She wanted Bjorn out of the way, I knew that for a fact. And though she’d said she was with Bodil the entire time at Fjalltindr, she’d been gone more than long enough to have a conversation with both of them. But the true proof was in the runes themselves.
This was sorcery that few had the nerve to practice, but I’d seen Ylva do it. First for the ritual where Hlin had given me my tattoos, and then in Fjalltindr when she’d warded the hall. This was within her power, and she had more motive than anyone who’d witnessed Snorri’s speech, because she didn’t want to abandon Halsar.
“Bitch,” I hissed, then spun on my heels, fully intending to drag Snorri himself up to this tree to show him the proof of the conspiracy.
I took one step and ran smack into a solid chest.
Rebounding, I swore and reached for my sword, only to realize a heartbeat before I drew it that the chest belonged to Bjorn.
He crossed his arms. “What are you doing in the woods alone, Freya?”
Not alone. With him.
Which was the exact opposite of what I’d been trying to accomplish. If anyone saw us out here together, it would only add fuel to whatever rumors were swirling, and there would be consequences to that. “Why are you following me?”
One dark eyebrow rose. “Because my father has ordered me to keep you alive, and allowing you to wander off alone and get yourself killed runs counter to that.”
My cheeks burned. “Fine. It doesn’t matter.” It was hard to focus, thoughts dancing in and out of my head as I struggled with what to say. “The specter appeared to me. It walked around the beach and led me here.”
Bjorn tensed. “The specter?”
“Yes.” It was a struggle to meet his gaze. “It brought me up there”—I gestured to the slope—“and it told me to watch. It touched me, and though it was burning, its hand felt like ice.”
He shifted uneasily, and I couldn’t blame him. “What did you see?”
“That signal fire”—I gestured to the now faintly smoking ashes—“was burning hot. A woman was there.”
“A woman? Did you see her face?”
I shook my head. “She was hooded. But she carved the runes on the tree and then disappeared down the ravine.” I turned back to the tree to point them out, and my stomach plummeted.
The runes were gone, only a smoldering circle left where they’d once been. “No,” I snarled. “This cannot be. They were right here!” Rounding on Bjorn, I said, “I touched the runes and they showed a vision of Snorri giving his speech detailing his plans to abandon Halsar and take Grindill. It was a message.”
“I believe you.” Stepping around me, Bjorn bent low to examine the char. “There are combinations of runes that can burn themselves away once their magic has been spent. Prudent for anyone leaving a message that they’d rather no one see.”
“Fuck!” I kicked a rock hard, sending it spinning into the underbrush as my anger rose.
“Why are you so angry?” Bjorn asked, eyeing me warily.
“Because now he’ll never believe it was Ylva!” Picking up another rock, I hurled it at the tree, not caring if I looked childish. “It will be just like Fjalltindr where it is her word against mine that she’s conspiring with Harald, and you know who Snorri will believe.”
“You think this was Ylva’s doing? To what end?”
“Obviously it’s her.” I bent double, trying to master the irrational twist of fury that wanted to send me back to camp in search of blood. “She’s a volva. She knows how to use the runes. We know she wants to be rid of you, so that Leif can inherit.”
Bjorn was silent.
My chest hollowed, because if he didn’t believe me, no one would. “You think I’m lying?”
“I don’t think that.” His gaze was on the charred remains of the runes; then he glanced skyward, eyes searching the clouds before moving back to me. “But I struggle to believe Ylva would risk her people just for the sake of getting rid of me.”
“Mothers will do anything for their sons,” I retorted, guilt rising in my chest when Bjorn flinched. “She wants Leif to be king one day and you’re in the way of that.”
Bjorn looked away, his jaw tight. “Perhaps so. But my father trusts her and will not believe these accusations. Better for us to return to camp and tell him what you saw in the runes. He’ll come to his own conclusions based on what we tell him.”
We.
My stomach soured, because telling Snorri anything meant revealing that I was alone in the woods with Bjorn. Which would beg the question of why, especially since Bodil had told me not to wander. “I’ll tell him myself. You didn’t see anything, so you need not be involved.”
Turning, I picked my way down the creek bed and into the narrow ravine, which I knew would lead me back to the fjord.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
Bjorn’s words echoed between the stone walls of the ravine, stopping me in my tracks. “I’m not avoiding you. Why would you think that?”
“Because you’ve run away from almost every encounter we’ve had since we left Fjalltindr.”
“You ran away from our conversation at the fire last night,” I pointed out, though it was no defense, given I was avoiding him.
Water splashed as he made his way down the stream, not taking the care I had to remain dry, and stopped behind me. Despite fear of discovery making my palms sweat and my stomach churn, being this close to Bjorn was intoxicating. Every inhale filled my nose with pine and the salt of the fjords, and the heat radiating from him made me want to draw closer.
“Bodil thinks that just because she’s allied with my father, she’s privy to clan business,” he said. “So it was her I was escaping, not you. What’s your excuse?”
That I want to lose myself in your arms and I’m afraid everyone knows it. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’ve been occupied with my training.”
“With Bodil.” His voice was flat.
“Yes, with Bodil and her warriors.” Why couldn’t I look at him? Why couldn’t I meet his gaze? “What of it?”
Bjorn opened his mouth, but instead of allowing him to speak, I blurted out, “You made it clear it was not a role you wanted. Denied in no uncertain terms that our destinies were entwined.”
“Freya—”
“Even if you felt differently, Bodil is a better teacher.” My underarms were dampening, my voice breathy in a way I detested. “You rely on size and strength when you fight, but I’m small and weak and—”
“You aren’t weak.”
My cheeks flushed. “Well, perhaps not. But I am weaker than most men, which means that I can’t fight like a man. I want to learn to fight like a woman.”
Silence.
Biting the insides of my cheeks, I waited for Bjorn to speak, the anticipation of what he would say the purest form of misery. I was sweating like a pig, and even if he couldn’t see it beneath my cloak, he could probably smell it and all I wanted to do was jump in the deeper current of the stream and allow it to wash me away.
Instead, I forced myself to turn around.
Rather than glowering, Bjorn’s expression was thoughtful. As our eyes locked, he gave a nod. “You have the right of it. Bodil will teach you better than a man ever could.” But then his head tilted, his eyes narrowing. “Yet that does not explain why you refuse to even look at me.”
My heart skipped, then raced, and I swallowed hard. Excuses sat on my tongue like thorns, words that he’d have to accept even if he didn’t quite believe them.
But I didn’t want to lie. Not to him.
Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I said, “I’ve been avoiding you because of what happened between us at Fjalltindr.”
Bjorn huffed out an aggrieved breath. “We did what we needed to do to keep Harald’s men from taking you, Freya. Not even my father would judge.”
“Then why did neither of us tell him?”
“Because it wasn’t necessary!” Bjorn threw up his hands, looking away. “It didn’t mean anything.”
I flinched, then tried to cover it by shifting my feet. Wasted effort because Bjorn’s eyes narrowed as he said, “What more is there to say?”
Everything.
It would be easier to shrug and say nothing than to admit the truth. Easier to leave the conversation as it stood and walk away, my pride intact.