The Beholder

by Anna Bright

  “I can make an exception,” I laughed, heart stuttering clumsily, feeling suddenly that I’d make any number of exceptions for his sake.

  As he took my hand, I tried to ignore the need pressing against my skin, the worry about my father and the Imperiya whispering reminders of the consequences should I fail to secure his proposal.

  And the more I let Torden’s words and his smile drown out that voice, the more I believed I could truly fall for him.

  I knew I was changing as I spent time with Torden. But somehow, it didn’t feel like change under pressure. Or if it did, it was pressure like sunlight and rain and soil.

  It felt like growth. It felt good.

  Hours and days raced by like clouds over the Lysefjord as we hiked, ate, picked strawberries in the woods like children playing a massive game of hide-and-seek. The others didn’t care what we did as long as we were together, and much as it shocked me, I didn’t get tired of their company.

  What surprised me more, though, was that none of the boys seemed to notice how close Skop and Anya were becoming within the larger sphere of our group. I said nothing, since they were only talking. Until, one day, they weren’t.

  We tramped through the woods in twos and threes. Sweat beaded on my forehead and under my clothes, though the air was cool.

  “Cloudberries are my favorite,” Torden said, “but they grow later in the summer.”

  “What do they taste like?”

  “Sour. But they are delicious with cream.”

  “Yes, heaven forbid you sweeten anything,” I grumbled. I switched my bucket to my left hand. Its handle left a sulky red crease in my right palm.

  Torden nudged me. “If you want honey, all you need is to ask.”

  “It’s never on the table. I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “That is why our teeth are so strong. The drengs aren’t allowed sweets.” He grinned at me meaningfully. “Well, most sweets.”

  I laughed. “Torden, that was a terrible pun.”

  He stepped in front of me, eyes warm, only inches away. “Then why can’t you stop smiling?”

  Just then, I caught movement in my periphery. I flushed and turned, expecting to see Anya or one of the other boys running over to say they’d found more fruit.

  I did not expect to see Skop’s mouth fixed on Anya’s, her hands trapped in his shiny black hair.

  But my mortified giggle broke off when Torden’s face went abruptly dark. “Anya!”

  They pulled apart at once. Skop reddened and grinned good-naturedly. But Anya’s fair face went ashen, blue veins standing out in her forehead.

  Anya knows what is expected of her, Torden had said.

  I thought of Bear pretending to be my guard as we fell for one another, of Captain Lang’s advice and Sir Perrault’s threats.

  How well I knew the distance between knowing and doing what was expected of me.

  “Skop, we need to speak.” Torden’s voice was grave. He emptied all the berries I’d picked into one of his buckets, lifting it with ease, and brushed my hair off my shoulder. “I will find you later,” he said to me somberly, and together he and Skop made for the fortress, leaving Anya and me faltering beneath a dense silence.

  “Please, do not say anything to the others,” she said heavily.

  “I wouldn’t.” I shook my head. “But—why?” I’d overheard Aleksei and Torden’s conversation, but I didn’t understand it at all.

  She fingered the end of her braid, blue eyes faraway. “Because if Asgard’s sons are its walls, its daughters are its bridges. This choice was never mine to make.”

  I’d cared for Peter. If he’d loved me the same way, there would never have been any question of sending me away—of forcing me to choose someone else.

  Would there?

  Doubt ran a cold finger down my arm, and goose bumps rose over my skin.

  Maybe it was paranoid. Maybe it was wishful thinking. But for the first time I wondered if Peter had turned me down of his own volition, or if someone else had been involved and made the decision for him. For me.

  Fear of Alessandra and all she had done to banish me sang again through my blood, a strident, eerie song. Fear for Daddy. Fear for Potomac.

  Maybe Anya and I were in more similar situations than I’d thought.

  Anya didn’t go back to the fortress with me. I sat on her bed in her empty room, peeled the endpaper from the back binding, and switched on the radio.

  I needed my godmother’s familiar voice in this strange place, her comfort, her guidance.

  Daddy needed me. And I needed to know what to do next.

  But there was only silence from the other end, only an empty hiss like a foreign language I couldn’t understand.

  Dinner was awful.

  Anya said she was sick and didn’t feel like coming down, so I pretended to believe her and got ready alone. Skop didn’t wait to walk me down; he, Lang, and Cobie were deep in conversation when I reached Valaskjálf.

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?” Cobie asked as I passed them.

  Lang shook his head. “Soon, I hope.”

  I didn’t know what they were talking about. They didn’t acknowledge me as I walked past, and I tried not to show that it stung.

  I thought of Lang’s absence in England, of his search for the woman he’d finally found at the ball, and wondered what he was up to now.

  None of Torden’s brothers mentioned their sister’s absence over dinner. Fredrik and Bragi hardly spoke at all, and Hermódr was distracted, sitting nearer their father than usual.

  I leaned near to Torden. “Can we talk? What is going on?”

  “Hermódr and Pappa are discussing a trade agreement with Sápmi,” he said, a little enviously. “Most of us are better soldiers than politicians, but not Hermódr.”

  “And Fredrik and Bragi?” I asked. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Fredrik is angry at me for warning Skop off. And Bragi—well. This is hard for him.” Torden rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m more concerned about how Skop is handling things.”

  I swallowed. Down beside Cobie, Skop was deeper into his cups than I’d ever seen him, the pitcher of mead at his side vanishing with startling rapidity. His voice rose and fell, sloshy with alcohol.

  He wasn’t the only person in the hall who seemed to be getting carried away—he wasn’t even the only one at Alfödr’s table. Perrault was pink in the face, giggling to himself, and even Bragi looked a little glassy-eyed; mead flowed in Valaskjálf, stronger than what the rest of us were used to. I wasn’t worried until I heard Skop say something about Anya.

  I thought of Skop taking my hand in Winchester as I crumbled in front of Bear and the court. Now it was time for me to look after him.

  I caught Cobie’s eye and nodded in our first mate’s direction. As we helped him from the table, I smiled wanly at Torden. “Family first.”

  He nodded, a little rueful.

  “Torden’s in love with you,” Skop mumbled as he staggered from the hall. “Lucky you. Lucky yours is free,” he slurred. “Why is yours free when mine isn’t?”

  “Skop,” I said gently, “between you and me, only one of us is actually free. And it’s not me.”

  “Selah.” Skop sighed, eyes mournful. “I’m so sorry.”

  And then he threw up on my shoes.

  45

  Back in his room, I murmured vague encouragement as Skop evacuated his stomach into a bucket, rambling between heaves.

  “Is Lang mad? Is it why”—he hiccupped—“is it why because we’re under orders?”

  I glanced at Cobie, but she just shrugged.

  “I love her. He’s the worst. ‘Stick to the mission, Skop.’ He’s one to talk,” he slurred. Skop poked at me, pushing his index finger right into my forehead.

  I stared at Cobie, wide-eyed. Mission? “What is he—?” I began.

  “Okay. Okay, that’s enough,” Cobie announced, swatting Skop’s hand away. We both jumped as the tiny room’s door s
wung open. Then Cobie and I sighed in relief.

  Skop lifted tired eyes to the doorway. “Hi, Lang.”

  “Anything?” Cobie asked.

  Lang pressed his lips together, darting a glance at me, and shook his head. “I went to Valaskjálf, and they told me you had already left.” He eyed the bucket and my discarded shoes, grimacing. “I can take over from here. You and Selah wait outside while I get him changed.”

  Out in the corridor, Cobie wilted against the wall, half-heartedly beating her head against the stones.

  “Tired?” I asked pointedly.

  She closed her eyes with a groan. “I just knew Anya was going to do this to him.”

  It was Aleksei’s gossip all over again. “Don’t say that. You don’t know her.”

  “And you’ve known her for a week,” Cobie said sharply. Then she opened her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. That was harsh.”

  “You’re always kind of harsh.”

  She cracked her knuckles. “Yeah, but I’m not usually unfair.”

  “You should give Anya a chance,” I said quietly. “She’s not toying with him.”

  “You give out a lot of chances.” She paused. “As long as we’re, you know, analyzing each other.”

  I shrugged, grinning thinly. “I gamble on forgiving people as often as I can.”

  You didn’t let Bear explain himself, said a critical voice inside. For the first time, I thought of the sadness in his face as I’d left him behind, and felt a little guilty.

  “I’m counting on that,” came a low voice from the end of the hall.

  My head shot up. “Torden.”

  “I came to see if you were all right,” he said simply. “May I speak with you?”

  I nodded but didn’t move until Cobie gently shoved me in his direction. “Do I smell like barf?” I hissed in her ear.

  Cobie gave a tiny shake of her head as Torden led me around a corner, listening for a long moment before he spoke. “I do not want us to be overheard.”

  “Just—explain.” I flopped against a wooden door post. “Anya was miserable today. When I asked her why you hauled Skop off, she just said something about Asgard and bridges and walls.”

  “Anya cannot be with him.” Torden ran a hand through his hair, avoiding my eyes. “Pappa will not allow it.”

  “Why not?” I demanded. “Skop’s steady and smart and good.”

  “The konge says a time will come when—” Torden paused, his jaw tight. “When we will need Anya to marry and forge peace outside our borders as she has within our halls.”

  The words were noble. But all they meant was that Anya was a resource, not a person.

  I wondered if the Council thought of me any differently. Or if it was any better to be sent away simply because my stepmother loathed me. At least Anya’s marriage might serve Asgard, help keep her family safe.

  But she deserved to choose for herself. I deserved to choose for myself.

  I frowned. “Is she engaged?”

  Torden shook his head. “But she will be, and likely soon.”

  “To whom?”

  “That has not been decided.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “So this engagement is still just an event—it isn’t even a person yet. Torden, they care about each other.”

  “I didn’t say I thought it was fair,” he said quietly. “Pappa knows nothing, and no one will be concerned about Skop and Anya talking at dinner and dancing at balls if they stay close to the rest of us. But . . .” He trailed off. “You have to understand, we are not supposed to be too private. Pappa says we belong to each other. To Asgard and to Norge.”

  “So it’s better if their flirting means nothing?” I asked. “He’d rather she just use people so he can use her when he needs to?”

  Torden looked away. “My father means well.”

  “Were Bragi and Anya really in love?” I suddenly asked.

  Torden’s mouth fell open.

  “Aleksei told me, but I’d already—”

  “Don’t talk about that.” There was no anger in his tone, only desperation. “That is a secret.”

  “Is it because they were as good as brother and sister?” I asked, curious.

  Torden shook his head, weary. “No. No one worries about that; they are not related by blood, and our communities are small. Besides, families take on wards all the time, and these things are bound to happen when people grow up so close. Just—please.” He took my hand. “I don’t want anyone else punished. Bragi never saw her as a sister, but that is what Anya is to me, just as Skop is your brother.”

  I massaged my forehead, thinking of Anya and Skop kissing in the woods, so lost together they’d forgotten they weren’t alone.

  What would it be like to kiss Torden that way?

  My stomach swooped.

  Bear’s kiss had been a single stolen moment with a forbidden boy, like something out of a daydream. As fleeting and dubious in its reality as my imagined relationship with Peter, perfect Peter with kindness in his heart and laurel in his hair.

  I had never seen how distant Peter had been from me before. I saw it now when I felt how little space remained between Torden and me.

  When I looked up at Torden, I saw a boy I was learning at close range, in a deeply specific way. The burdens he carried. His love for his brothers.

  It was difficult. And I knew it was real.

  “What if we’re caught down here? In—private?” I stumbled over his word. “What then?”

  Torden came a step nearer. I pressed myself harder against the wall behind me, the cold stone raising goose bumps over my skin. He put a hand on my bare upper arm. “Anya and Skop are not supposed to be together,” he said, voice husky. “But we . . .” He trailed off again, thumb skimming back and forth over my shoulder.

  I pushed my lungs open, pulled in air and courage. “We what?”

  “I am terrible at this.” Torden shook his head. “But I would face worse than an older brother for a chance with you.” He slipped his hand down my arm to twine his callused fingers through my own. That chaste gesture alone made me dizzy, but I reached for his other hand.

  “I don’t have any brothers,” I said faintly. Torden smiled, eyes burning.

  But as he bent, pressing his rough cheek to mine, a door somewhere nearby snapped closed, and Lang’s voice split the silence.

  Hidden though we were around the corner, we jumped apart, the spell broken, our breathing ragged. “I should probably get back.” I fiddled with my shirt cuff, unable to look at him. “Skop’s fine, but he’s going to have a headache tomorrow.”

  But Torden shook his head. “I have to make this up to you. Did you mean what you said, about going down to the fjord one morning?”

  I stilled. “For the sunrise?”

  “I can be outside your door first thing tomorrow.” Torden’s eyes were guarded but so serious, so earnest.

  “Can you miss your run?”

  “I’ll run double the day after tomorrow. Besides,” he said, “I never break a promise.”

  I bit my lip at the light burning in his eyes.

  I didn’t want to just watch the sun rise with this boy. I didn’t want to wait alone for dawn through the long hours of the night. I wanted to leave together, right then, to spend the night talking under the stars wheeling over the Lysefjord, coaxing truths out of him until the sun rose and kindled the black sky.

  But Torden wouldn’t abandon a friend, and I wouldn’t, either. “I can’t wait.”

  When I stood up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek, it felt like standing on solid ground.

  Lang bid Torden a distracted good night when we met him around the corner, and the prins left me with a small smile.

  I turned to the captain, hoping my flush wasn’t visible in the dark. “Skop?” I asked. “Cobie?”

  “Cobie went to check in on Perrault,” Lang said. “And Skop’s fine, but I’m going to stay with him, just in case.”

  “Wait here.” I slipped into Anya’s darkened
room and returned with a pile of fur rugs, pushing them into his arms. “Take these. His room’s cold.”

  “Thanks.” Lang rubbed one red-rimmed eye. A long eyelash fell onto the soft, shadowed hollow above his cheekbone.

  “I’d do anything for Skop.” I shrugged and gently plucked the fallen lash from his tired skin, blowing it lightly off my fingers and wishing for a clear dawn.

  Lang opened his thin lips as if to reply, but for a long moment only our breath disturbed the hallway’s silence. “And for him, too?” The corners of his mouth and his eyes were drawn down, intent and bewildered.

  I didn’t have to ask who he meant.

  I swallowed and stepped backward into the dark of Anya’s room. “Good night, Lang.”

  “Good night, Selah,” he finally said.

  I closed the door behind me.

  46

  My nerves roared to life with Torden’s arrival in the small hours of the morning. I dressed, trembling, in Anya’s still-dark room, wringing my hands as though my fretfulness could be shaken off like water.

  But he wrapped me in his arms when I stepped into the hallway, the scruff on his chin catching at my hair. Close against his chest, the soap-and-water scent of his skin and his steady, certain breathing softened the jagged edges of my anxiety. “God morgen,” he whispered.

  Out by the stables, Torden set me on his palomino, Gullfaxi, before swinging into the saddle himself. With no reins to cling to, I clasped my hands tentatively around his waist. “Do you mind if I—?”

  I felt the moment his heart began to thunder beneath my hands. “Of course not. Hold on to me.”

  We rode to a skinny stretch of flat rock between the Lysefjord and the base of Mount Kjerag. I was speechless, awestruck; bound to the mountainside, the trunk of the great tree was half the length of a football field, its twisted roots each thick as the body of one of Alfödr’s horses. “Is all of this . . . ?”

  “Yes.” Torden dismounted, then helped me down, his hands lingering a moment when he’d caught me around my waist. “Yggdrasil.” He led me along the narrow bank, the only sounds the water and the birds and, far off, the deep rumble of Alfödr’s drengs and thegns preparing for their morning run.