Starting to panic, with doom in my gut, I entered the room first, ahead of Ivar by several feet and pulled out my knife. The sounds of cheerful celebrations were loud throughout the house, the drunks oblivious to the couple they were there to celebrate.

My heart pounding, I faced the curtain leading to the hall and pulled out the knife. I hid it behind my body.

Ivar entered. His eyes went to me, the bed, and to the trunk onto which I had tossed his cloak. Adrenaline flew threw my veins as I gave myself a mental pep talk about how stabbing a Viking – the village’s greatest warrior – wasn’t going to be as hard as I thought it would be. Ivar pulled off his bright vest and removed his boots.

“You have no skill with the knife you are holding. Or with killing,” he said without turning. “Or you would have ambushed me rather than waited.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His smile was faint. “Very well.” He faced me and took three steps towards me, pausing within reach. I could stab him, but he was waiting for it. A man this size, accustomed to battle, wasn’t going to let a little girl with a little knife hurt him.

Ivar held out his hand.

With a frustrated sigh, I placed the knife in his palm. I had another stashed and took a step back in that direction.

“I found the other one already,” Ivar said. “If you plan to murder a warrior, do not use a small knife.”

My breath caught in my throat.

I was going to die tonight. I could not see any other way, because I would never let this man touch me. With the different scenarios playing through my thoughts, my body chose the wrong time to cry.

Actually, I wept. I sank down onto the bed, sobbing. It wasn’t like me to turn into a blubbering mess instead of trying to think or fight my way out of a bad situation. Was my backbone gone after losing Batu? Did I just not care anymore?

Or … was this the hormonal mess Carter claimed meant I was pregnant? I definitely didn’t feel stable.

The massive Viking sank down beside me, quiet. I moved away, but he took my arm and kept me close to him.

I cried harder.

Ivar leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I won’t hurt you,” he said quietly.

I didn’t believe him at all. Carter wanted to torture me to death. Had I done something in the future to piss him off? To make him fixate on a slow, agonizing revenge?

Ivar was quiet, keeping me at his side while making no other attempt to touch me. I ran out of tears and sagged, awaiting the inevitable.

“You lost someone,” he spoke quietly. His green eyes fell to me.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“I did, too.” He paused. “My mother and uncle hoped it would change my shameful ways, turn me into the man they wish me to be.”

Not expecting the soul-felt words from a Viking whose people seemed to thrive on a code of ride-or-die, I listened.

“Neither of us wants this marriage,” he admitted. “But Asvald has decreed it is the will of Odin himself. My mother and uncle believe, if I do as they ask, I will be among those invited to Valhalla, for Odin rarely speaks of any warrior.” He fell quiet, gaze distant and eyes sad. “I cannot betray my beloved.”

“You must have loved her,” I said, startled by his display of sorrow, and just a tad hopeful.

He snorted. “Him.”

“Oh.” Oooohh. “You’re …” Would the word gay be translatable in this era? I sought another word. “You prefer men?”

“I preferred one man who died at battle. Perhaps he told Odin about me, and this is why Odin spoke to Asvald.” Ivar shook his head in amusement, as if knowing this weren’t the case.

“You won’t rape me,” I said before I could stop myself.

“I will never touch you as a man does a woman,” he said.

And suddenly I understood his problem, his mother’s joy at meeting me, and why Asvald was certain I’d be safe.

Relief flooded me.

“I do not know where Asvald found you, or if he used his magic to take your beloved from you?” Ivar studied me.

“He did not. The … gods or sprites or elves told him where to find me.”

“He is a peculiar man.” Ivar shook his head.

“His heart is good. He was very kind to me,” I replied. “He saved my life.”

“Perhaps he is not as peculiar as I have always thought.”

I smiled.

“You carrying a child will prevent others from knowing what I am,” Ivar said and glanced at my stomach. “I will give you a home, a father for your child, all the wealth I acquire. But I will never give you my heart.”

The pain I felt after losing Batu was clear on Ivar’s face.

“I can live with that,” I whispered. “You will never have my heart, either.”

More tears began, partially out of my own pain, and partially out of gratitude that I had somehow found the one Viking in history that was gay. Not only that, but the solemn pledge to protect me, as well as the child I could have been carrying, were not acts I expected from anyone in any era, with the exception of Batu.

Carter knew Ivar was gay, as did Asvald, which was how they both assured me I’d be safe.

“I am sorry,” I said. I hugged Ivar. “I will be the best pretend wife anyone has ever had.”

He laughed into my hair and returned the hug.

“I will keep your secret,” I voiced softly. “I promise.”

“You are not ashamed?”

“No,” I said. I pulled out of the hug and met his gaze. “What you feel for your beloved is no more shameful than what I feel for mine.”

“I wish others felt this way.”

I pitied the large Viking. I always did this – always let my compassion override my instinct to survive.

“Thank you for this,” Ivar added more quietly. “I do not bring shame upon my family. We do not lose my grandfather’s farm, and Freyr continues to bless our harvests. I please Odin,” he surmised. “My mother said you have no husband and no home. Your fate would have been worse than mine.”

Against all my doubts and fears, Carter had done it again – managed to find me a soft landing in a strange new world.

I hated him for that, too. I couldn’t just write him off as a sadistic psychopath when he tried to protect me through what means he had. Why did he torture me then bother to help me?

“We are both blessed,” I agreed. “I’m Josie by the way.”

Ivar’s features skewed at the unfamiliar name. “Yo-see,” he repeated. “What manner of name is this?”

“It’s … uh … very ancient. My ancestors’ … uh, spirits told my mother to name me this,” I said, hoping I’d strung a logical sentence out of Asvald’s ramblings.

“Benevolent family spirits command respect,” Ivar said. “It is good your mother obeyed them. Perhaps they will bring your child good fortune.”

I nodded.

“I know of your condition. If you are tired, rest,” he said and motioned to the bed. “I will sleep by the fire.”

“I’m not tired,” I replied. “We can talk more, if you’d like? I know nothing about you, and you know nothing about me.”

He smiled. “Very well. Tell me about your home, Yo-see.”

Ouch. He had to pick the one topic I didn’t know how to explain. After a moment, I began to tell him about the steppes, about Batu and the people who had accepted me as one of their own.

Ivar shifted to kneel on the ground and rested his arm on the bed, listening closely.

I cried when I told him I had lost Batu. Ivar smiled warmly, and I could see by the pain in his eyes he was reliving losing his lover, too.

We talked through most of the night, until I became too weary to sit up any longer. True to his word, Ivar stretched out by the fire and left me the bed. As I drifted into sleep, I couldn’t help thinking this was the best start to a time travel adventure yet.

How did Carter do this? Know exactly who to put in my path to protect me? How had he planned out everything with this level of precision?

I fell asleep baffled by this thought – and suspecting Carter was a greater genius than I had previously believed.

* * *

Are you talking to me today? Carter’s morning text was the first thing I saw.

I glanced towards Ivar, who slumbered by the fire. The sounds of merriment continued to come from the kitchen area of the house. How could anyone drink that long? I’d been on a binger once or twice, but it lasted maybe eight hours. From what I could tell, these people began drinking long before the ceremony.

You knew this guy was gay. I replied.

Smiley emoji, followed by an arrogant, I told you you’d be safe. Ivar is one of the best men I’ve ever known.

I re-read the note, not certain I’d understood it.

How did you meet him? I asked suspiciously. Is he a traveler?

Not yet, Carter answered.

He wasn’t going to say more. He never gave any answer but the one he wanted.

What am I doing here? I asked, irritated.

You’ll understand in time, Carter replied. You’ll be there six years.

Six years? I was staying here for six years?

Why so long? I typed, surprised by the length of time. I’d spent two weeks in the Old West and less than a year in the Mongol era.

Because of your health issue. Don’t you want to be stabilized?

I shook my head. You never do anything for my benefit, unless it benefits you.

Maybe it benefits me! Another smiley emoji.

Most of what Carter said never truly made sense, until one day, quite suddenly, it did. Would I really have to wait six years here to understand his intent? Was he working on a method or piece of technology to return me home?

I glanced towards Ivar. This was not the worst place to be. But it wasn’t on the steppes with Batu either.

Saddened by the thought of my Mongol warrior, I considered asking Carter about him. I didn’t feel remotely ready to learn his fate, to discover he had died of a broken heart or in battle or been murdered by the agency of time travelers Carter was always at odds with. I wasn’t brave enough to ask about Batu. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to handle the truth.

The reason behind the seemingly random length of time I’d be here wasn’t about me. Maybe Carter had found a place in history to hide me from his enemies. I didn’t buy his nonsense about leaving me here for my own good. If that were the case, he never would’ve taken me away from Batu, or subjected me to un-creating Taylor or to time travel at all.

How do you always know where to put me, who will protect me, what I’m going through? I typed the question I hadn’t been able to shake.

Before I had a chance to wait for Carter’s answer, the nausea hit. I flung the furs off and made it to the bucket by the fire seconds before throwing up my dinner.

Ivar awoke and sat. I felt his gaze but didn’t look up, not trusting my body. He brought me a wet rag. I had a feeling his mother had explained what I was going through, or he would have asked about it. Instead, he sat silently near me, watching in concern but not surprised.

When it passed, I sighed.

“My mother says if you are ill, then the baby is healthy,” he spoke.

I wasn’t convinced there was a baby. I’d be in denial until the alleged kid was born.

“Our family will be different,” he said with a smile.

Oddly enough, I didn’t mind him claiming me and the baby I wasn’t willing to admit existed. He would never be Batu – but he was a good man. I didn’t know many men in any era who would adopt a pregnant woman and offer to raise her child as his. Batu would. Taylor would. Ivar would.

I was starting to recognize a pattern among the protectors Carter assigned me, and I didn’t know if I liked it or not. Three dangerous men with hearts of gold, born centuries apart. As much as I appreciated being partnered or assigned to these three guardians, I was also keenly aware that Carter was always pulling the strings somehow. These men, however much I admired them, were direct evidence of Carter tampering with my life.

I had hurt Taylor and Batu.

What would Carter have me do to Ivar?

I didn’t want to think about it, not yet.

“Do you want a boy or girl?” I asked, wanting to take my mind off Carter and the future.

“Boy,” Ivar said without hesitation. “I can train him to fight alongside me.”

I could definitely see that. Batu had been large and muscular, a born warrior. If I were pregnant, our son would be just as fearsome. “If it is a girl, will you still train her?” I teased.

“I would train her harder to protect her family while I am away. My mother used to fight alongside my father, until she gave birth to my oldest brother. Then she became the defender of the family while my father was away. I once saw my mother fight off three raiders to protect me,” Ivar said seriously. “My daughter would be able to take the head off a grown man by the age of twelve.”

Despite the gruesome imagery, and reminder I once again lived in a violent society, I was able to appreciate the sentiment. I was at a disadvantage trying to survive anywhere without grocery stores and cars. No child of mine would suffer the same helplessness.

Batu should be the one to teach a son or daughter. This thought killed me. I sagged, at once hollow and filled with despair.

“You are thinking of him,” Ivar observed. “I understand that pain.”

“I know you do,” I replied. “We could not have been better paired.”

“Odin works in mysterious ways. When I heard my mother had arranged my marriage, I almost left,” he admitted. “I am happy I stayed.”

Batu had been sensitive and warm without being sweet, but Ivar … he was cotton candy with a bushy beard.

“You need air,” Ivar said. “Let us pretend to be happily wedded and go for a walk.” He helped me stand.

We changed clothing – he in one corner with his back to me and me in the opposite corner with my back to him. When we were ready, I held out my hand with a smile. Ivar took it, and we left his room together.

We were greeted by drunks throughout the house, most of who either shouted lewd comments about the wedding night or heaped blessings from the otherworld upon us. Ivar laughed, at ease with his people. I found myself smiling as well, less because I felt happy and more because the boisterous drunkards were fun to watch.

We managed to escape the well-wishers and walked into the chilly spring morning. Green trees were in stark contrast to the gorgeous blue sky and jagged peaks of mountains.

“It’s beautiful here,” I murmured, watching a large hawk circle above the road towards which we walked. “Your farm is beautiful, too.”

“My great, great, great grandfather saved all his gold and bought it then died the next week in a raid on a nearby village,” Ivar said with a smile. “I never wanted to farm, but I was not the oldest, and my father taught me while my two older brothers went off to raid.”

“Your mother says you’ll leave soon?” I asked. “To … uh … raid?”

“I will. The ice has broken across the shallows, and the sun has returned. The first expeditions will occur soon. My uncle and mother will care for the farm while I am gone for the summer,” he replied. “My mother will treat you as a daughter. She has not stopped thanking Freyja and Odin and every land sprite and benevolent family spirit who might be listening.”

I hadn’t asked Carter for a rundown of all these otherworldly creatures yet and made a mental note I needed to soon.

We walked to the docks, where I was able to see where I had arrived into this era. It wasn’t the open ocean I thought it was when I landed but a long fjord flanked by sheer cliffs topped with green. A small error on Carter’s part, and I could have ended up in the Arctic Circle.

“Asvald sent someone there to rescue me,” I said and pointed towards the far end of the fjord.

Ivar observed the area and the cliffs on either side. “How did you come to be there?” he asked curiously. “The cliffs are too high to jump from and the water too cold for you to have swam there.”

Shit. Ivar was sharp. I didn’t know him well enough to explain I’d come from a different time. “Maybe I flew,” I said and grinned, hoping to change the subject.

“You are different than any woman I have met.” Ivar was thoughtful. “It is possible.”

Fortunately, someone shouted a warm greeting from behind us. We both turned, and Ivar smiled broadly at the two drunken men staggering towards the king’s home at the center of the village.

“We should go,” Ivar said. “This is our celebration.” He slid his hand into mine once more, and we walked, comfortable with one another, back to the king’s home.

The next six days passed in a blur of activity. I somehow managed not to drink by appearing to drink and pouring my wine and mead out under the table or in corners or tossing it out open windows. The people around me were too drunk, too hung over, or too merry to care that I didn’t stagger around like everyone else. Ivar drank the days away, and I found I liked him drunk as well as sober. He stayed near me, as if he sensed what Asvald did: that I definitely wasn’t from around here and wasn’t too confident of my new surroundings.

Asvald was the only person I didn’t see at the celebrations after the ritualistic slaughter at the altar.

On the eighth morning, after the one-week celebration, I walked to town with Ivar and one of the docents. Ivar kissed me on the cheek before joining a group of men loading four longships and two knarr - the largest of their ships, meant for the longest journeys - with supplies for the voyage everyone assumed would happen soon. The slave went to purchase fish for the household, while I went to Asvald’s.

I knocked on the door and waited for him to open it. Hooded and hidden, he allowed me to enter and closed the door behind me.

“Why didn’t you come to my party?” I asked.

He lowered his hood with a small, crooked smile. “It was not my place.”

“All right.” I rolled my eyes. “Thora said you had herbs for me to pick up?”

Asvald nodded and went to his small workbench. He added several pouches to a bag – and then the Death Goblet.

“A gift for the mother of the groom,” he said, as if hearing my unasked question.

“Doesn’t this goblet always return to you?” I asked uneasily.

“It does. It will.”

“Asvald …” I drifted off. “Why would you poison Thora?”

He didn’t answer.

I stood beside him and placed a hand on his to stop their movement. He stilled.

“The vision said I had to. To protect you,” he answered quietly.

“From …”

“Anyone who could tell your secrets.”

I lifted my hand. “Asvald, you can’t hurt her for my sake.”

“I must. The vision was clear,” he said with rare firmness. “If I do not, she will tell someone, and your life – and that of your children – will be in danger.”

Children? I skipped over that part, not comfortable with the idea yet. “But who will help me? If I’m with child, and Thora is the only woman in the house, how can I do this alone?”

Asvald frowned.

“You know I’m not from around here,” I said carefully, uncertain what exactly this vision had revealed to him. “If you wish me to survive, I need help. I need someone who already knows my condition, and who can help me learn this world. There are more threats than Thora revealing my secret.” I held my breath. I would never be able to live with knowing another person would die because of me. I’d lost too many already.

His good eye fell to the goblet. “The vision … I cannot ignore it.”

“Did it tell you when you had to do this?” I asked.

“No,” he said, considering.

“Maybe you can wait until after the child is born.” Assuming that was even true. If anything, it’d give me a few months to figure out how to prevent Thora from being murdered.

“This may be wise,” he allowed. “The vision said you cannot survive here alone.”

If damn Carter hadn’t sent me back in time, I’d be surviving just fine at the local Starbucks.

“You must swear to me, if you discover she has revealed the information to anyone, you will tell me,” Asvald said, facing me.

“She has every reason in the world to keep this secret,” I replied. “Her sons’ lives and her own are at stake.”

“Swear it, Josie.”

I swallowed hard, hoping his vision was wrong. “I swear it,” I replied, knowing I had no intention of following through. “Why did you say children?”

He relaxed. “You will have twins. A boy and a girl.”

“Your vision told you this?”

“It did.”

The idea of having one child in an era without modern medicine or schools left me ill.

Two?

Tunnel vision formed. I wobbled on my feet, and leaned against the table. With surprising strength for a form as wiry as his, Asvald caught me before I hit the floor and helped me sit. I sagged, unable to fathom being a mother when I could barely survive the day. I wasn’t responsible enough to take care of someone else in any era!

Asvald waved pungent herbs beneath my nose. My head jerked up. That shit was enough to wake me and clear my sinuses. Concerned, he handed me broth with herbs.

“Are you well?” he asked, kneeling beside me.

“Yes. Just worried,” I said. I sipped the warm broth and breathed deeply as my head cleared. “I don’t know how I can do this.”

“You will have the greatest warrior in the village to protect you. And when he is on voyage, you will have me,” Asvald said kindly.

I couldn’t help liking him. He was earnest and gentle, a man who was much more than the outcast he appeared to be. In that moment, I begrudgingly admitted Carter had incredible people sense.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “No poisoning anyone else just yet!” I was half amazed, half horrified I had to remind anyone not to murder anyone else. Asvald’s streak was nothing like Batu’s, but the idea I had to remind them both not to kill someone else baffled me. That didn’t happen where I was from.

Asvald ducked his head with another shy almost-smile. Standing, he removed the cup from the sack and replaced it on his shelf.

I prayed Thora never revealed our secret. Not for my sake, or my fear of being cast out and eaten by bears and wolves, but for her own. Asvald was very much a part of his society, even if his people didn’t readily accept him. He would kill as easily as any warrior.

“You should go,” he advised. “People do not stay long.”

“They should.” I set the broth down and stood. “You are a very honorable person, Asvald.”

Pink stained one of the mystic’s cheeks. I picked up the sack and left.

Walking to the docks, I paused to watch the tough Viking warriors carry barrels and boxes and weapons onto the ships. Ivar waved, earning him teasing from those around him. I waved back with a smile.

Turning away, I began walking towards the small farm located outside of town. “I really hate you, Carter,” I muttered under my breath.

My thoughts went to Batu. For the billionth time since I arrived, I found myself looking around, peering into the forest and closely observing everyone who crossed my path in case Batu had found me somehow.

My heart hurt every time I realized he wasn’t there. I tried to rationalize it away by assuring myself he had plenty of time – six years, according to Carter. My Mongol warrior had always promised to find me, wherever I was. At the time, I hadn’t known he was a time traveler like me. When I looked back at that moment, I understood it with much more clarity than I originally had.

Tears warmed my eyes.

Batu would always find me, not because he knew where I was, but because he could go when I was. He had said he quit working for the agency opposing Carter, and Carter had coerced him into working for him. I didn’t know how those politics would play out, or if Carter would help Batu find me again. It wasn’t the kind of question Carter would answer.

In any case, I wasn’t giving up hope Batu would one day find me. Until then, I had a gay Viking and shy mystic as my companions.

I wiped my eyes and returned to the farmhouse.

The home was in constant motion, from constant cooking and cleaning to those who worked on looms and darned clothing to the little boys tending the sheep and livestock. The docents also took turns milking sheep and goats, making butter, setting cheese wheels, checking the progress of fermented mead, and preparing the huge meals the family ate twice a day. Thora often went out hunting with her brother, which surprised me, but not as much as witnessing the middle-aged woman carry a full-grown boar over her shoulder. The women of this era were hardy and tough and routinely shared duties I’d considered men’s work.

Thus far, I had been spared any real work and guessed it was part of my honeymoon phase with the family. As long as I wasn’t supposed to slaughter any animals for dinner, I was confident I could contribute with chores.