This is madness, the last vestiges of logic in me screamed. You need to run! You need to hide!
I ignored the warning and dug my heels into the small of Bjorn’s back, sliding one foot down to catch the waist of his trousers, pulling them low. Feeling the heat of his naked arse against my ankle as I bit at his lip, relishing how he groaned into my mouth. The front of his trousers remained caught between the tight press of our pelvises, but it did nothing to hide the hard length of his cock. Gods help me, he was as aroused as I was, which meant neither of us were thinking straight. Yet I found I didn’t care as I rubbed against him, the fabric dragging against my sensitive flesh, and my body turned hot and liquid as tension rose and rose inside me. I would have this, would have him. Would revel in this moment right up to the second I was caught, and then I’d fight.
And I’d show these men no mercy for stealing this moment away from me.
“We need to see her face.”
I tensed at the demand. But Bjorn snarled, “She’s occupied. Now fuck off before I break Fjalltindr’s peace.”
Hiding my face would only raise suspicions, so instead I trusted that the mask would do its duty and reared back, my shoulders slamming against the tree. “Shut up and fuck me,” I gasped loudly. Both warriors gaped at my breasts rather than my masked face, and I silently thanked the predictability of men.
But they didn’t leave.
Go away, part of me prayed, but that logical voice was drowned out by the wanton part of me demanding that Bjorn see this performance through. The part of me that needed his cock deep inside me. It was she who won. She who rode him like a wild thing, release stalking ever closer.
Yet still the men remained, watching.
Panic twisted with my desire, my heart exploding under the pressure, all of which was drowned by horror as Bjorn pulled back his hood, revealing his face. “You must truly have a death wish.”
What was he doing?
I balled my hand into a fist, readying for the men to recognize him and attack, but they only laughed. “I hope she’s worth it, Bjorn.”
And they moved on.
The shock stilled me. It had worked. They were gone.
But why?
“Why did they just leave?” I whispered, watching their retreating backs. “Harald made a deal with Ylva to kill you. I heard them.”
“You’re the king-maker, Born-in-Fire. The only life Harald cares about is yours,” Bjorn said, and the tone of his voice drew my eyes back to him. He was looking up at me, bands of moonlight crossing his too-handsome face. His expression was strange, almost reverential, and we stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment.
Then he gave his head a shake, looking away from me. “You gave a very convincing performance.”
Shock radiated through me. He’d thought that I’d been faking my reaction to him? Thought all of that was nothing more than an act to put Harald’s warriors off my trail?
A hollowness formed in my stomach, and I allowed my legs to slip from his waist, righting the bodice of my dress so that my breasts were once again concealed. I was painfully aware of the slickness between my thighs, my core aching with need that hadn’t been satisfied, and never would be.
But that was a familiar disappointment. Nothing compared to the hurt in my heart, because I’d thought…
You’re an idiot, Freya.
I’d nearly been kidnapped by Skaland’s greatest enemy, and my concerns were for my cursed feelings.
Sucking in a deep breath, I said, “Why did that work, Bjorn? Why didn’t they demand to see my face?”
His grip on my hips tightened, then he dropped his hands. “Because they know I’m not fool enough to cuckold my own father.”
Apparently I was the only one foolish enough to do that.
Shouts and commotion drew my attention back to the hall. Snorri stood before the open door, barking orders.
What I should have felt was relief, but next to him stood Ylva, and the sight of that backstabbing bitch filled me with fury. I wanted to stride across the space between us and knock her on her arse before revealing what she’d done, even if it hadn’t worked out in her favor.
A hand closed around my wrist, and I looked up into Bjorn’s eyes.
“Don’t,” he said. “If you make accusations without proof, my father won’t believe you.”
“She was the one who convinced him to take all the guards. How is that not proof?”
“For which she had good reason. He trusts Ylva, but more than that, he knows of the tension between you two. He’ll see your words as an attempt to discredit her out of jealousy.”
“I am not jealous of her.” The words came out from between my teeth. “I want to push her off a cliff.”
Instead of being horrified at such a dark truth, Bjorn laughed. “So say all jealous women.”
I gave him a flat stare, but he only smirked. “Go. And hold your tongue, for it is to your advantage that those who conspire against you believe you unaware.”
He was right, but I still wanted to grind my teeth that Ylva was going to get away with her actions tonight. I needed to be smart, needed to be strategic, but I was so tired. Tired and embarrassed and unsatisfied. My eyes pricked with tears even as I cursed myself for caring so much about the wrong things.
Twisting out of Bjorn’s grip, I took two steps, then froze as he said in a low voice, “It isn’t you who has cause to be jealous, Freya.”
A shiver ran through me, though I didn’t know why. Ylva was no more jealous of me than I was of her. Not answering, I pulled off the antlered mask, throwing it into the bushes before I walked through the revelers to where Snorri stood, still shouting orders.
His eyes fixed on me, widening. “Where did you go? Why did you leave the protection of the wards?”
“I woke to find myself alone.” Hesitating, I added, “I feared the worst for you and went in search.” Better he believe that than the truth.
Snorri’s frown softened even as Ylva scowled. “The hall was warded. You were an idiot to leave.”
I bit my tongue and hung my head, and to my surprise, Snorri snapped, “Where were you, Ylva? You were no more supposed to leave the wards than she was!”
“Bjorn was with her,” she retorted. “The question we should be asking is where is he now?”
Snorri’s eyes panned over the revels beyond, then focused on Ylva, his voice frigid. “You didn’t answer my question.”
He was suspicious, and though it was for the wrong reasons, I waited for Ylva to start squirming.
I should’ve known better.
The lady of Halsar lifted her chin and glared at her husband. “You wish to know where I was? I was with—”
“She was with me.”
At the sound of the voice, everyone turned.
A tall woman approached. She was dressed in a warrior’s attire, less the weapons, with a dozen other women at her heels, all dressed similarly. She was perhaps Snorri’s age, her silvered hair pulled back in war braids and her bare arms marked with faded scars. Coming to a stop, she hooked her thumbs into her belt. “Jarl Snorri.”
His jaw tightened. “Jarl Bodil.”
I gaped. I couldn’t help it. Bodil was a famous warrior and the only woman living who claimed the title of jarl. But more than that, she was a child of the god Forseti, able to tell truth from lie, no matter who spoke. Which meant if Ylva lied about what she’d been doing, Bodil would know.
Whether she’d share that information might be another matter.
“Ylva met with me to discuss an alliance,” Bodil said. “Given what I witnessed tonight, the very gods themselves stepping onto the mortal plane to accept Freya’s sacrifice and claim her as their own, I saw merit in her proposition. I will follow the shield maiden into battle against our mutual enemies.”
Her words were lost in a drone of noise because this didn’t make sense. Ylva had been with Harald, not with Bodil. I’d seen…
What had I seen?