Viking Conspiracy

by S. T. Bende

  “Saga.” She wrung her hands together. “Erik and Raynor have been at each other for a long time. They need to work this out between themselves. If they can’t, then Valkyris . . . then our tribe . . .”

  I waited, but she seemed to have run out of words.

  “Just wait,” she urged. “Please.”

  “Fine. But I am going to talk to him eventually,” I said quietly. “He needs to know he’s not alone.”

  “He does know that.” Helene’s eyes flashed. “My cousin finally has someone who challenges him in all the right ways. You’re true partners.”

  My heart warmed.

  “Shoot, I need to go.” Helene glanced at the sky. “I have to make one final adjustment to the ballroom. I’ll see you soon?”

  “See you.” I reached out to squeeze her hands. “And thanks, Helene. For everything.”

  She smiled. “What are friends for?”

  Helene scampered out the door, returning with Ingrid, Vidia, and Katrin a few hours later. By the time we’d finished dressing and primping, the sun sat low in the sky, and the mountains surrounding the island had faded to a deep purple. The first stars of the night burst through the dusk as I put down my comb and stepped back to appreciate the hairstyles we’d spent the past hour crafting. While my friends had swept their hair up in intricate crowns of braids, I’d chosen to leave mine loose. Long, golden curls tumbled down my back, my face framed by a narrow headband of a braid. I’d added a silky ribbon in the exact shade of my dress, and its shimmery blue cascaded down my back.

  “You all look absolutely beautiful.” Helene stood in front of us, her purple gown a near match for her indigo eyes. “Saga, that dress is just . . . show us again.”

  I twirled in a slow circle, laughing at the appreciative oohs that erupted from my friends. My dress was pretty amazing. Magda had crafted it from a delicate, blue fabric in a shade slightly darker than my eyes. It had thick straps that hung off my shoulders, and a deep V neckline that was so low, my grandmother would have called it “immodest.” It definitely made the most of my cleavage, showcasing a feature I’d yet to display in my billowy apron-dresses and loose training blouses. I self-consciously tugged the neckline up. Maybe it was too much . . .

  “Stop it.” Ingrid readjusted my dress, putting my assets on maximum display. “Erik will thank me later.”

  “You’ll thank her too.” Helene waggled her eyebrows.

  Heat crept up my neck. “Helene!”

  Ingrid laughed as she smoothed the fabric along the narrow waistline, fluffed the voluminous skirt, and stepped back. “That thing is seriously to die for.”

  “Magda outdid herself,” Helene praised.

  “I love it,” I agreed.

  “It’s perfect for you,” Vidia said.

  “Thanks.” I smiled. “So, are we all ready? Should we go downstairs?”

  Erik had told me he’d meet me in the ballroom. Apparently, that was the norm—guys weren’t encouraged to visit the girls’ rooms, except to help us carry heavy things, because chivalry. And since my Viking was the picture of proper, he’d declined my invitation to pick me up at my door.

  Bless.

  “Almost. There’s one more thing.” Helene picked up five sparkling flowers. “These are enchanted with älva dust for good luck. They’re meant to bring the fulfillment of all your wishes.”

  She handed a glittery bloom to each of us, then pinned her own to the front of her dress.

  “So, yours is going to kick off your courtship with Zaan?” Katrin teased.

  “Naturally.” Helene flicked an invisible piece of lint from her shoulder. “What’s yours going to do, Katrin?”

  Katrin’s eyes darted to Vidia. “I just want to dance,” she said lightly.

  Oh, God. Dancing. I’d been to enough Syttende Mai and Midsummer celebrations with my family to know traditional Norse folk dances were complicated. And despite the fact that my mother had danced en pointe, I’d failed to inherit her natural grace. After being kicked out of my third ballet class, my poor family had finally signed me up for archery lessons.

  “I’ve never been to a ball before,” Vidia said quietly.

  “Me neither,” Ingrid added. “Is there a story behind this one?”

  “Freia began the winter ball as a way to celebrate making it through the harshest time of the year,” Katrin said. “Winters are dark here, and Freia wanted to mark the halfway point with an evening of light.”

  “Ooh, you guys are going to love the fairy lights!” Helene clapped her hands together.

  “So, every year we dance, and eat, and forget our studies and work and stresses—we just come together for a night of fun,” Katrin said.

  “Which means we need to get downstairs and get started!” Helene waved us toward the door. “Come on. I don’t want us to be late. Oh! And, Saga?” She turned to pin me with an impish smile. “You’re going to love the arches.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ll see.” Helene winked, skipping from the room and leaving me wondering what in the world she was talking about.

  But she disappeared around the corner, leaving me to follow my friends out the door and down the stairs. The ball was waiting.

  Here we go.

  Chapter 9

  THE BALLROOM TOOK MY breath away. It had always been elegant, with its high ceilings, sparkling chandeliers, and enormous windows that overlooked the moonlit snow. But tonight, it was absolutely magical. Helene and her team had gone all out, decorating every conceivable surface with flowers, candles, and a fine golden glitter. Tall, silver vases stood on each table, each bearing a ball of all-white blooms, while candles flickered in a circle of votives around their bases. Wreaths hung from the top of each window and connected to each other via a swath of greenery wrapped in twinkle lights. A quartet played in one corner of the room, their instruments ranging from a lyre to a smallish harp played by a serene-looking woman. Tables lined the edges of the room, each set with rich, cream tablecloths and holding ample buffets of food, while two ornate chairs sat on a raised dais at the front. Though the chairs remained empty, I had no doubt they belonged to Freia and Halvar—who, as heads of the tribe, would have the honor of performing the first dance.

  Dance . . . yikes. I crossed my fingers, sending a silent prayer to God, the gods, and any other deities who might be listening. I really didn’t want to embarrass myself tonight . . . or out myself because I didn’t know a single Viking dance move.

  “Well?” Helene’s voice pulled me out of my worries. “What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful.” Ingrid exhaled beside me. “I’ve never seen anything so . . . so . . .”

  “Whimsical? Elegant? Meticulously planned?” Helene offered.

  “Sparkly,” Ingrid finished. “Every single thing is covered in candles or glitter or is somehow glowing. How is that even possible?”

  “We had access to a nearly unlimited stash of älva dust,” Helene admitted. “Some of us went a little wild.”

  “A little?” Erik’s deep tenor caught me by surprise. I’d been so distracted by the ballroom, I hadn’t seen him come in.

  “Hey, you.” I turned around.

  “Hei hei.” Erik took my hand in his and bowed deeply. He pressed his lips to my fingertips before lifting his gaze to meet my eyes. “You look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

  “So do you,” I murmured. And I meant it. Erik wore what seemed to be an early version of a bunad—a traditional Norwegian outfit, complete with silver-blue vest, navy jacket and three-quarter-length pants with knee socks. The cuffs of his pants and jacket were accented with ornate silver buttons, not unlike the ones men in my time wore. Being from Minnesota, I’d seen outfits like it before—at the Syttende Mai and Midsummer celebrations I’d attended with Mormor. But I’d never seen one on an actual bearded, long-haired, card-carrying Viking. Erik took the whole Norse god look to next-level hotness. I mean, wow.

  “Good evening, ladies.” Axel appeared at Erik’s side,
wearing an outfit similar to Erik’s. He’d tied his hair up in a bun, and he shot me a grin that made his dimple pop. “Saga, that dress is . . .” His low whistle made me blush.

  “Magda made it,” I said by way of explanation.

  “Ah, Magda.” Axel nodded sagely.

  “You know Magda?” Ingrid crossed her arms.

  “Nope.” Axel shrugged. “But Saga sounded impressed, so I went with it.”

  “Opportunist.” I laughed.

  “Shh!” Helene waved her hands. “The chieftess and chieftain are here! Quick, grab a drink.”

  “Huh? Oh!” As if on command, waiters swarmed the room, holding trays filled with goblets. Erik swiped two glasses, handing one to me before moving my free hand so it rested atop his forearm. I sniffed at the liquid inside my cup. Please don’t be mead.

  Erik arched a brow at me, and I shrugged. With a smile, he shifted us so we faced the front of the ballroom where his parents strode arm-in-arm along the dais. When they reached the twin chairs, they turned to address the room.

  “Velkommen,” Freia began, “to our annual winter ball.”

  A warm cheer erupted as Freia raised her goblet in greeting. “Every year, Valkyris gathers on this night to mark the passage of the darkest days of winter. Spring is nearly upon us, and soon we will be blessed with fertile crops, an abundance of livestock, and endless opportunities to spread our virtues throughout the northern territories.”

  “But tonight,” Halvar said, “we celebrate. We celebrate having made it through the worst of the darkness. We celebrate the friends who have strengthened our spirits over the past year, and those who will push us to be our best selves in the year ahead. And we celebrate Valkyris—her honor, her virtues, and her absolutely unyielding spirit.”

  “We celebrate the gift we have been given,” Freia continued, “living as we do in a civilization that is truly unique among the tribes. We celebrate the kindness, love, and camaraderie of Valkyris. And we celebrate you.” She lifted her cup again, and Halvar mirrored her movement. “Without you, our world would be a dimmer place. Thank you for shining your light in the darkness. For sharing your kindness with the world. Thank you for espousing all the best that Valkyris has to offer . . . and for challenging all of us to reach our highest potential. To you!”

  “To you,” Halvar echoed. “Skål!”

  “Skål,” the room repeated.

  Erik tapped his glass lightly against mine. “Skål, min kjære.”

  “Cheers,” I said. I lifted my goblet to my lips and held my breath.

  Not mead. Not mead.

  My heart soared as a sweet taste coated my tongue.

  It’s not mead!

  Erik chuckled beside me. “You should see your face right now,” he murmured.

  “I thought it was going to be mead,” I whispered back.

  “I’ve never seen you touch alcohol,” Erik said quietly. “And I assume you have your reasons, so I grabbed two of the juice goblets.”

  “Juice goblets?” I glanced around. Sure enough, everyone else in our group held a bronze goblet. Erik’s and mine were silver. They must have separated the drinks by color. “Oh. Wow, thanks.”

  “Thank you for wearing that dress.” Erik’s eyes moved from my face to the deep V of my neckline. “Thank you very much.”

  Oh. My. God.

  “Mmm-hmm,” I mumbled.

  Erik took my goblet from my hands and set it on a nearby table before sliding his arms around my waist. Heat surged through me, pinging around my body before settling in a pool in my lower abdomen.

  “I was thinking . . .” Erik lowered his forehead so it rested against mine, “. . . once everyone’s distracted with the dancing, maybe you and I could duck out of here and head to—”

  “Erik!” Helene hissed. “You’re up!”

  What?

  Erik wrenched his head away from mine to glare at his cousin. “I’m busy.”

  “Your parents.” Helene jerked her head to the front of the room. I followed her gaze to find a bemused-looking Freia and Halvar standing in the center of the dance floor.

  “Well?” Freia asked.

  Well, what?

  “Well . . .” Erik said slowly.

  Halvar cleared his throat. “As our heir has come of age, it is only fitting that he open the dancing with us this year. Erik? Would you and Saga kindly come to the floor?”

  Oh, God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. No.

  I was going to humiliate myself.

  “Right.” Erik shook his head. He reluctantly stepped back and offered me his arm.

  “No, thank you,” I whispered.

  “We have to,” he whispered back.

  “I don’t know your dances,” I hissed. Because I’m not from here. Or now.

  Erik blinked in recognition. A second later, he’d schooled his face into a relaxed grin. “Just follow my lead. I’m an excellent teacher.”

  I most certainly hoped so.

  I placed my forearm atop Erik’s and allowed him to lead me to the dance floor. I shot Freia the side-eye, but she seemed blissfully oblivious as she smiled up at Halvar. Erik grasped my hand in his and angled me so we stood side by side, facing his parents.

  Don’t blow this Saga. Also, breathe.

  The musicians began to play, and Freia, Halvar, and Erik all bowed. I hurriedly dipped my shoulders, and held tight to Erik’s hand. When he straightened, he gently nudged me with his elbow, pushing me away.

  What?

  Freia stepped to Halvar’s side, and I understood. Erik was guiding me.

  Here we go.

  I stepped out, then in when Erik tugged me gently back. We repeated the movement three times, mirroring his parents before Erik squeezed my hand and stood firmly in place.

  Oh, God. What does that mean?

  Freia and Halvar trotted forward, then backward. Erik nodded encouragingly, then picked up one foot and pulled my hand.

  Right.

  We copied his parents, trotting forward and back, then waiting for them to repeat the steps. After we’d done enough trotting, Erik nudged me away from him and held out his other hand. I did the same, and Freia and Halvar joined hands with us so we stood in a circle. When they trotted to the left, I followed suit, nearly tripping over Erik when everyone shifted directions and trotted right.

  “Just keep smiling,” Erik said through his teeth.

  “We’re supposed to smile?” I was literally the worst at this.

  “You’re doing fine,” he said without moving his lips. “Now, one hand in the center.”

  Everyone released hands, and brought their palms to the center of the circle. I quickly copied and followed their skip-steps in a clockwise direction. This time when we reversed, I was ready.

  “I’m getting it!” I whispered.

  “Go with my father,” Erik whispered back.

  Huh?

  Halvar wrapped one arm around my waist and spun me away from Erik. We skip-stepped for eight counts before returning to do another group circle. Then Erik pulled me away, repeating the eight-count in the opposite direction.

  Suddenly, Erik released me and hooked his arm through his father’s in a move that bore an uncanny resemblance to the square dance I’d learned in junior high P.E. class. Erik shot me a look over his shoulder that I figured meant, you’re next, and when he stepped back, I repeated the move with Freia. As I returned to Erik’s side, he wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned to the left while pushing me to the right. We swapped, and he spun me out and back. I was just along for the ride.

  We finished the dance by holding hands with his parents and doing another four clockwise circles before stepping back and bowing.

  The whole thing was over and done in less than two minutes, but it was the single greatest victory of my time in Vikingdom. I, Saga Skånstad, had danced. Not only danced, but Viking danced. And not embarrassed myself while Viking dancing. It would be a day long remembered—at least by me.

  The guests burst into a roun
d of polite applause, and Erik leaned over to whisper in my ear. “See? No big deal.”

  “It was a huge deal,” I whispered. “I don’t dance.”

  Erik’s lips brushed against my ear as he said, “You do with me.”

  My pulse quickened as he pulled me to his side. Wrapping one arm around my waist, he nodded at his parents and guided me toward one of the big windows.

  Outside, the moon illuminated the lightly falling snow, and I marveled at the expanse of white that stretched all the way to the ocean. While the rest of Valkyris filled the dance floor, Erik tugged my back to his chest and held me against him.

  “Sorry about that,” he murmured. “They didn’t tell me.”

  “A heads up would have been good.” I shivered as Erik brushed his lips against my neck.

  “Mmm.” He slid his hand across my stomach and pulled me closer. “How about I make it up to you. Walk with me?”

  “Of course.”

  Erik led me away from the window and out of the ballroom. We slipped out of a side door into a greenery-filled courtyard where only a handful of snowflakes now fell from the sky. Trellises marked a pathway from the castle to the frozen fountain, the frosted branches illuminated with a sea of fairy lights. Tall votives stood at three-foot intervals along the snow-covered ground, protecting pillar candles from the light wind, while encased lanterns hung from a series of flower-covered arches along the path. They must have been the ones Helene had mentioned. They were gorgeous.

  “I asked my cousin to create an outdoor space.” Erik laced his fingers through mine and strolled into the snow. “She assured me it would be warm. Was she correct, or shall I give you my coat?”

  I quickly scanned my bare arms. Despite the snow on the ground, and the icicles hanging from the castle ledges, I wasn’t the slightest bit cold. “I don’t understand. How is this possible?”

  “Helene was given access to an abundance of älva dust,” Erik explained. “She also enchanted the space to do this. Belyse.”

  At his word, the courtyard lit up with thousands of tiny sparkling lights. It looked as if the entire space had been coated in a fine sheet of glowing glitter.