I bit the insides of my cheeks. Not only did Snorri wish to become king of our people, but he also intended to wield Skaland like a weapon against the man whom he seemed to blame for delaying his destiny.
My pulse raced as visions of sailing across the strait to make war against Nordeland filled my eyes, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Part of me reveled in the idea of striking back against the man who’d kept Bjorn from his family to achieve his own ends.
But another part of me remembered how Bjorn had spoken of the kindness of the Nordelanders to him while he was a prisoner.
I glanced sideways at Bjorn, whose eyes were fixed on the ground rather than on the arguing men. Do something, I willed him. Say something.
But he barely seemed to be aware of the argument before him.
My anger flared to life because I hated seeing him behave this way, so entirely not himself. Being in the presence of the man who’d kept him prisoner should have him raging, but instead he was utterly still, eyes lowered. My anger found its way to my tongue. “Any man who uses a child to hide from battle is a coward who will never see Valhalla. It will be Hel who takes you in death, King.”
No sooner had the words been spoken than the ground beneath our feet quivered. Everyone in the hall started in alarm, except for Snorri, who laughed. “You see?” he said. “The gods are watching her and show their favor.”
“Indeed,” Harald replied. “She is even more formidable than I’d anticipated.” Stepping sideways out of our path, he added, “I will not stand between you and the gods, old friend.”
Snorri snorted, then caught hold of my arm and hauled me forward, everyone else following at our heels, including Bjorn. Yet once we’d all passed, Harald called out, “Bjorn. What befell Ragnhild?”
At mention of the spy, Bjorn stopped in his tracks and turned back. “She’s dead, although I suspect you know that.”
Harald inclined his head in agreement. “Who killed her?”
Silence.
“What difference does it make?” Snorri demanded, stepping between Bjorn and Harald. “She spied on me and suffered the consequences.”
“No difference.” Harald lifted one shoulder, his gaze meeting mine. “Though yours was the last face she saw, Freya, and she died because of it. Come, Tora.”
Without another word, the king of Nordeland and the tall woman left the hall, leaving us alone with the statues of the gods.
“Harald is not our current concern,” Ylva said, shoving Snorri in the opposite direction. “Nor an immediate threat.”
“The woman with him is Tora, child of Thor,” he answered. “And he’ll have Skade with him as well, both of them deadly.”
I had no notion of who this Skade might be, but a child of Thor could call lightning, and that was terrifying enough.
If Ylva felt the same, she didn’t show it, only said, “Neither can use their magic within Fjalltindr, so they are an obstacle for a later hour. We must do what we came for. All your vows of war will mean nothing if Freya does not make her sacrifice and the gods turn on her for her failure.”
Snorri resisted, his eyes fixed on the door Harald had exited, but then he growled and extracted a handful of silver coins from his pocket, which he pressed into my hands. “Ask the gods for their favor.”
Ask them yourself was what I wanted to say, but instead I nodded and stepped toward the statues.
The hall had no floor, only raw bedrock through which a stream flowed, its branches creating islands on which statues sat. Piles of offerings rested at each god’s feet, and I stepped across the water to set a silver coin beneath Njord’s likeness.
Njord, I ask your forgiveness for…I hesitated, memories washing over me. Not memories of the way Vragi had treated me, but rather memories of how he’d used the magic Njord’s blood had gifted him. Remembered the whale he beached over and over again for sport. Remembered all the fish that had not filled bellies but rotted on beaches for his carelessness. He dishonored your gift.
I set another coin at the feet of the goddess I’d been named for, immediately thinking of my brother. Freyja, please grant Geir and Ingrid love and happiness. And many babies, I added, knowing that this was Ingrid’s wish.
With Bjorn, Snorri, and Ylva at my heels, I went from god to god, giving my offering and asking for the gods to favor those I loved. Those I knew to be in need. Those I knew to be deserving.
When I reached Loki, it was me I thought of. Loki was the trickster, his children gifted with his ability to transform themselves into the shapes of others to achieve their ends. Deceivers asked for his favor.
And with all the lies I was telling, I was a deceiver of the first order.
Loki, please…I trailed off, unwilling to ask him to grant me a liar’s tongue to better keep my deceptions alive, because while that was the role I had to play, it was not who I was in my heart. So instead I asked for nothing, only set a coin at his feet.
As I turned to the last god, the Allfather Odin, I heard Snorri say, “I can keep silent no more, Bjorn.”
No one had spoken while I’d given my offerings, so I slowed my step, curious about what Snorri might say while he thought me distracted.
“Why did you just stand there? Harald denied Skaland its king by keeping you his prisoner, and while I voiced the promise of vengeance, you cowered like a beaten dog.”
Anger flamed to life in my chest, but I bit my lip and kept silent.
“It was either do nothing or commit murder on the grounds of Fjalltindr,” Bjorn answered. “Be glad I checked my violence, Father.”
Snorri snorted, seemingly unconvinced. “Act like the weapon you are. Put fear into the hearts of our enemies. Be worthy of Tyr’s fire.”
Snap back, I willed Bjorn. Put him in his place. But he only said, “Yes, Father.”
Scowling, I stepped over the pooled water to place a coin at Odin’s feet. “Odin,” I whispered. Allfather, if it is your will, please see Bjorn released from the burden of his past so that he might fight those who deserve his vengeance. Accept this offering on his behalf.
A shiver passed over me, my skin prickling. But the sensation quickly passed, leaving me suddenly drained. I’d barely slept in days, climbed mountains infested with monsters, and fought battles with words and weapons. All I wanted was to curl up on a flat surface somewhere and not move until dawn tomorrow.
Except judging from the rhythmic drumming outside, sleep was not an option.
“The ritual is beginning,” Ylva said. “We must go prepare, and quickly.”
Surrounded by Snorri’s warriors, we went to a small hall that appeared to have been granted to Snorri for his use. We paused outside, Ylva using a stick of charcoal to draw runes on the door, the markings flaring bright and then seeming to sink into the wood when she was finished. “While we call this hall home, no one with ill intent to any of our party may enter,” she murmured. “Though it will not stop them from burning it down around our heads.”
“I’ll post guards,” Snorri said, then motioned for me to go inside.
The hall was simply furnished with many cots, and a fire burned in the hearth, but otherwise, it was empty.
“Where is Steinunn?” Snorri asked of Bjorn, genuine concern in his voice. “Did she fall?”
“It was too dangerous for her to come,” Bjorn answered. “I sent her back with your warrior. Told her to try to catch up to you.”
Snorri’s face darkened. “We saw no sign of her. She was supposed to travel with you for a reason, Bjorn.”