by Anna Bright
Alfödr missed the pained pinch of Bragi’s mouth, but not the joy that lit Skop’s face. “Not planned?” he roared, striding toward her. “The fortress was empty but for the pair of you! I did not raise you a liar or a lovesick girl, to grow faint of heart over a boy. You are a shield-maiden and a prinsessa of Varsinais-Suomi, but tonight you have disgraced both your peoples.”
A furious blue vein stood out on Anya’s pale forehead. “I did not—we—” She broke off, eyes wide, nostrils flared.
I burst from my hiding place. “What is going on?”
A dozen pairs of eyes cut my way. “Seneschal-elect, this has nothing to do with you,” Muninn croaked gravely, creaking forward on aged joints as if to block me from the hall.
I nearly backed down, but Anya’s lips began to tremble. I steeled myself. “Skop is in Potomac’s employ, so it certainly does.”
“Very well.” Alfödr glared, stomping toward the Beholder crew. “Your first mate and my daughter were alone in his room. Alone!”
It explained Anya’s absence, and Skop’s. I ground my teeth. So reckless.
Torden had warned Skop what his father would do. He’d known what he risked.
And yet Alfödr’s hypocrisy gnawed at me. He had eight children by six different women, and no one had called him a disgrace to Asgard. At least Dronning Rihttá’s moral qualms might be sincere. The king was only afraid his bargaining chip had been sullied.
“Is this true?” I whispered to Skop, hardly moving my lips as I took my place beside them. “Is it just hearsay? Please tell me there’s some circumstance they’re leaving out.”
“It’s quite simple.” Huginn impaled me with his sharp blue stare. “We received information. They were found together.”
I crossed my arms, steeling myself. “So you were informed,” I fired back. “Have you been spying on my people? On your guests?”
Muninn shook his head. “We cannot disclose that.”
“Konge Alfödr, First Mate Koniag is a good man,” Lang offered earnestly. “His intentions were honorable. They were only talking.”
The king’s jaw tightened. “More is at stake than their feelings. Your first mate tried to seduce Asgard’s prinsessa.”
Skop burst forward. “I’m not the one using her, you selfish piece of—”
Alfödr cut him off with a punch to the jaw.
It was quicker than a drop from a gallows. One minute, Skop was upright, and the next, he was sprawling.
The sound of the blow was sickening, like a stone being dropped in the mud. But the empty silence that followed was worse, a world away from the Asgard boys’ cheerful scrapping. Even the fireplaces were quiet, their embers cold and lifeless.
Torden looked stricken, but he and his brothers kept quiet.
I was going to cry. I was going to throw up right on the floor.
I stared at the konge’s clenched fist, at this man who commanded his servants and his armies and his children with equal ease and total confidence he’d be obeyed. Before his confidence and power, I felt weak, chubby, timid, foolish.
Anya’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Skop panted on his hands and knees, his face an angry red where the king had struck him. One hand rose to his cheekbone, and he flinched.
Nobody spoke up.
I was still in Norge, but somehow I was back home in Arbor Hall, aching and humiliated; I was at the Council meeting in the Roots, in a room full of silent men and entirely at Alessandra’s mercy.
It was the pain in their eyes that did it—the pain in Skop’s and Anya’s eyes, and the total lack of awareness in Alfödr’s.
Nobody had stood up for me at that meeting in the Roots. But I was not going to leave my friends twisting in the wind.
My feet grew roots into Valaskjálf’s floor. “Lay a hand on one of my people again, Alfödr, and you will regret it.”
The king’s eyebrows arched. “Lay a hand on what is mine”—he nodded at Anya—“and a price must be paid.”
“She is not yours.” I stared at him as levelly as I could, squared my shoulders, and spoke as I wished I could have in my own defense so many weeks ago. “Her people had the good fortune to reach Asgard, to seek protection from the Shield of the North, and you were gifted your only daughter in the process.”
Alfödr’s eyes narrowed. “And this is her rightful duty and obligation.”
I swallowed. “So say you.”
“Yes.” He stalked forward. “So say I, and in Norge, my word is law.”
We stood closer than was decorous or diplomatic, the king towering a foot overhead. His voice was low when he spoke again. “The Imperiya never ceases to feast, Seneschal-elect. It only grows quieter in the hunt. Was it only last week”—he glanced at Huginn, who nodded in assent—“last week, we received word that the Imperiya is moving from Varsinais-Suomi into the Åland Islands. They will use it as a beachhead, to gain inroads into Svealand to the west, and from there into Norrland and Götaland, and thence to our very gates.” His eyes were stern. “As long as the North is mine to guard, I can never forget, or grow complacent. Alliances must be maintained. Our strength must be gathered and waiting.”
“Anya is not an alliance. She is a person,” I said softly. “She loves you like a father, and she loves Skop. You can’t force them apart. You can’t force her to marry for this.”
“And yet, Seneschal-elect,” said Alfödr, “here you stand.”
I pressed my lips together.
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps Peter had been pressured into turning me down, so I could be sent away.
That didn’t change the fact that I was here, choosing his son, of my own accord. It didn’t change the fact that Anya had the right to do the same thing.
“I am not infrastructure. I am not a tool,” I said tightly. “I am a girl, and if my Council is backward enough to believe I cannot lead without a guide, at least I am neither a bridge nor a wall. And I will make my own choices, their mandates aside.”
“I am sorry to have offended your delicate sensibilities,” said the king, not looking sorry at all. “But in time, you will understand how things must be at Asgard.”
“That’s unlikely.” My voice was crisp. The king crossed his arms. I glanced at Torden and the other boys behind him and found them watching me, as pale and wide-eyed as if they’d found a wounded animal in the woods and it had begun to spit and snarl with no warning. But I couldn’t quit now.
“And I’ll tell you something else.” I pointed at Alfödr, my voice shaking slightly. “I didn’t know this was happening, but if I had, I wouldn’t have told you, and I’d have done my best to help them. Because they’re people, not weapons or possessions. And they decide who they belong to.”
“You’ve got a mouth on you.” Alfödr’s lips were a thin line.
“And a brain,” I said unsteadily. “And a heart.”
He turned away, scoffing, rubbing the back of his neck.
My voice rose, shaking. “So what do you intend to do?”
“Prinsessa Anya’s past illicit liaisons have been exiled or imprisoned,” Huginn answered dispassionately.
I’d done and said all I could. I turned desperate eyes on Lang. “Do something.”
But it wasn’t Lang who stepped forward.
Sir Perrault broke in, glowering at Skop. “Your Majesty, your daughter’s honor has been sullied, and we are ashamed.”
My mouth fell open, horrified. Frozen solid, utterly useless to my friend, I stared at Perrault as he continued. “Rest assured, my lord, that if you leave the first mate to our judgment, his punishment will be more than adequate.” The protocol officer’s expression was sober, his brows knitted slightly together, and I suddenly noticed his stance mirrored the one the Asgard boys took—back straight, chin level, hands clasped behind him. Perrault hadn’t spoken in his usual charming tenor, either; he’d been direct, concise, even pitched his voice a note lower than usual.
Like a chameleon, Perrault had shifted colors before my e
yes.
He looked and sounded faintly like one of the men of Asgard, like one of Alfödr’s thegns—not imitating them so closely that the king would notice and think himself mocked, but near enough the konge’s own language that he might listen.
Perrault was acting. If it worked, I’d be indebted to him.
Perhaps his New York education was more useful than I’d given him credit for.
“Pappa,” Váli began in protest, but Konge Alfödr held up a hand. He pressed his lips together and jabbed a thick finger at Skop. “Koniag, I leave you to the judgment of your captain and protocol officer. Go.” The word was weighty in his mouth. “Come back, though, and see if you find me so restrained.”
Then the king turned his good eye on me. “Seneschal-elect, everyone here knows their place. If you’re to marry my son, you’ll have to learn yours.”
I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t do anything. I could only watch as Perrault hauled Skop away by his shirt collar, his eyes on Anya even as the protocol officer dragged him out the door.
50
Alfödr and his entourage left the hall, and I sank onto the nearest bench.
“What happened?”
Torden studied his hands, muscled and pale, like his father’s. “Skop did not listen.”
“Do not blame him. I chose this.” Anya’s voice was defiant, even as it broke. Her halo braid had half fallen down, and her eyes were red. “He was so sad, Torden. And I am so tired,” she spat, “of being told I am not my own.” She swiped angrily at the tears leaking down her cheeks.
The boys fidgeted, avoiding her gaze. None of them spoke.
Finally, Bragi held out a hand. “Let me take you upstairs,” he offered quietly.
“No, I’ll do it.” Fredrik pushed past him and put an arm around Anya’s shoulder. Bragi watched, frustrated, as Fredrik steered his sister out of the silent hall.
Suddenly, Lang was at my side. “Are you all right?”
Torden crouched before me, running his rough palms over my arms. “I thought Aleksei was taking you back to the bonfires.”
“I wanted you,” I whispered. I glanced up, and Lang’s eyes skipped away, searching the dead ashes in the fireplace. “Aleksei told me an awful story.”
Torden glanced at me sharply. “What did he tell you?”
“About your brothers,” I said. “About how Baldr passed away. A year ago tonight.”
Torden met Hermódr’s eyes, and his mouth twisted, reluctant and miserable. “I see.”
It seemed impossible that hands with so many split knuckles and calluses could be tender, but Torden was gentle as he led me from Valaskjálf, bidding the others a quiet good night. “I was waiting for the right time to explain. I’m so sorry you heard it from Aleksei.”
My stomach turned. “It’s a horrible story. I understand why you weren’t in a hurry to tell it.”
“Hermódr was the one who found him,” he said. “He went looking for help alone after he found the boys. He had to comfort Rihttá alone when he finally reached her and my father. He’s practically her own son now, but neither of them has been the same since.”
Hermódr had looked ill at Aleksei’s very first mention of Midsummer’s Eve. Now I understood the disquiet in his face, the sadness in his mother’s eyes.
Worry for Skop and Anya consumed me, but I wished I knew Rihttá well enough to offer her some comfort on this miserable anniversary.
“Who do you think told on them?” I asked. “Skop and Anya, I mean.”
Torden sighed. “Things were probably getting too quiet around here for Aleksei.”
“Aleksei?” I stared at him. “Aleksei told on them? Didn’t he know what would happen?”
“Selah, I told you, he loves to stir the pot. He is not malicious, but his childhood in Yotunkheym, it—” Torden broke off. “He strikes the matches because he wants to watch something burn. Because then, maybe, my father will pay attention. Maybe he can forget last Midsummer.” He shook his head, pressing his fingers to his brow.
Another bid for attention, I imagine, Torden had said that one night, when Aleksei had shown up in the Imperiya uniform.
He’s determined to shock, if that’s what it takes to get Pappa to notice him.
What else would Aleksei do to make Alfödr see him? Who else would he betray for his approval? And what would Aleksei do if, despite all his best efforts, Alfödr never looked at him the way he looked at his blood sons? If he never belonged?
Would he seek to belong somewhere else?
Torden swallowed, looking troubled. “I wish you had stayed in the woods.”
“I wish you had said something!” I put a hand to my forehead. “How could you just stand there while your father spoke to Anya that way?”
“What would I have said?” Torden asked, bewildered. “I did what I could. I warned them. But our konge is not to be questioned. He commands, and we obey.” He cleared his throat, lowering his eyes. “Like Pappa said, you’ll understand, someday.”
I blinked at him, thinking of Daddy. He hardly ever raised his voice, and even at his angriest, I’d never seen him lay a hand on anyone. I’d envied these boys their powerful father.
Now, I just wanted to see mine.
“I don’t think a lifetime here could convince me,” I finally answered, “let alone a few more days.”
Torden stilled. “A few more—” He seized my shoulders, and my pulse sparked. “Selah, I am falling in love with you.”
Despite the night’s disaster, his words were a firework in my heart. “I’m falling for you, too,” I whispered. “I want you to come to Potomac with me.”
“Of course.” Torden gathered me into his arms, his heart hammering beneath my palms. “Of course we can go to Potomac for a little while before we—before anything happens. I have to meet your family.”
I wanted to melt in his arms when he bent to kiss me, but I held up a hand, and he paused. “Go to Potomac—for a little while?”
He wet his lips. “If we get married, it could be there, even.”
I met his anxious eyes and shook my head, hardly hearing his tacit proposal. “Torden, I have to live in Potomac. Permanently. You know that, right?”
Torden paled, freckles stark against his bloodless cheeks. “What are you talking about?”
“My father’s sick, and I’m worried about him. I don’t trust my stepmother. Besides, I’m seneschal-elect. I’ll be seneschal of Potomac someday.” When he didn’t reply, I kept babbling. “I got lucky. I thought it was lucky you took Týr’s place, because you’re only fifth in line, you’re not— Torden, what is it?”
“Daughters are not heirs to the throne in Norge.” Torden sounded strangled. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I had no idea.”
“But my title—I thought it was clear.” I shook my head, more a twitch than an actual gesture. “And I couldn’t presume you’d marry me, regardless. I didn’t know for certain how you felt.”
Torden eased his arms back around me. “You don’t know the half of it,” he murmured into my neck.
“So come with me.” I gave a shivering laugh.
He swallowed hard. “I can’t.”
My heart stopped. “Why not?”
“Because if Asgard’s daughters are its bridges, Asgard’s sons are its walls.” He grit his teeth, closing his eyes. “And Asgard’s sons do not leave.”
51
I sat on Torden’s bed and stared at him, dumbfounded.
He’d shucked off his flannel shirt and his boots when we reached his room, mopping his forehead with the shirt before adding it to a heap of laundry on the floor. The boots now sat neatly beside the large closet to one end of the room, and Torden sat backward on a chair across from me. Knees bouncing, head propped on his muscular forearms, he looked like an overgrown little boy.
We’d been silent a long time.
“I thought I explained everything,” I finally said. “What Alessandra did. That Daddy is unwell. What I have to do.”
“But I told you that morning by the Bilröst that she wanted me gone.”
“Huginn and Muninn accepted her words as fact, and I never thought to question them. We don’t lie like that here,” he said, agitated. “Besides, you told me yourself that first day you hated the pressure, being in the public eye! Why didn’t you say anything?” The spread of his hands was frustrated. Helpless.
“Ask you to give up your brothers for me? Your home?” I whispered. “I just—I couldn’t. I didn’t know if you would, but I couldn’t even bring myself to ask.”
I lowered my head into my hands. He drummed his fingers on the back of his chair.
“There is one more reason I have to stay,” Torden finally said. “Dronning Rihttá. I have a promise to keep, to take care of her. To hold things together here.”
Hodr. Baldr.
I thought I understood. I wanted to protect the little brother or sister I hadn’t even met yet.
I only wished I’d had a chance to know the love he and his mother shared. Rihttá was family to Torden in a way Alessandra had never wanted to be to me.
I nodded. “No. I know. You’re a good son. I—” I sprang off the bed and walked to the door, stifling a sob with my fist.
My heart was a mallet inside my rib cage. I was so sick of its abuse.
Torden caught up to me easily. “Shhh.” He folded me against his chest, beard catching at my hair. I breathed him in, letting my mind grow quiet with the smell of his skin and the feel of his nearness.
When I finally calmed down, I wiped my eyes, glancing around at the four bunk beds lining one wall and the four desks opposite.
I needed to talk about something—anything—else. I didn’t want to cry anymore.
Anya had mentioned the boys bunked together in the brakker. I cleared my throat. “Who do you share this room with?”
“Aleksei, Fredrik, and Bragi. Týr, Vidarr, Váli, and Hermódr have the one next door.”
