Part of me had feared that Snorri would be furious that I’d disobeyed him. Instead, he was elated that it had been me who’d set fire to the ships, seeing it as proof of the veracity of the seer’s foretelling. That Bjorn had been as much behind the fires as I went in one of Snorri’s ears and out the other, and I was half tempted to tell him that I’d be a corpse floating on the fjord if not for his son.
But Ylva’s eyes dissected me with every word, so I bit my tongue, knowing that if she suspected anything lay between me and Bjorn she’d make both of us pay, one way or another. Better to say nothing, which was easy, given that it was no moment for celebration. Victorious or not, buildings in Halsar still burned, dozens of corpses cooled on the ground, and many more screamed and cried from injuries.
At least a dozen men were brought to the great hall with injuries so catastrophic, it seemed a miracle they were still breathing, and if not for Liv’s magic, they’d have gone to Valhalla before dawn lit the sky.
But not even the healer could do anything for the dead.
Eighteen lives lost, I’d heard the servants whisper as I did what I could to help those not mortally injured, cleansing wounds and wrapping them tight with bandages. Most of them were warriors, but not all. A fact I had to face as I joined the procession down to the beach the following morning. Four pyres sat unlit, and as I set my eyes on the faces of the deceased, my chest tightened so painfully I could hardly breathe. Gnut’s men hadn’t just slaughtered those who’d opposed them, they’d slaughtered those they’d found sleeping in their beds. The very old. And the very young.
Logically, I knew the death toll would’ve been much higher if I hadn’t given the early warning, yet it still felt like a failure. Hlin had granted me magic so that I might provide protection, and while my actions had helped end the battle, it had been too late for many. And I hated that. Hated that these people had died because men like Gnut and Snorri valued my life—or death—more than anything else.
Standing next to Ylva and Snorri, I toyed with the hilt of my father’s sword, which I had kept. Snorri had said nothing about its absence, nor even seemed to notice that I had a weapon belted to my waist at all. Together, we watched an ancient woman conduct the rituals, the pyres piled with offerings, those watching either weeping or stone-faced. It wasn’t long until the flames burned high, dark smoke rising into the clear sky and the scent of charring hair and flesh filling my nose. Snorri had ensured that all knew I’d lit the ships on fire, downplaying Bjorn’s involvement, but I didn’t fail to notice that many still cast dark gazes full of blame my way.
Discomfited, I looked away and my gaze locked on a hooded figure walking slowly down the waterline, obscured by haze. At first I thought it was only the smoke from the pyres. But as I watched, I realized the smoke was coming from the individual. Not just smoke, but bits of ember and ash, as though the individual were aflame.
“Ylva.” I caught hold of her arm. “Look at that person. They’re…”
My words trailed away, for the individual was gone.
“Who?” Ylva demanded, following my gaze, which led to the empty beach.
“There was a hooded figure walking,” I said. “They…they looked as though they were burning, but I don’t know where they went.”
Ylva made a noise of annoyance. “Silence your tongue, girl. These people died for you—show them some respect.”
My anger flared, because while Gnut might have come to kill me, I wasn’t alone at fault. As guilty as I felt for the deaths and injuries, it still frustrated me that it was not their jarl the people held accountable, for he had failed to protect them despite knowing the threat. Yet none of that seemed to matter, for more and more people cast dark glares in my direction, their bodies tense with anger.
Only for every single one of them to abruptly turn back to the pyres as a wave of heat warmed the back of my neck.
Bjorn stood behind me and to my right, his axe ablaze in one hand, the flat of the blade resting against his bare forearm as though it were made of no more than steel. It was the first time I’d seen him since he’d told Snorri that I was responsible for the drakkar fires, and though I had more pressing concerns, my foolish mind instantly went to the moment on the beach when he’d held me against the cold. A good reminder of why I needed to stay as far away from him as I could.
“Where were you, Bjorn?” Snorri muttered. “You were supposed to light the pyres. You dishonor the dead in your absence.”
“I slept late.” Though there was nothing in his expression or tone to suggest he spoke anything other than the truth, I sensed he was lying. Why?
Snorri’s frown deepened but before he could respond, I said, “There would be thrice their number if not for Bjorn’s actions. The dead know that. As should the living.”
Snorri gave a soft snort, turning back to the pyres, the smoke now rising in a tower that seemed to touch the clouds above. “Tonight we feast to honor the dead,” he roared. “Tomorrow, we make plans for our revenge against Jarl Gnut!”
The people of Halsar howled their approval, warriors lifting their weapons into the air, but as I turned to follow Ylva and Snorri back to the great hall, I still felt the prickle of ill will directed at my back.
“I would speak to you, Freya,” Snorri said as we approached the building. “And you as well, Bjorn.”
My heart skittered with the sudden terror that someone had seen me and Bjorn on the beach or, worse, into my lustful heart, but Bjorn appeared unconcerned. Nodding, he extinguished his axe and strode through the doors into the great hall.
The injured were still being tended, and we walked past the rows of quiet forms and behind the large chairs on the dais before Snorri paused. “We must discuss your actions last night, Freya.”
I held my breath even as Ylva, who’d been silent, snarled, “What must be discussed is her punishment. She defied your orders. Have her beaten for her actions lest she defy you again. She’s supposed to be under your control, but last night demonstrated that she needs a tighter leash.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but Bjorn beat me to it. “If anyone is to be beaten for failing my father’s orders, it’s you, Ylva.”
Wouldn’t that be an interesting turn of events, I thought even as Ylva glared at Bjorn, her eyes bright with anger. “As always, you speak out of turn.”
“I speak the truth,” Bjorn said with a laugh. “My father did not order Freya to remain in the great hall, he ordered you to keep her here. Which you failed to do. Not because she overwhelmed your every attempt to heed your husband’s commands, but, by all accounts, because you failed to notice your shield maiden climbing into the rafters. You should be punished lest your attention wander again.”
“Bjorn…” Snorri’s voice dripped with warning, and indeed, I wanted to kick him in the shins, because all he was accomplishing was making tensions between me and Ylva worse.
“I speak only the truth that has been repeated by all who were here last night,” Bjorn said. “You should be rewarding Freya for following her instincts, else Halsar, and most of its people, would be ash. And Ylva, you should be on your knees thanking her for twisting the threads of fate, else you’d be the cause of all that death.”
If I hadn’t been dripping sweat from the anxiety currently twisting my stomach into ropes, I’d have laughed as Ylva’s eyes widened with outrage.
Snorri rubbed at his temples. “You’ve made your point, Bjorn. As it is, I’ve no intention of beating anyone. Hlin warned us and we failed to take appropriate precaution. I don’t intend to make the mistake of ignoring what else she revealed.”
Bjorn’s face blanched as understanding took hold. “I told you I wouldn’t—”
“Your fate is entwined with Freya’s,” Snorri interrupted. “You are destined to use your strength and skills to protect her. But more than that, you must use them to teach her.”
“I—”
“Freya has proven the gods favor her,” Snorri said. “Yet the people grieve, blaming her for last night’s raid. Some might go so far as to seek vengeance upon her, which you must protect her against. You must also help turn her into a warrior they see as worth following.”
“I know nothing of teaching someone how to fight,” Bjorn snapped. “This is—”
“These are the reasons I asked you here, Bjorn,” Snorri continued. “Not to enjoy the sound of your voice, but because I would have you make her ready. I would have you, my son and heir, make a warrior of our shield maiden. I would have you teach her to fight in a shield wall. And”—he looked between the two of us—“because Hlin foresaw that it would be you who will keep her safe, you will remain at her side, day and night, until she has fulfilled her destiny.”
Bjorn’s green eyes darkened, his hands balled into fists. “This is not my destiny.”
The last vestiges of Snorri’s patience evaporated. “You are my son. You will abide or you will leave. Am I understood?”
For a heartbeat, I thought Bjorn would walk out, and a shocking stab of pain lanced through me. But he only clenched his teeth, the “Fine” that exited between them more growl than word. “Might I have one more night of freedom before you bind me to her?”
“One night,” Snorri snapped. “But at dawn, you will join Freya and never leave her side.”
I closed my eyes, silently cursing the gods for giving me what I wanted even as they took it away.
