Chapter 12: A Fate Inked in Blood: Chapter 12

Scowling, I stared at the sun, which, given it was late morning, was high in the sky. Bjorn was supposed to have been at the great hall an hour after dawn. My morning had been wasted sitting around waiting, and I was thoroughly pissed off.

“Bjorn isn’t much for mornings,” Liv said, coming up from behind me. “The only reason one typically sees him at dawn is because he’s yet to go to bed.”

That didn’t surprise me at all.

Liv, however, been at the great hall at dawn, checking on the progress of the injured. Despite the gravity of their wounds, several had already departed, fully recovered, while others still suffered. Some, I knew, had never woken up, the goddess Eir having declined to save them.

I quietly wondered, rubbing at the fingerprint-shaped bruises on my arms from Snorri shaking me.

But instead of asking Liv the question, I posed another. “You know him well?”

The healer shrugged. “As well as anyone, I suppose. I was raised on a farm north of Halsar, but I didn’t come to serve Snorri until after my gift manifested, which was after Bjorn was taken to Nordeland.”

I blinked. “Nordeland?”

One of Liv’s eyebrows rose, then she shook her head. “I forget how things are in a small village, not knowing any of the events going on more than an hour’s ride in any direction.” She sighed. “There are days I’d give anything to go back to a life of blissful ignorance.”

From someone else, namely Ylva, the words would have felt like an insult, but not from Liv. She was merely telling it as it was, not casting judgment. “I’d prefer not to be ignorant in this.”

She gave a slight nod. “King Harald of Nordeland heard of the foretelling and, knowing a united Skaland would pose a danger to him, came to Halsar to kidnap Bjorn. He intended to hold him hostage so that Snorri would never move against Nordeland. Bjorn’s mother was killed during the kidnapping. Burned alive, they say.”

I pressed my fingers to my mouth, horrified.

“Snorri attempted to free Bjorn many times. But it was not until three years ago that he succeeded, and it was at great cost in ships and men. Yet well worth it, for Harald lost his hostage and Snorri regained the son whose magic had the power to reveal the shield maiden. Though there are some who wish he’d never returned.”

“Ylva?” The lady of Halsar’s name rose easily to my lips.

Liv sighed. “Yes. Snorri was handfasted to Ylva when Bjorn was conceived with Saga during a moment of indiscretion. Though Ylva now has a son by him, as firstborn, Bjorn remained his heir. Status which he couldn’t claim as Harald’s prisoner.”

I twitched, remembering the night of the wedding, how Ylva had said she couldn’t stand Snorri being with another woman again. The first instance must have been Bjorn’s mother, and it had cost Ylva greatly.

“Ylva’s son is alive, then?” I asked. “If he is, why haven’t I met him?”

Liv nodded. “Leif is fifteen. He’s on a hunting expedition with his cousins, though I expect he’ll return soon enough. Snorri needs warriors more than Halsar needs meat.”

This revelation explained the animosity between Bjorn and Ylva. “When Bjorn returned, he regained his status as heir?”

“Yes.” Liv sat next to me on the bench, fixing her skirts. “But Leif has spent his whole life in Halsar and is Ylva’s son, so there are many who’d prefer him to be Snorri’s heir.”

“But it’s Bjorn’s birthright,” I said, not certain why I felt so defensive.

Liv smirked. “I see the flirt has won you over, though perhaps seeing the other side of his personality will cure you of that.”

She jerked her chin toward the front of the hall, and I turned in time to watch Bjorn trip over the entranceway, nearly sprawling to the floor before catching his balance. Liv laughed, but my eyes only burned, because nothing about this was funny. Quite the opposite.

“You’re late,” I snapped at the same time as Liv said, “I hope you feel half as bad as you look, Bjorn.”

He ignored me and grinned at her. “Not yet, but soon enough.”

His meaning registered and a rush of anger surged through me. “Are you still drunk?”

“Not as drunk as I was.” He turned his grin on me, but the straw stuck in his hair ruined the effect. That and the fact that I was angry enough to kick him in the balls. “Don’t give me that look, Freya,” he added. “I was only doing my best to enjoy my final hours of liberty before my father chains me to your side.”

I balled my hands into fists, hating the hollowness forming in my stomach. “Your ended several hours ago.”

His gaze flattened. “And it already feels like eternity.”

I rolled my eyes to hide the hitch in my breath, because his behavior stung. More than anyone in Halsar, I’d felt connected to him. He’d shown me kindness and respect and had defended me against Ylva. But it seemed all of that didn’t matter as much as I’d thought. At least, not to him. “Get over it.”

“As pleasant as this conversation is”—Liv rose to her feet—“I’ve better things to do than watch you two bicker.”

Bjorn parroted her words as she walked away, which I was tempted to point out only them, but then he rounded on me. “Well? Are you ready?”

I screeched at myself.

So through my teeth, I said, “Where do you wish to conduct my training?”

“Given you’re likely to fall on your arse many times, we’ll go somewhere less muddy,” he said. “The docks will do if you can manage not to fall in the water.”

—

Fuck him. I wasn’t going to take this behavior quietly. “I’m not the one struggling to stand steady on a flat floor.”

He huffed out an amused breath. “We shall see who makes it to the end of the lesson without getting wet.” Then he winked.

A fiery hot blush raced up my chest to my face. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not some simpering maid whose thighs turn slick just because an idiot man winks at her.”

One of the servants walking by heard my words and gaped. Bjorn gave her an apologetic smile. “I was talking about the fjord, Freya.” Then he shook his head. “Such a filthy mind you have. I think I’ll be most corrupted by our time together.”

The servant looked back and forth between us, then hurried off. If I hadn’t so recently discovered what it felt like for flesh to burn, I would have sworn my entire body was aflame.

“Let’s go,” Bjorn said, “before you fill my virtuous mind with any more talk of slick thighs and hard nipples.”

“I said nothing about nipples, you drunk idiot,” I hissed, picking up the two shields I’d secured and scampering after him.

Bjorn threw up his hands. “You see, Freya? Already you are influencing me, and I’ve only been in your company a matter of minutes. What sordid things will my tongue come up with after an hour with you? A day? A year? You will be the ruin of my virtue.”

“The only thing that you need worry about is me cutting out your tongue if you don’t shut up,” I snapped, then stomped ahead of him down to the water, not caring that mud splattered my new trousers or that my shirt was already damp with nervous sweat.

“From most people that would be an empty threat,” he answered, “but you’re a woman who keeps her word, so I will guard my tongue.”

I didn’t think that meant he’d any intention of keeping silent.

The dock would normally be busy with fishermen and merchants coming and going, but today it was silent as a grave, the people of Halsar instead engaged with rebuilding the homes that had been lost to fires set by Gnut’s men.

My feet made echoing thumps as I stomped to the far end, the fjord a glittering steel blue. Though the spring air was cool and the tips of the surrounding mountains were still covered with snow, the overhead sun was warm enough that I didn’t regret leaving my cloak at the great hall. In fact, it was warm enough to—

I turned around in time to see Bjorn dropping his shirt onto the dock, hard muscles and tattooed skin all in clear view. Setting the shields at my feet, I crossed my arms. “Worried about falling in?” I refused to say the word “No.” He hooked his thumbs over his belt, his trousers drifting low enough to reveal the sharp V of muscle that disappeared into them. The injury he’d taken last night was gone, presumably healed with Liv’s magic. Realizing I was staring at the tantalizing stretch of bare skin, I jerked my eyes to his face while gesturing at his discarded shirt.

He only shrugged. “I rarely wear a shirt when I fight.”

This time my eye roll was entirely unfeigned. “Is that part of your strategy, then? To distract the enemy with your rippling muscles so you might kill them while they gape at your splendor?”

“It is madness how well it works,” he agreed. “You’d think that when I run toward them, screaming battle cries and vows for blood, it would be the burning axe they commented on, but no. It’s always, ‘Look at that Bjorn’s ripping muscles. If I survive this battle, I vow to drink less mead so that my belly looks like his.’ ”

I scowled, annoyed that he was getting the better of me. Again. “Why, then?”

“Because fabric burns.” He smirked. “So I either take it off before or risk having to rip it off in the middle of a fight.”

“Leather doesn’t burn,” I said flatly, knowing precisely what the warriors wore when they fought. “Neither does steel. So either you are vain or you are very stupid.”

Bjorn spread his arms wide. “Why not both?”

“Why not indeed,” I grumbled, bending to pick up a shield, gripping it tight. “Snorri has ordered you to teach me to fight in a shield wall. You may begin to do so now.”

“Yes, of Halsar.” He cast his green eyes skyward. “In the shield wall, you must hold a shield.”

“Really?” I said. “That part I didn’t know.”

“You must hold a shield for a ” He bent low, his nose less than a handspan from my already-quivering arm, then met my gaze with raised eyebrows. “I suspect you can’t hold it for more than five minutes.”

He turned on his heel and retreated back up the dock a few paces before flopping down on his arse. Then he rolled up his shirt, using it as a cushion as he lay on his back and closed his eyes, seemingly intent on sunning himself while I stood here quivering and sweating.

“Arm up, Freya,” he called, though there was no way he could see me. “You’re protecting your heart, not your knees.”

I lifted the shield higher, grinding my teeth as my arm protested the strain. But I’d do it. For however long I had to, I’d stand here. This might not be how I’d envisioned being trained as a warrior, but that didn’t mean I’d quit.

I silently chanted.

Minutes passed, and with each one I prayed that Bjorn would say it had been long enough. That I’d proven myself.

But he said nothing. I wasn’t sure if he was even awake. On the beach, more and more people had gathered, watching and chuckling as though this were all a big joke. Even the children joined in, several of them holding up shields with shaking arms, mocking my attempts.

My temper snapped.

“Get up!” I barked. “You are here to teach, not to take a nap in the sun. I wish to do something else.”

Bjorn cracked one eye. “You think that is how it goes in battle? That you get tired and announce to your enemy, ‘I am tired. Let us do something else instead. Let us roast a chicken and drink a cup until my arm steadies.’ ” He sat upright. “If your strength fails you in battle, Freya, you’ll die.”

“I’m aware,” I said between my teeth. “But I wish you to test my strength a different way.”

“Fine.” He rose to his feet, then retrieved the other shield. “Ready?”

Before I had a chance to respond, he slammed it into mine. The impact sent me staggering, and I nearly fell off the end of the dock. Gasping, I stumbled back to the center, barely managing to get my shield up before he struck. Again I staggered, nearly going over the edge. “Why are you so angry about having to do this?”

Because there was no denying that he angry.

Behind the swagger and jokes and indifference was rage, and I didn’t understand why. Didn’t understand why teaching me to fight and watching my back was such a horrible thing.

“Because it’s bullshit.” He smashed his shield into mine with enough force that my heels slid over the edge of the dock, only luck keeping me from falling. “My fate is not tied to yours—that’s just Snorri spinning words to get what he wants. It’s not my destiny to protect you.”

The latter made sense, in a way, but the former…“What if he’s right? Other than Ylva, you were the only one who saw the vision of me being torn apart. That has to mean something.”

“Probably because I have god’s blood.”

“So do Steinunn and Liv,” I countered. “Steinunn says that she saw nothing.”

His expression darkened, though I wasn’t certain if it was the mention of the skald or the fact I’d disproved his argument. “This is not my fate.”

He slammed his shield into mine and my arm shuddered, nearly buckling. One more blow like that and I was going to take the edge of my shield in my chin, but I refused to give in. Refused to call it quits.

“My fate”—he paused in his attack, although I wasn’t certain if it was to give me a rest or because he was more interested in airing his grievances than fighting—“is to win battles, not spend day and night defending another man’s wife.”

“I see.” My tone frigid, I added, “A woman is only worth your time if you might end up in her bed, is that the truth of it?”

“And if it is?”

Even if it was the truth, his behavior was unfair, because it was Snorri who’d forced him into this role, not me. Yet I was the one Bjorn was taking his displeasure out on. And I wasn’t going to take it.

Bjorn came at me again, and as I braced, I murmured, “Hlin, give me strength.”

Power surged through me, magic enveloping my shield. I watched Bjorn’s eyes widen, but it was too late for him to stop his blow.

His shield struck my magic, and the impact launched him backward with such force that he flew through the air, landing in the fjord with a splash.

Vanquishing my magic, I moved to the end of the dock and watched him come spluttering to the surface, his shield floating nearby. “It seems you are the one who is wet, Bjorn.”

He glared at me and then swam toward the dock with powerful strokes, shield abandoned in the water. “Magic will only take you so far,” he snarled. “Snorri wants you to become a warrior, not a glowing beacon in the shield wall that everyone will try to kill.”

“Fuck Snorri,” I shouted at him. “And fuck you, too.”

He reached for the edge of the dock to pull himself up, but I wasn’t through. So I stomped on his fingers, earning a yelp of pain.

“You think I want to be a figurehead?” I demanded. “You think I asked to be named in a seer’s prophecy? I was going about my life when you rode into it and tore it to shreds.”

“Because life with Vragi was such a fine thing? You hated him.”

Bjorn started to reach up for the dock again, then hesitated as I lifted my foot.

“Perhaps you ought to consider Vragi’s fate before you test me any further.”

“Threats will not force me to be satisfied with spending life as your shadow.”

“I don’t give a shit if you’re satisfied!” I shouted, even though it was a lie. It bother me knowing that he resented being around me. “Because no one gives a shit if I’m satisfied! I didn’t agree to Snorri’s ultimatum for myself, I did it to protect my family, which is clearly something don’t understand. Because we family now.”

An emotion I couldn’t quite read flickered through his eyes, and Bjorn looked away. Immediately, I regretted my words. He’d spent much of his life separated from his family, kept as a prisoner. If he didn’t understand, it was because he’d never had a chance to.

Swallowing hard, I forced myself to finish. “If you continue to try to make things worse than they are, I will return the favor tenfold. So perhaps you might do us both the favor of saving your ire for the individual who has forced us to such close proximity.”

Bjorn said nothing, only treaded water, his shield slowly drifting past us toward shore.

“You may get out of the water now,” I said, extremely aware that we were being watched. “And then you may apologize.”

“I’m too afraid to get out.” He continued swimming in place. “You have thrown me in the water, possibly broken my fingers, and threatened to murder me. At least in the fjord I don’t need to fear you pursuing me.”

Though I knew damn well Bjorn had no fear of me, a hint of unease filled my chest that I’d gone too far. My mother always said that I had the temper of a caged mink, prone to saying the worst sorts of things, only to regret them later. “I’m not going to murder you.”

“Just batter my feelings until I wish I were dead?”

“I’m not—” I scowled as a smile grew on his face and I crossed my aching arms. “I won’t do anything to you that you don’t deserve. Now get out and apologize and we may carry on.”

He eyed me for a moment, then swam closer and took hold of the dock. Only to snatch his hand back with a hiss of pain.

Concern flooded me. Had I truly broken his fingers? Should I go fetch Liv?

“Help me up,” he muttered, reaching with his other hand.

Without thinking I grasped it, realizing his deception a heartbeat before he pulled. A shriek tore from my lips as I fell headfirst into the fjord, the shock of cold worse than I remembered.

Righting myself, I spat out a mouthful of seawater and glared at him. “This is not a good start.”

He inclined his head. “I am sorry for being an arse and not showing you the respect you deserve, Freya Born-in-Fire.”

“And you needed to get me wet to tell me that?” I was bloody freezing, and from the beach I could hear the laughter of the onlookers who’d watched me go arse-up into the fjord.

“I needed to be a little bit sorry before I could get an apology from my mouth,” he said. “But now it is said, and we may move on.”

“Don’t be so certain,” I grumbled, watching as he swam under the dock, then reached up to hook his fingers through the boards. Every muscle in his body stood out in stark relief as he hung from the dock, water running in rivulets through the dips and valleys of taut skin.

He eyed me for a long moment, green eyes thoughtful, then asked, “Has Snorri told you anything of his plans for you? Said anything about how he believes you will make him king?”

“No,” I answered around chattering teeth. “He’s barely spoken to me at all.”

“Marriage at its finest.” Bjorn chuckled, but before I could ball up my fist to punch him in his stomach, he added, “No one knows. I asked around last night and spent a small fortune in mead, but no one knows anything.”

My cheeks heated as I realized that he’d not, as I’d thought, spent the entirety of his night getting drunk and having sex with random women. He’d spent at least some of it trying to discover the answer to the question I was desperate to answer myself. “If he were to confide in anyone, I should think it would be you.”

He looked away, scanning the fjord, though there was nothing to be seen but water. “We are not as close as you might think.”

I had no business prying, but I still asked, “Because of the years you spent in Nordeland?”

Bjorn’s eyes shot back to me. “What do you know of that?”

“Nothing other than that you were taken prisoner as a child and that Snorri rescued you.” I had a million questions I wished to ask, but I settled on the one that had bothered me the most. “Why didn’t you escape?”

It was understandable why he hadn’t tried to escape as a child, but much less so as a grown man, because as a child of Tyr, Bjorn was armed. And even untrained, a boy with an axe made of a god’s fire could do a great deal of damage.

Silence.

I cringed internally.

He cleared his throat. “I swore blood oaths as a child not to try to escape. Harald has many powerful individuals in his service, including those adept with rune magic.”

“Being rescued didn’t violate your oath?” I asked, curious given that I’d recently sworn my own.

“Clearly not.”

“I heard that Snorri lost many men and drakkar rescuing you,” I said, unsure why I kept pressing the topic. “He must care for you very much to have kept trying.”

“He knew he needed the fire of a god to find you,” Bjorn answered. “His rescue attempts didn’t begin until I’d been in Nordeland for two years, which was when he learned my magic had manifested.”

It hadn’t been sentiment that had driven Snorri to rescue his son, but the selfish need to claim the destiny he dreamed of. It was no wonder they weren’t close. Needing to change the subject before I dug up any more wounds, I said, “What about the seer who spoke the foretelling. Why not ask them for information about what I’m supposed to do?”

“Because is dead.”

His voice was sharp, and understanding slowly dawned on me as I put the pieces together. Swallowing hard, I said, “The seer was your mother?”

Bjorn gave a tight nod.

A million questions reared in my head, but it was more than apparent that Bjorn wanted nothing to do with this conversation. Still, I hazarded one. “Were you there when she spoke the foretelling?”

“I was too young to remember.”

Of course, that made sense. “Did she ever say anything else about me? Ever say why the gods believed I’d be able to achieve such a fate?”

He hesitated, then said, “Her gift was her downfall. I don’t enjoy talking about it.”

Gods, I needed to cut out my own tongue because one day I’d build my own barrow with it. But before I could start in on apologies, footfalls thudded down the dock overhead. A heartbeat later, Snorri’s voice filtered down. “Get out of the water. Your brother has returned with news.”