Filed to story: A Fate Inked In Blood Free
Bjorn jerked as though he’d been caught doing something he should not have been. After a heartbeat of silence, he finally said, “Liv dislikes violence-she’s seen too much of what is left in its wake-and your appearance means more will come.”
A shiver passed over me. “Because of the seer’s prophecy? She thinks I’ll cause a war?”
He was silent for a long moment, then said, “The seer saw a future where you unite all the people of Skaland beneath one king. In our world, power is most often achieved with violence.” He hesitated, then added, “And Hlin is a goddess of war.” He drew the furs higher up my chest, cocooning me in warmth. “But she also protects.”
Frustration wormed its way through the haze. “What does that mean?”
“You are unfated, Freya. Nothing the seer foretold is set in stone.”
Without another word, he walked out of sight.
A beam of light stabbed me in the eyes, and I silently cursed Vragi for leaving the door open when he went outside to piss. Groaning, I rolled away from the light, then froze as my cheek brushed over fur of unfamiliar texture.
Memory slammed into me: Vragi’s laughter as he betrayed me, Geir crawling on the ground, my hand consumed by the fire of a god, and pain…pain like nothing I’d experienced before.
Pain that was now…gone.
I sat up, the furs covering me falling away. My clothes were my own, marked with blood and bits of ash, stinking of sweat and fish, but that was the least of my concerns as I stared down at my hand.
It was still wrapped with moss, but the plant was now dry and dead. I tentatively touched the moss with my left hand, equal parts desperate and terrified to see what lay beneath.
“I told you the gods favored you,” a voice said, and I straightened to find Jarl Snorri standing next to the hangings separating the space from the rest of the hall. “They wished for you to be revealed by fire, not to be consumed by it.”
I wasn’t convinced that was true, given my circumstances, but I kept my mouth shut as he crossed over to the bed. Without asking, he pulled the moss free, bits of dead plant and ash falling onto the dark furs. My breath caught as I saw what lay beneath.
“Make a fist,” he ordered.
I dutifully did so, muscles and tendons obeying with minimal protest.
“Ugly,” he said. “But strong enough to grip a weapon, and the seer said nothing of you uniting Skaland with your looks.”
I tried and failed not to flinch, hunting for gratitude that I hadn’t lost use of my hand and finding it lacking. For I saw what Snorri saw. Scars. The skin was twisted and stretched, in some places pink and in others completely white. Turning it over revealed that Liv’s magic had replaced the skin that the fire had melted away, but it was thick and almost devoid of sensation. My eyes burned with tears, and I blinked rapidly, not wanting Snorri to see that his comment had stung. Not wanting anyone to know how vain I truly was.
Snorri retreated from the room and returned with a shield painted bright yellow and red. “Get up.” He held out the heavy wooden circle. “Prove that you can call Hlin’s magic when your life isn’t on the line.”
The floor was cold beneath my bare feet as I slid off the bed and accepted the shield, the muscles of my left arm straining to support it. “And if I can’t?”
Snorri eyed me silently. “Failure always has a price, Freya. But it isn’t always paid by the one who fails.”
A prickle of fear skittered down my back. With Geir injured, my family was at the mercy of Snorri’s men.
Swallowing hard, I hefted the shield and squared my shoulders. Please, I silently prayed. Please don’t abandon me now, Goddess. Then I parted my lips and invoked her name, “Hlin.”
A familiar silver glow streaked out of the fingertips of my left hand, covering the shield and rendering it nearly weightless. It illuminated the room, casting shadows off Snorri’s smiling face. Tentatively, he reached out to touch the shield, then trailed his fingers over the smooth surface of the magic.
I wished it would fling him back as it had Bjorn. Wished it would launch him with such violence as to shatter his body. But it did not.
“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.”