But the woman couldn’t prevent a longing glance over her shoulder.

For some reason, his dismissal of the buxom brunette gladdened Regin. She supposed she was merely relieved to have his full attention. “I saw you on the battlefield today, warlord. You fought well.” As ever, her thoughts left her lips without any mediation. Lucia’s words repeated in her mind: You have to learn to hold your tongue. You could try even a glacier’s patience.

He leaned forward. “Boy, we are berserkers—we all fight well.”

’Twas not true. She jerked her thumb at a young black-haired man to Aidan’s right. “Not him. His guard’s too low.” Hold your tongue, Regin!

After a stunned silence, a few awkward chuckles sounded. Even Aidan grinned, then seemed startled by his reaction.

The man she’d insulted shot to his feet and stalked closer, his green eyes narrowed. “I’ll show you a low guard.”

At once, Regin dragged her long sword from its sheath, raising it between them.

He gave her a look of disgust. “That sword’s bigger than you are, cur.”

“The better to teach you to raise your guard, mongrel.”

As more chuckles sounded, the man’s fists clenched, his muscles tensing, growing. … Already on the verge of berserkrage.

“Stay your hand, Brandr,” Aidan ordered.

Perhaps coming here was a mistake. These men were too violent and quick-tempered to aid her. And that was something for a Valkyrie to suppose!

Even Aidan, who had appeared to possess more control of himself than the others, now seemed to seethe with … something.

And though the berserkers were Wóden’s guards, perhaps they would hurt her if they found out she was female. What would Lucia do? She’d leave this place anon without revealing herself as a woman.

“Boy, you are either very brave or very stupid to goad one of my strongest warriors,” Aidan remarked. “Now, tell me why you’ve come to my hall.” He tilted his head at her. “And why you’ve covered your skin like an aged druid.”