‘Is everything ready?’
If she had been hoping a great flood had swept the guests far out to sea she was disappointed. ‘You never saw the like! Queen Laithlin brought miles of white hangings with her, and the Hall of Whispers is all garlanded with autumn flowers and carpeted with autumn leaves. The statue of the One God lost its head and’ll soon lose its body and the Tall Gods back in charge where they belong. Say what you will about Grandfather Yarvi, he’s a man who gets things done.’
Skara puffed out her cheeks. ‘Grandfather Yarvi, now.’
‘Lot of people climbed up a way lately.’
‘Climbed up a hill of corpses.’ She adjusted the chain of pommels around her neck, Bright Yilling’s diamond flashing on her breastbone. ‘And none higher than me.’
Jenner was hardly listening. ‘Folk have come from all across the Shattered Sea. From Gettland and Throvenland and Vansterland. From Inglefold and the Lowlands and the Islands. Shends and Banyas and the gods know where some of ’em hale from for I surely don’t. I even saw some emissaries from Catalia, set out to speak to the High King and found there’s a new one since they left.’
‘How is the mood?’
‘There’s many raw wounds still, and always those who tend towards the sour, but mostly folk are happy Mother War’s folding her wings and Father Peace is smiling again. There are plenty who despise Gorm, plenty more who mistrust Yarvi, but the love for you goes a long way.’
‘For me?’
‘Your fame’s spread far and wide! The warrior-queen who fought for her land when there was no one else! The woman who laid Bright Yilling low but gave him succour as he died. Majesty and mercy combined, I heard. Ashenleer come again.’
Skara blinked at herself in the mirror. She remembered no succour between her and Yilling. Only that pouch of papers. She gave an acid burp, pressed her hand to her guts and wondered if Ashenleer had been plagued with fears in the stomach. ‘The truth and the songs rarely sit close together, do they?’ she muttered.
‘Not even in the same hall, but truth-telling isn’t what skalds are hired for.’ There was a pause, and Blue Jenner looked up at her from under his brows. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
She was very, very far from sure, but she did not need his doubts heaped on her own. ‘I made a deal. I cannot turn back even if I wanted to.’
‘But do you want to? Maybe there are worse men than the Breaker of Swords, but I think I know you, my queen. If you could pick anyone, I doubt he’s the husband you’d choose …’
Skara swallowed. The girl she had been before the flames took her grandfather’s hall might have longed to make a different choice. The girl who had pressed herself tight against Raith in the darkness, too. But she was not a girl any more.
She lifted her chin and regarded her advisor through narrowed eyes. She made herself look sure. ‘Then you do not know me as well as you think, Blue Jenner. Grom-gil-Gorm shall be made High King today. He is the most famed warrior about the Shattered Sea. An alliance between Vansterland and Throvenland will make us strong, and our people strong, and never again will men bring fire to Yaletoft in the night!’ She realized she was shouting, and forced her voice down. Forced her heart to be silent, and spoke with her head. ‘Gorm is the husband I would choose. The husband I have chosen.’
Blue Jenner looked down at his boots. ‘I never meant to doubt you—’
‘I know what you meant.’ Skara put her hand gently on his shoulder, and his eyes came up to hers, a little dewy. ‘You stood for me when no one else did, and I know you still stand for me. I pray you always will. But this is my duty. I will not turn from it.’ She could not. However much it hurt.
Blue Jenner gave that gap-toothed smile she had come to love, his weathered face filling with happy creases. ‘Then let’s get you married.’
They both turned as the door banged open. Mother Owd stood staring, her new robe too long and somewhat tangled with her feet, her chest heaving and a sheen of sweat on her pale forehead. One needed no great mind to see she was weighed down by heavy news.
‘Out with it,’ snapped Skara, sick tickling at the back of her throat.
‘My queen …’ Mother Owd swallowed, eyes round in her round face. ‘Grom-gil-Gorm is dead.’
Changing the World
‘I know it was you!’ snarled Mother Scaer, her rage filling the Hall of Whispers to the top, echoing back so savagely Koll hunched into his shoulders, ‘or that bitch of yours—’