I threw myself forward in a series of attacks, panic rising as he deflected them one after another, his face expressionless as he stayed on the defense.
Why bother attacking, given the fire burning my shield would do the work for him?
“Show your worth, Bjorn,” Snorri snarled. “Show her what it really means to fight!”
My breath came in rapid pants as I swung again and again, knowing that my only chance was to win. To kill him, as much as I didn’t want to. “Why are you doing this?” I demanded of Snorri between gasps. “What do you have to gain from my death?”
“I gain nothing from your death,” he answered. “So fight!”
None of this made sense.
Bjorn alone seemed to agree. “There’s no sport to this contest. It’s nothing more than this weasel-cocked fishmonger wanting bigger men to punish his wife for his own failings beneath the furs.”
“I plowed her nightly,” Vragi shouted. “It’s her fault!”
“Perhaps you plowed the wrong field!” Bjorn laughed and jumped out of the way of my swing, knocking his axe against my shield as though batting a fly.
My temper flared bright, less for the crass implication and more for the fact he wasn’t even giving me the honor of trying. “Lemon juice made quick work of any seed his prick had to sow.”
Probably not wise to give up my secret, but given that my death seemed imminent, it was worth seeing the look of stunned outrage on Vragi’s face. Bjorn howled with laughter, staggering backward and clutching at his stomach, though he was quick to block my attack when I tried to stab him.
“Gods, Vragi,” he laughed. “The world is truly better off without your progeny if you don’t question why your woman tastes of lemons.”
Tastes? I froze, staring at Bjorn, who gave me a slow smile.
“Seems he was most definitely doing it wrong.”
“Bjorn, shut the fuck up!” Snorri paced in a circle around us. “Kill her now or I’m going to cut out your tongue to silence you!”
The humor fell away from Bjorn’s eyes. “I wish fate had been kinder to you, Freya.”
Without warning, he attacked.
Gone were the halfhearted swats and effortless parries, and in their place were heavy blows that sent me staggering.
I’d thought I knew how to fight. What it would be like to be in a real battle. Nothing could have prepared me for the understanding that no matter how hard I swung, how quick I parried, the end was coming for me.
My shield burned, smoke and heat stinging my eyes, but I didn’t dare drop it. Bjorn attacked again. I moved to defend, but his axe caught hold of my blade and ripped it from my grip, sending it spinning into the forest.
This was it.
This was the moment.
Yet Bjorn hesitated, stepping back instead of moving in for the kill. A killer, yes. But not a murderer.
“Get it over with,” Snorri shouted. “You’ve dragged this out long enough. Kill her!”
I was afraid. So painfully afraid that though I sucked in breath after desperate breath, it felt like nothing reached my lungs. Like I was being strangled by my own terror. Yet I managed to heft the burning shield, ready to fight to the end. Ready to die with honor. Ready to earn my place in Valhalla.
The burning axe blurred toward me, striking my shield. A split formed in the wood even as I stumbled backward, barely keeping my feet. My arm ached with the force of the impact, and a sob tore from my lips.
He swung again.
I saw it as though time had slowed. Knew the force of the blow would shatter the shield and sever my arm. Knew that I’d smell my own burned flesh. My own scorched blood.
My courage wavered, then failed me.
“Hlin,” I gasped out the name forbidden to me all my life. “Protect me!”
A clap of thunder shattered my ears as Bjorn’s flaming axe struck my shield, which was no longer formed of wood but of silver light. The impact sent him soaring through the air, his body slamming into a tree a dozen paces from me with enough force that the trunk split.
Bjorn fell to the ground in a heap, stunned, his axe landing in a pile of pine needles and swiftly setting them ablaze.
Yet no one did anything to smother the flames. No one moved. No one so much as spoke.
Slowly, Bjorn pushed himself upright, shaking his head to clear it even as his eyes fixed on me. His voice shook as he said, “She’s the shield maiden.”
A shiver ran through me, and I vanquished my magic. But it was too late. They’d all seen.
They all knew.
“You see, my lord,” Vragi said, his voice loud and grating. “It is as I said: Freya is a child of the goddess Hlin and has been hiding her magic.”
Though it mattered little, the first thought that rose in my head was: How did he know?
Vragi chuckled, seeing the question in my eyes. “All those times you sneaked away, I thought you were lying with another man. So I followed you. Caught you out sure enough, even if it had nothing to do with another cock.”
My stomach hollowed. How had I been so blastedly stupid? Why hadn’t I taken more care?
“Steinunn,” Snorri said. “This will be the song of a generation, and it will be composed by your magic.”
The woman didn’t answer, only stared at me with such intensity I had to look away.
Bjorn smothered the fire his axe had caused, though the weapon still blazed in his hand as he drew closer. “I take it you don’t actually want me to kill her.”
Snorri snorted. “I’m not sure you could if you tried. It was foretold that her name would be born in the fire of a god. Her fate was never to die at your hand.”
“She’s unfated,” Bjorn retorted. “No one could predict whether I’d kill her, not even the gods.”
A huff of amusement exited Snorri. “You think I don’t know my own son? I knew you’d withhold a killing blow long enough for terror to force her hand.”
Snorri had played us off one another.
The hollowness in my chest began to fill with the smoldering heat of anger. That heat turned to inferno as Snorri pulled a purse from inside his coat, tossing it to Vragi. “As compensation for your lost bride price. And for your loyalty.”
“You traitorous fucking prick!” I snarled. “Is there no end to your greed?”
Vragi pulled a gold necklace out of the purse, admiring it as he said, “It’s not greed, Freya. I’m only honoring the gods by setting you to your true purpose. You really should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you?”
“Yes.” He grinned. “You will soon be second wife to the jarl, which means you’ll be living in his great hall with endless baubles and riches. And he’ll take you to fight in the raids, which is what you wanted.”
Second wife. I looked to Snorri with horror, and though I saw annoyance in his eyes, he gave a nod of confirmation. “Nearly two decades ago, a seer spoke a prophecy to me of a shield maiden who’d been birthed the night of a red moon. She told me that this woman’s name would be born in the fire of the gods, and she would unite the people of Skaland beneath the rule of the one who controlled her fate.”
“Fate is woven by the Norns.” My tongue felt thick and I swallowed hard. “They control it.”
“All is fated except the lives of the children of the gods,” Snorri corrected. “Your path is unknown and as you walk it, you rearrange the threads of all those around you.”
A dull whining noise filled my ears, the sun turning impossibly bright. I was no one, and Hlin…she was the most minor of gods, barely thought of and never mentioned. Certainly not powerful enough to unite the clans beneath one man.
“You are to be a king-maker, Freya,” Snorri said, moving to grip me by the arms. “And as your husband, the one who decides your fate, I will be that king.”
This was why my father had demanded I keep my magic a secret, why he had been so convinced that I’d be used against my will if I revealed my magic. He’d been one of Snorri’s warriors, which meant he would have heard of the prophecy. Would have known Snorri’s intent, and hadn’t wanted that life for me. I didn’t want that life for me. “No!”