rummaged. But he just slapped her hands away like flies, found the necklace and put it back in his bag.

Rachel watched this as if she was in a slow-motion horror movie. She had now lost everything. The necklace, the chance to save her mother, the last thread of hope to be loved by Kolbjorn, and she was about to lose her life in the fire, too.

Horror gripped her heart. Her arms and legs felt weak, as if turned to jelly. Her lungs hurt.

Kolbjorn, however, seemed unmoved and looked collected. He walked to the door and tried to open it, jerking it with all his force. But it was clear now that something far stronger held it from the outside.

Gray smoke started swirling through the tiny slits between the wall planks, and Kolbjorn coughed.

He took the dirty rag from the makeshift pharmacy, soaked it in melted ice water from a bucket in the corner, and gave it to Rachel. “Cover your mouth and nose and breathe through it. Don’t you dare say anything about the dirt.”

Rachel nodded, numb from the shock and the feeling of loss. She did as he said—she knew in a far corner of her mind that he was right, that breathing through wet cloth helped to not suffocate from the carbon. But he didn’t have anything for himself.

The fact that he put her wellbeing before his own melted her heart.

“We must get out.” He studied the patched roof that they had worked so hard on.

“Are you thinking—”

“Yes. It’s our only chance.”

He stood on the same stool he had used to repair the roof just a few hours ago, except now he was removing the planks. How ironic was that.

The fire roared behind the walls around them, the smoke thickened, and Kolbjorn began coughing more. What was she doing standing like a statue? She had to help him. Rachel shook off the shock, looked for the woodcutting ax that she had made the nails with and found it behind the firewood stash. Shifting the table towards Kolbjorn, she stood on it.

Then she tied the rag behind her head so that she could use both her hands. Either she or Kolbjorn had to be all right in case the other one lost consciousness.

“What are you doing?” Kolbjorn coughed.

He’d managed to hack through the first flitch, and snow fell through the gap, fresh air rushing into the hut.

“Helping you. What does it look like?” Rachel continued hacking.

The work was harder than she had thought, but little by little, she managed to remove the second flitch while Kolbjorn got to the third. It was getting warmer in the room, and Rachel began to sweat.

Kolbjorn was coughing non-stop now, and she was afraid that he’d burned his lungs from inhaling too much smoke. But more fresh air came in as the gap grew larger, and soon it was big enough for them to get out.

Kolbjorn stood on the table and put Rachel on his shoulders, helping her to get onto the roof. The walls were burning, but the roof was completely untouched—a thick layer of snow covered it in soft drifts. She turned and gave Kolbjorn a hand to get out.

When Kolbjorn stood by her side, Rachel looked around. By the door, through the thick gray smoke, she saw people.

Kolbjorn said, “I’ll go first, then I’ll catch you,” and jumped down into the snow, a lot of which had already melted from the heat of the fire.

Rachel first threw the ax into the snow, then jumped. Her breath caught, but the hut wasn’t tall. And when the heat biting at her skin was left behind, and Kolbjorn’s steady hands caught her, she finally exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“There are people—”

“I know. My father’s legitimate sons. The man who tried to kill me at the jeweler’s is the eldest of my half-brothers, and he must have seen what direction I went. I can only imagine what lies they told my father.”

Rachel swallowed a hard knot.

“Okay, they did not see us, let’s go.”

“Oh, I am not running. Stay back. This is between me and them.”