Filed to story: A Fate Inked In Blood Free
Bodil nodded approvingly, and my cheeks warmed because I wasn’t used to such a response when I voiced my thoughts. Eager to give her more, I said, “Gnut has earned our retaliation by attacking Halsar twice, and by voicing his defiance to Snorri. Not attacking him makes us look weak. Makes us look as though we will tolerate such behavior, which will cause more to do the same until soon we have attacks coming from all sides. To protect our people, we must take action against him. Not only to discourage others who think to capitalize upon our weakness, but to protect those who’ve sworn to Snorri already. Prove to everyone that Snorri will lift up high those who follow him and walk with heavy heels over those who seek to bring us low. Warriors must be proud to follow him even as they fear to defy him.”
My heart thundered. I’d said what I believed, felt it in my bones, and I’d fight to see such a thing achieved. Yet I waited with anticipation for Bodil’s reaction, for now that she’d unleashed my voice, I craved her validation. “Do you agree?”
She tilted her head. “Steinunn will spread word with her songs, and time alone will tell how Skaland reacts to the deeds that have been done. But tell me this, Freya. Bjorn is not wrong in how he speaks of Grindill’s defenses. How do you propose we take it?”
I bit the insides of my cheeks, then admitted, “I’ve never seen this fortress, Bodil. Never fought in more than a skirmish. Until the day that Snorri took me, I had never traveled more than half a day from my village, so I’ve no business telling anyone how this siege should be fought. But…”
She smiled and poked the fire again, sending sparks flying. “But?”
The answer sat on my tongue, yet I had a hard time speaking it because it felt arrogant. The last thing I wanted was to be in possession of an inflated sense of self-worth. The trouble was, the more I spoke, the more I saw how Skaland could be united. Not by battle strategies and victories, though those would play a part, but by belief. “I have to be the one to win it.”
Swallowing hard, I added, “For Skalanders to agree to follow Snorri, they must believe that the gods wish to see him as king. That this is fate. And for that to happen, I must play my part, else no stories will be told of me.”
“Yes, you must play your part,” Bodil answered. “And as to the rest, we must play our own parts by making you ready. Tomorrow, you will train with me and with my warriors.”
Excitement filled me even as my stomach plummeted, because I’d assumed that Snorri would have me resume training with Bjorn. That I wouldn’t have a choice and therefore no one would question the time spent with him improving my fighting skills.
As if sensing my thoughts, Bodil said, “Bjorn’s skill is unparalleled, but he fights like a man, relying too much on brute strength, never mind that axe of his. You must learn to fight like a woman and the only ones who can teach you that are other women. I will speak to Snorri on it.”
“Thank you,” I murmured. “You honor me.”
Bodil gave a soft snort, then rose to her feet. “Skalanders are not known for their altruism, Freya, and I am no different. I wish to rise on the tide, not sink beneath it, and the best way I can do that is to be at your side. You are a clever, passionate woman with a good heart-a woman worth following.”
The mix of honesty and flattery in her answer drew a smile to my face, but it evaporated as the jarl added, “You are right that for Skalanders to follow, they must hear tell of your exploits and conquests. But keep in mind those exploits and conquests must be fitting of a leader, else they are naught more than the fishwife gossip. And the consequences of gossip aren’t always for the person being spoken about.”
She’d noticed. The reprimand for whatever was going on between me and Bjorn stung all the more after her approval, and I visibly flinched, barely managing a nod.
“Tonight, my maidens and I will celebrate the lives of the fallen,” she said. “And I believe Steinunn will sing some of the ballad she has composed to spread word of your battle fame. We would like for you to join us, Freya.”
Without waiting for me to respond, she disappeared into the darkness.
Hunched over against the cold, I stared at the fire. Her warning was clear and nothing I didn’t already know, but there was something about hearing it from the lips of another that made it more real. Made the consequences more threatening, because Bodil was right: I wouldn’t be the one who’d be harmed if Snorri discovered I was lusting after his son. It would be my family. Would be-
“I see she finally gave up prying.”
I stiffened as Bjorn sat next to me. “Be wary of what you say to her, Born-in-Fire. The woman hears too much.”
“I know.” My tongue felt numb, my throat thick, and the sudden urge to cry fell over me.
What would Snorri do to Bjorn if he found out I was enamored with him?
A sickening feeling filled my core, because becoming king was Snorri’s obsession and he’d proven that he’d sacrifice everything and anything to see it through. He cared for Bjorn and seemed to truly believe that his son was entwined in my fate, but if the right gossip reached his ears, that could easily change.
I rose to my feet. “Bodil gives good advice,” I said. “She’s offered me the opportunity to train with her and her maidens, and I have accepted. It will do me well to learn from them.”
Bjorn’s voice was clipped as he said, “You barely know her.”
“Then I suppose I should remedy that.”
And lest my traitorous heart betray me, I turned and walked toward the female warriors dancing around a distant fire. “Spare a cup for me?” I asked when I reached them.
Bodil laughed. “Of course. It will be our honor to drink with Freya Born-in-Fire!”
One of her maidens pushed a cup of mead into my hand, and I drank deeply as the women shouted my name. Laughing, I held the cup out for more, then allowed the women to draw me into their dance.
My feet struck the ground to the rhythm of the drums, and I shrieked as someone threw more wood on the fire, sparks and embers flaring up into the night sky. The mead settled into my veins, the world spinning as we circled around the bonfire, women tossing aside heavy clothes as heat flushed our skin. Honoring both the dead and the gods they had joined, singing their names and praising their deeds.
When was the last time I had danced? When was the last time that I’d honored the gods as I should? When was the last time I surrounded myself with women whom I might one day call friends?
Men attempted to approach, drawn by drink and bare skin, but Bodil’s maidens chased them off with spears and laughter, the jarl shouting, “This is a place for women, get you gone or face our wrath!”
Grinning, I caught up a spear, joining the fray. Beyond the men encircling us, my eyes locked with Bjorn’s, and I lifted my spear, daring him to come closer. But he only shook his head and disappeared into the woods.
Then everyone went still, the rhythm of the drums fading into silence. It took me a heartbeat to understand why, then my eyes found Steinunn, who approached, a small drum hanging from a strap around her shoulders. The skald waited until all had grown still, then began to beat on her drum, the rhythm slow and ominous.
Bodil moved to my elbow, catching my arm as I swayed, my balance all of a sudden unsteady. “Have you heard a skald perform a song about your own exploits before, Freya?”
I shook my head, unnerved at how my heart had adopted the rhythm of Steinunn’s drum.
“For those who were not in the tunnels with the draug, this will be a thrilling adventure. Entertainment of the first order,” she said. “But for you…it will be like being back in the darkness with monsters coming from every side.”
My palms turned cold and I took a long drink from my cup, though I knew I’d already had far too much. “All right.”