“Where are you going?” Bjorn demanded, quickly catching me with his long strides.
“I’m done fighting it,” I said, stepping around a goat and then over a pair of chickens that clucked their way into my path. “Done asking questions, done trying to change things for the better. It’s time to accept the path that was intended for me. The path your mother foresaw for me.”
Bjorn caught my arm, pulling me to a stop. “Accept it? What does that mean?”
“It means allowing your father the control he was fated to have.” I forced myself to look up to meet Bjorn’s eyes. “He’s meant to rule, not me, so it’s time I swear an oath to him as king.”
“Freya—”
I tried to pull out of his grip, but his hand tightened on my wrist, so I rounded on him. “What exactly is it you want me to do, Bjorn?”
“I already told you.” He bent down so that we were nose-to-nose. “Change your fate.”
He’d said that to me over Bodil’s body, but I hadn’t really questioned what that meant. “You don’t wish for me to unite Skaland?”
“I…” He exhaled a long breath, moving closer. Too close, given that we were in view of dozens of prying eyes. “Ask yourself how Skaland will become united. Then ask what you’ll have to become to achieve that end.”
“What does it matter?” I demanded, because I didn’t want to look into myself to find the answers to those questions.
“It matters to me.” His thumb rubbed over the back of my wrist. “You matter to me.”
You are mine, Born-in-Fire. Even if only the two of us know it. The echo of what he’d said to me on the mountaintop filled my ears, and I shivered. “What do you want me to do?”
He swallowed hard. “I want you to listen to Steinunn sing tonight.”
—
A platform had been placed in the middle of the square at the center of the fortress, and it seemed every last man, woman, and child in Grindill had come to see Steinunn sing her ballad.
Not that I was surprised.
To hear a child of Bragi sing was more than entertainment; it was a privilege very few would have the opportunity to witness in their lifetimes. Not only were the stories the skalds told with their songs passed down from generation to generation, so too was the experience of hearing the song direct from the skald’s lips. Because one didn’t just hear, one saw.
That was the part I was terrified about, because seeing the tunnels leading to Fjalltindr had been bad. This would be far worse.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Bjorn said from where he stood at my left. “I won’t fault you.”
“I’ll fault me.” I squared my shoulders. “I lived it, which means that I can watch it.”
I had to. Needed to see what everyone else had seen that had caused this newfound fear of me. Needed to see what Bjorn had seen.
The crowd stirred, parting to allow Snorri and Ylva to escort Steinunn to the dais.
Carrying a simple drum, the skald wore a dress of crimson wool trimmed with fur, and on her head she wore a headpiece designed to look like a raven, midnight feathers cascading down her shoulders and back. Its eyes were formed of polished glass, its claws and beak of silver, and I swore the cursed thing stared me down as she turned to face the crowd.
Snorri and Ylva retreated to chairs set at the rear of the dais, and with no preamble, Steinunn parted her lips and began to beat the drum she held in her hands.
A deep, huffing chant spilled over the crowd. My heart immediately began throbbing in rhythm, anticipation and trepidation filling my chest in equal parts because I felt her power. Felt the magic of her voice drawing me back to the moment we’d flowed down the mountainside toward Grindill, vengeance burning in our hearts.
And then Steinunn began to sing.
The breath I sucked in was ragged, the air not seeming to reach my lungs. For I didn’t just hear the story in the lyrics.
I saw it. I tasted it. I smelled it.
Not through my own eyes, but through the eyes of all who had been with me, the perspective shifting from person to person, giving me a strange sense of omniscience. Like…like I was seeing events as the gods did.
I watched myself, mouth drawn tight and amber eyes bright with fear, my gait stilted and pained. All around me, there were gasps as those in the crowd felt an echo of what each step had been like for me, and I flinched.
But it was nothing compared to the lance of agony that struck me when the vision focused on Bodil’s face.
I couldn’t do this.
Couldn’t watch her die again.
Bjorn’s hand closed over mine, squeezing. Holding me steady as my courage wavered.
Born-in-Fire, I reminded myself as I watched him cut down the tree. You were born in fire, you can do this.
The vision intensified, Steinunn’s song replaced with our labored breaths as we carried the tree. The screams of panic. Snorri’s shouted commands.
The impact of the ram against the gate. The perspective shifted.
Now we looked down from above, and I realized with a start that Steinunn had spoken to the survivors of our attack. That I was now seeing from their eyes.
Feeling their terror.
My breath came in too-rapid pants as the hands belonging to the eyes helped lift a vat of boiling water. They poured it over the wall, crying in despair as it exploded off the magic of my shield.
Despair that was tempered as a tall and hooded figure approached, face hidden, lightning crackling between their palms.
It was coming. My heart was chaos in my chest, hammering against my ribs.
I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t watch.
Wrenching my hand from Bjorn’s grip, I clapped my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut. But I couldn’t drown out Steinunn’s magic and the vision only grew in intensity. Sobbing, I watched myself trip. Watched Bodil drop her shield to catch me.
Saw that the thin lightning bolt flung by the child of Thor hadn’t been intended for her. It had been intended for me.
I hadn’t thought it possible for my guilt to cut worse than it already did, but watching the bolt burn through Bodil undid me.
My knees buckled, and it was only because Bjorn caught me that I didn’t fall. He held me against his chest, arms wrapped around me even as I watched myself from his eyes as he dragged me away from Bodil. Felt his panic as I wrenched from his grip and then his awe as I used my shield to deflect the lightning into the wall of Grindill.
Saw the moment when he met my gaze. And didn’t recognize the woman he saw.
I stiffened, shock radiating through me at the mask of cold fury on my face, eyes that burned with crimson fire revealed only for a heartbeat before I twisted to race through the shattered wall and into the fortress.
Perspective shifted to those whose home I’d just invaded, and tears dried on my cheeks even as horror filled my stomach as I watched myself slaughter all who crossed my path, my expression wrath incarnate. It didn’t matter who they were, whether they crossed blades with me or tried to flee, I cut them all down. Bjorn fought at my heels, killing any who tried to stab me in the back even as he screamed my name. Begged me to stop. Yet I kept going.
Kept killing.
I watched the final confrontation with Gnut through the eyes of his men. Blood and gore coated me, and with my teeth bared, I seemed more monster than woman. A shudder of relief coursed through me as Bjorn’s axe severed Gnut’s head from his shoulders, and Steinunn’s song drifted away on the wind.
I pried my fingers from their death grip on Bjorn’s shirt and turned to see the crowd shifting and shaking their heads as the vision cleared from their minds. Ylva wrapped her arms around herself, her face a mask of revulsion that did not fade as she looked at me. Snorri alone seemed unaffected, moving to place a hand on Steinunn’s shoulder as he shouted, “Saga foretold that the shield maiden’s name would be born in fire! Foretold that she would unite all of Skaland under the one who controlled her fate. And now you have seen what it means to defy the will of the gods!”
The crowd turned to me, not with respect but with fear. “Tomorrow, Steinunn will leave Grindill to spread word of our battle fame. She will travel through Skaland, moving from village to village, and in her wake our people will come in droves to swear oaths to me, their king,” Snorri roared, drawing their attention back to him. “And those who fight at my side will be sung about for generations to come!”
The crowd cheered, and drums began to pound. Jugs of mead were passed around as Snorri opened Gnut’s stores to reward his followers. I stared blankly at the festivities, horror anchoring me in place. This couldn’t have been what I’d done. It wasn’t how I remembered it. In the moment, it had felt like justice—like I’d been righting a wrong.
Like I’d been punishing those who’d taken Bodil from me.
Bile burned my throat. Afraid I’d vomit in front of everyone, I twisted on my heel and muttered, “I need air.”
I walked aimlessly, needing to escape the crowd, needing to be away from those who looked at me as if I were a monster. Who would follow me not out of respect but out of fear. Vaguely, I felt Bjorn on my heels, a silent shadow watching over me. My shoes slipped as I skidded to a stop and turned to face him. “It’s a lie. I don’t know if Snorri made her do it or if those she spoke to lied, but that wasn’t how it happened. The people I killed…they were the enemy. They were attacking me. They…” I trailed off as I took in the look on Bjorn’s face—exhaustion and grief.
“A skald’s magic can’t depict lies.” His voice was low. “No matter what people told Steinunn, the magic of her song reveals only the truth as seen by the gods.”
My lip quivered. “Is…is that what you saw, then?” Bjorn’s silence was the answer I needed.
“I don’t know how you can stand to look at me,” I whispered. Spinning away from him, I took one step before he caught me around the middle and pulled me into a narrow space between buildings.
“I saw you lose yourself.” His breath was hot against my face, his forehead pressed to mine, hands gripping my hips to hold me in place. “To grief. To the battle.”
I wanted to accept his excuses, but I had seen how my eyes had burned red, nothing about them human. “What if I didn’t lose myself, Bjorn? What if I found myself?”
Lifting my chin to meet his shadowed gaze, I whispered, “Since the moment I learned of your mother’s foretelling, I’ve questioned how my magic could unite a nation. What if this is it? What if…what if my power is fear?”
His fingers tightened on my hips, his body pressing against mine. “You have the power to change your fate, Freya. You can leave. We can leave. Let me take you away from all of this. Force the Norns to alter our futures and to Helheim with everything my mother says.”
We can leave. A tremor ran through me at what he was offering. Not just a chance to escape this madness, but to do it with him by my side. “You’d leave?”
“Yes.”
“But…” I swallowed hard. “You’d be giving up so much. Your family. Your people. The chance for vengeance against Harald. The chance to rule Skaland.”
“I don’t want to rule,” he said. “I want you.”
Bjorn’s mouth claimed mine then, one hand abandoning my hip to tangle in my loose hair. I whimpered, allowing him to part my lips, our tongues entwining. My body’s reaction to his touch was swift and fierce because it was always lurking beneath the surface, always wanting.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeding that need with the feel of his hair on my skin and the hard muscles of his shoulders beneath my nails. Liquid heat throbbed in my core, and I pressed my hips to his, desperate to drown the terror threatening to consume me. “Prove it.”
I felt as much as heard his intake of breath, and I buried my face in his neck, biting at his throat. “Prove that I’m what you want.” I ran my hand down his chest, past the hard muscles of his stomach, and cupped his cock. He groaned, and I stroked the thick length, liquid heat rushing to my core. “Claim me.”
“Freya, not like this.” He caught my wrist, pinning it to the wall of the building. “Not here.”
Frustration flooded me. “Why not?” I demanded, kissing him, biting him hard enough to taste blood, his groan of pain and pleasure spiking my desire. “Is it because of your father?”
“Freya—”
“Because he’s never had me. Never will have me.”
Shock broke through the haze of desire, as I’d sworn an oath not to reveal the deal Snorri and I had made. But it was as though someone else had control of my tongue—someone willing to say anything to get what she wanted. Panic rose in my chest, but she had too much control and shoved it away.
She kissed Bjorn, hard enough that our teeth clicked. “Our marriage is a lie, a farce.” She raked the nails of my free hand down his back. “We made a deal, Ylva and I. That he’d never touch me and that in exchange, I’d lie to everyone. But the gods know the truth, Bjorn. I am a free woman.”
Never had a greater lie been told, but she told it anyway.
“Then leave with me.” His hand slid up my ribs, cupping my breast. “Right now. Once we’re somewhere safe, I’ll give you everything you want, Freya. I swear it.”
She wanted to say yes. But beneath the want, the covetousness consuming me, a more familiar voice screamed, You can’t leave them!
“My family.” The protest came between desperate kisses, my hands roving down his body. “Snorri will make them pay if I run.”
“Then perhaps they should have treated you better.” Bjorn kissed my jaw, my throat. “Geir built his own barrow.”
He’s right, the new voice whispered to me. All they ever did was use you.
But the old voice, the familiar voice, pleaded, Your protection shouldn’t have to be earned.
“I can’t leave.” The words croaked out, my throat trying to strangle them and my tongue wanting to twist them into something else.
“Then we can’t do this.” Bjorn pulled away, retreating a step so that his back pressed against the building opposite. “I won’t do it, Freya. I won’t skulk around with you in the shadows, living every day a lie while I watch you be changed by my father’s ambition. I’ll have all of you or none of you.”
Fury boiled in my chest, the purest form of rage that he’d deny me what I wanted. “If you want me free of your father’s shadow, perhaps you should find your balls and get rid of him yourself.”
Bjorn recoiled.
“Can’t stomach it?” I hissed, part of me buried deep inside, repulsed by the words escaping my lips.
He was silent for a long moment, then said, “Your eyes are red, Freya. Same as they were when you attacked Grindill.”
Burning with crimson fire.
Nausea and revulsion drowned my anger, and I staggered a few paces away before dropping to my knees. “I’m sorry.” I dug my nails into the dirt.
Bjorn’s voice was full of unease as he asked, “What exactly is it that you want me to do?”
Kill Snorri, the new voice hissed. Challenge him and take everything. I shook my head sharply. “That’s not what I think. That’s not what I want.”
“Freya…?”
I could hear his confusion, his concern.
Oh gods, I was arguing with myself.
Geir’s voice filled my head, repeating mad bitch over and over until I breathed, “There’s something wrong with me, Bjorn.”
I felt his heat as he knelt beside me.
“There’s something in me,” I whispered, staring blindly into the darkness. “Someone.”
“It’s Hlin.” Bjorn cupped my face with his hands, searching my eyes. The red must have faded, for he relaxed. “I know how it feels, Freya. I know what it’s
