“You’ll be a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield,” he breathed. “Steinunn has already begun her composition, and with her song, word of our strength will spread like wildfire. Soon all will swear oaths to me.”
“How?” I demanded. “How does my ability to protect myself in battle make such a huge difference?”
His eyes flared bright. “Because the seer told me it was so, which means the gods have seen it.”
Had seen me being used like a tool—and that sat poorly with me. “How can you be certain the seer meant you?”
His face darkened and I instantly regretted running my mouth; I was always saying the first things that came to my mind despite having suffered consequences for doing so time and again.
“Because the seer spoke the prophecy to Snorri, not anyone else, you idiot girl.” Ylva stepped around a hanging, coming toward us. “Disregard her ignorance, my love. She’s the daughter of a farmer. The wife of a fishmonger. This is probably the first time she’s been more than a few miles from the hovel her mother birthed her in.”
Every one of those things was true, but I still bristled at the implication that they made me ignorant or stupid. My parents had taught me the history of our people and the stories of the gods, but more than that, they’d taught me what I needed to survive. I opened my mouth to demand if she could claim as much, but before I could, Ylva said, “Once you are wed, Snorri will control your fate, because he will control you. Which is why the wedding will be today.”
Today? Gods…I swallowed my dismay even as I watched Snorri’s jaw tighten. “We should wait for Frigg’s Day so as to ensure the union is blessed,” he said.
Ylva huffed out a loud breath. “And risk someone else stealing her? You must claim her, husband. All of Skaland must know that the shield maiden is yours.”
As though I were a cow. Or a pig. Or worse, a brood mare, though given he had Bjorn for an heir, I doubted children were what he sought from me. Even if they were, there were ways other than lemons to prevent such things. But my skin still crawled at the thought of being bedded by this man.
Grit your teeth and bear it, I silently ordered myself. It’s not as though you’re some maid who has never been bedded. You endured Vragi. You can endure Snorri as well.
I had to, because my family depended on it.
Snorri exhaled a long breath, his gaze fixed on his wife. “This union is a slap to your face, my love. I wish there was another way, but the gods demand this of us.”
The declaration was unexpected, at least for me. I lowered my head, embarrassed to be caught in the midst of this conversation, for I sensed that Snorri’s sentiment was genuine.
Through my eyelashes, I watched Ylva’s face soften, and my discomfort grew as she drew toward her husband, kissing him passionately. My cheeks burned and I moved my gaze to the floor, fighting the desire to edge past them and escape this moment.
“You do this as much for me as for yourself.” Ylva’s voice was velvet soft. “It is only a matter of time until Harald crosses the strait, and we have not the strength to fight him. Skaland must be united, and it is the will of the gods that they will be united beneath your rule. It is a sacrifice to share your hand with another, but one I will gladly accept to protect our people from our enemies.”
My stomach twisted with unexpected guilt, because I’d not considered that either of them had a higher purpose.
“You are the greatest blessing the gods have bestowed upon me, Ylva,” Snorri murmured, and my cheeks heated as they embraced, their roaming hands suggesting that if not for my presence, they’d be ridding themselves of their clothing. That they might anyway, my presence be damned. So I dropped the shield.
The second it left my grip, the magic disappeared, and it landed with a loud clatter against the floor, the pair jerking apart.
“Apologies,” I murmured. “I seem not to have fully recovered my strength.”
Snorri snorted, not fooled by the lie. Yet he stepped back from Ylva even as he said to her, “Prepare for the feast, my love. And prepare Freya to be my bride.”
* * *
—
The servants descended like a horde of raiders, stripping me of my clothing and pushing me into a bath so hot, it nearly scalded my skin. Though I was hardly used to being bathed by others, that wasn’t what consumed my thoughts as I was scrubbed with soap and polished with sand until my skin was nearly raw. It was that in the space of a day, my entire life had been turned upside down, the gods giving and taking in equal measure.
Seers did not lie.
They had the blood of Odin himself, and they spoke with the knowledge of the gods, though their prophecy was rarely clear until the events they foretold came to pass. So if the seer spoke these words directly to Snorri, they were the truth, in some fashion. It was possible that Snorri was lying, but…my gut told me his fervor was genuine.
Because it explained why my father had ordered me to keep my magic secret.
Children of the gods were created when one of the gods gifted a child a drop of their divine blood upon conception. In some instances, the gods were active participants in the sex, but it was not necessary—they need only be present for the act of creation. Which meant that while some parents might suspect the third party of their tryst had gifted them a child with divine blood, some were entirely oblivious until the day the child’s magic appeared. The latter had been the case for me.
The truth had been revealed when I was seven and had shouted Hlin’s name while fighting with Geir. It was a game all children played despite it earning smacks from any adult in earshot for disrespecting the gods: Shout the name of one known to grant their blood and see if magic manifested. Geir and I had invoked Tyr and Thor and Freyja and countless other of the gods, but not once had I thought of Hlin. It had only been because the fight had gotten out of hand, my brother’s stick falling heavy on my tiny shield, that I’d grown desperate, calling the goddess’s name. The magic that came to my aid hadn’t thrown Geir the way it had Bjorn, but it had sent him sprawling.
And my father had witnessed it all.
Never in my life had I seen such a look of panic on his face as I did in that moment; the wideness of his eyes and the slackness of his open mouth were emblazoned on my memory. As was the way he had shaken me so hard my teeth rattled, his breath hot in my face as he shouted, “You never say her name again! Do you hear me? You never say her name!” Then he’d rounded on Geir, gripping my brother by the arms so hard it had left bruises. “You never tell anyone what happened this day! Your sister’s life depends on it!”
His reaction made more of an impact on me than the magic itself, and for a long time, fear of seeing my father angered had kept the goddess’s name from my lips and questions off my tongue. But time tempered my fear and fueled my curiosity. Children of the gods were rare, Vragi the only one I’d seen with my own eyes, but stories of deeds done by those with magic filled the air at every gathering. Those with god’s blood were fabled and honored, and I wanted to join their ranks. Wanted to fight in battles and have my victories sung about by skalds, but every time I gained the nerve to press my father about why my magic was to be hidden, he’d react with fury. Realizing that he’d give me no answers, it wasn’t long until I was sneaking out and experimenting, most often with Geir along with me.
Of course we got caught.
My father’s wrath had been a thing to behold, a terrible twist of anger and fear that no child wishes to see in their parent’s eyes as he’d again forbidden me to use my magic.