The Valkyrie's Bond (Halfblood Rising Book 1)

by Lucy Roy

  “I look forward to it,” Freya said sincerely. “My aunt was the cook back in Watoria. I was always out, either at school or working for the marshals. Some days I hardly took the time to stop and eat.”

  “No wonder you’re so small,” the cook said. She sniffed. “Least you’ve got some muscle on you, though. Next time you visit, I’ll have you lug some sacks of grain, keep you from getting soft.”

  Freya laughed. “I think I’d like that very much, Maghda.”

  Chapter 26

  Unsurprising to Freya, Lea was less-than thrilled to have been assigned to act as a tour guide for Lord Edrin. Freya had broken the news to her as they walked from the last morning class to the dining hall for lunch the following day. Despite Lea’s eagerness to help Freya adapt to life in the capital, trotting a Jotunn through the Iladelian markets was, according to her, not her job as the prince’s cousin to do.

  “How exactly did I end up escorting him around?” Lea asked as she and Collin took seats in the dining hall with Laz and Freya after their morning classes. “Why not you?” She scanned the room. “And where is your betrothed? He’ll get me out of this.”

  “Queen Ordona ordered it herself,” Freya told her, taking up a spoonful of her chilled cantaloupe soup. “And I’ll be with you.”

  Lea narrowed her eyes at her. “Don’t lie to me, Freya. I know you had a hand in this.”

  “I’m insulted you would think so little of me,” Freya said with mock outrage.

  “I don’t see why you’re so upset, Lea,” Laz said. “It’s a city tour, not a betrothal. Save your upset for when she insists you allow him to escort him to the Solstice ball.”

  Lea gasped. “Bite your tongue!”

  “Is it really that big a deal?” Collin asked.

  “It takes time out of my day,” Lea said haughtily. “And from what Aer said, he smells.”

  Freya rolled her eyes. “My sense of smell is far superior to his, and I can tell you, Lord Edrin smells like any other Jotunn warlock.”

  “We could meet up with you, if you’d like,” Collin suggested. “For lunch, perhaps?”

  “We could?” Laz asked.

  “No, it’s fine,” Freya told him, sending a deprecating look toward Lea. “She’s clearly being overdramatic.”

  “Oh, there’s Aer,” Lea said, sighing in relief as she stood. “He’ll get me out of this. Cousin!” she shouted across the hall. “Come here!”

  Freya watched as Aer made his way across the room, smiling politely as he declined multiple invites to sit with the other students. That he cared enough to even acknowledge them—something many royals wouldn’t bother to do—spoke volumes to her about the kind of person he had turned out to be.

  A few seconds later, Aer sat down next to Freya, his two hulking guards—Rodrick and Perinald, Freya had learned—taking up position behind him, their backs to the wall. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Your mother,” Lea began, pointing at him with a breadstick, “has offered me up as some sweaty dignitary’s tour guide and I would like you to rectify that.”

  Aer shrugged. “She’s the queen,” he said simply. “What she says goes.”

  “I’m going to go with you, Lea,” Freya repeated, trying to hide her frustration. “I can’t do it on my own. It’s been too long since I’ve explored the city.”

  “Is he handsome at least? If I’m to spend the day with this male, I’d at least hope he’s nice to look upon.”

  Propping his chin on his fist, Aer looked at Freya, eyes twinkling. “I don’t know, Lea. Freya, would you say our guest is handsome?”

  “Well his skin is like a fresh fallen snow,” Freya said dreamily, mirroring his position. “And his eyes—” She squealed as Aer tried to tickle her. Grabbing his wrist, she gave him a warning look, doing her best to ignore the teasing gleam in his eyes. “I won’t hesitate to hurt you, Your Highness.”

  “A fact I’ll never forget, my love,” he said, gently dislodging her grip and lacing his fingers through hers, smiling when she didn’t pull away.

  “So that would be a yes, then?” Lea asked.

  “He’s mildly handsome,” Freya said. “And for the last time, I’m going with you.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Freya,” Collin said. “As you said, Lea is being overdramatic, as per usual.”

  Lea huffed but didn’t deny it.

  “It will only be a few hours,” Freya told her. “Hardly a blip in time, really.”

  Lea groaned. “Alright, alright. But don’t expect me to be happy about it!”

  Freya held up her free hand and smiled. “I’d never ask that much of you.”

  Lea frowned at Aer. “And why aren’t you insisting on escorting us?”

  Aer shrugged, then plucked a bite of cantaloupe from Freya’s plate, smiling when she scowled in response. “I’m quite certain Freya would kill me in my sleep if I ever attempted anything that resembled nannying.”

  Freya preened. “What makes you think I’d wait until you’re sleeping?”

  “So when will your excursion be happening?” Collin asked, shaking his head at their exchange.

  “Tomorrow,” Aer replied.

  “To—” Lea huffed. “Freya, I pray you won’t be so demanding when you’re queen.”

  She frowned. “How am I to have any fun, then?”

  “Lady Balthana?”

  Freya flashed a quick look at Aer at the sound of Myria’s voice. He gave her an amused look that clearly said, “Have fun and expect no help from me.”

  Turning, she found the sharp-eyed lady of Saith standing behind her, a look of resignation on her pretty face.

  Freya kept her expression as neutral as possible. “Yes?”

  Myria’s lips thinned as she looked around the table, giving a tight smile to Freya’s friends, before taking a deep breath and meeting Freya’s eyes. “May we speak privately?”

  “Ten sils she’s here to grovel,” Laz murmured quietly, enough for only Freya to hear.

  “Thirty,” Aer replied, popping a grape into his mouth and leaning back in his seat, grinning at Freya.

  Fighting back a smile, Freya stood. “Of course. Let’s go outside.” She held up a hand when Rissen and Cecilia made to follow. “I’ll just be a minute,” she told them. Then, brushing past Myria, she strode toward the door, leading the way out.

  When they emerged onto the patio, Freya turned to face her. Standing together, Myria in her pretty floral dress, with delicate blond curls cascading over her shoulders, and Freya in her leather pants and light gray blouse, her hair pulled back in a wispy braid, their differences were impossible to miss. Even still, Freya found herself hoping she and the girl could eventually find some sort of common ground, form an amicable relationship. Freya never liked the thought of having an unnecessary enemy, and a governor’s daughter was a good ally to have.

  So, she offered up a smile as she addressed her.

  “What can I do for you, Lady Bryton?”

  Myria wiped her hands on her silk dress nervously. “It’s—please, call me Myria.”

  “Alright. What can I do for you, Myria?”

  Myria took a deep breath, clasping her hands together in front of her and giving Freya a meek look. “I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you initially. While I couldn’t have known your true identity or status, it was wrong of me to assume so little of you.” She took a deep breath. “I hope you can accept my apology and that we might be able to move forward as friends.”

  Freya angled her head and eyed Myria speculatively, hardly able to contain her amusement. The poor girl looked as though having a molar pulled might be more fun than her current circumstances, and she was doing little to hide it. Freya had expected this soon enough and assumed she’d get similar apologies from Myria’s friends who’d joined in her taunts. Petty as it might’ve been, Freya took a small pleasure in Myria’s discomfort.

  Doing her best to keep her face neutral, she let Myria suffer in silence for a few seconds before re
sponding. “I appreciate your words, Myria, but there’s something you should know about me.”

  Myria gave her a wary look. “What’s that?”

  “I don’t tolerate forced apologies.” Before Myria could offer a rebuke, Freya held up a hand. “I find them quite pointless, to be honest. I can only assume your father instructed you to apologize after you so brazenly threatened and insulted me on multiple occasions. Do I have that right?”

  Myria opened her mouth, doubtless to deny Freya’s claim, but instead, her shoulders slumped and the false look of contrition she’d worn shifted to defeat.

  “Yes. Well, more my mother than my father. But—”

  Freya shook her head. “While I can understand their reasoning and yours for obeying, your apology means little to me if it’s insincere.”

  Myria’s jaw tightened. “I admit that I viewed you as competition for the prince’s affections and wanted to scare you off. I did what I felt necessary to eliminate you as a threat.”

  Freya gave her an amused grin. “In other words, you aren’t actually sorry?”

  “No,” Myria replied. “I am not. But I will be moving on. I may hate you for landing the prince, but I’m not pathetic enough to try to sabotage your betrothal.” She took a deep breath and her expression turned sour. “After seeing you and Aerelius together, I can acknowledge any chance I had may have been slim, and I have too much self-respect to try to convince someone to love me when his sights are so clearly set elsewhere.”

  Freya’s brow shot up in genuine surprise, then she laughed. “Self-awareness. That’s something I can appreciate far more than a politically-fueled apology.”

  “I—truly?”

  “Of course. While I disagree thoroughly with your actions, I understand your motivations. And, as I’m no stranger to a parent making choices for me, I can even sympathize a bit.”

  Hopefulness flashed in Myria’s eyes. “You’re unhappy with the choices your parents made for you?”

  Freya smiled wryly. “No, Myria, not in this case. I care for our prince a great deal.”

  Myria folded her arms and looked out across the sunny quadrangle of the campus, then sighed. “That’s rare, you know. Being content with a betrothal.”

  “I know how fortunate I am, and I take nothing that has been offered to me for granted,” Freya told her.

  Myria wrinkled her nose. “I was assuming you’d laugh in my face, call me names, possibly even spit on me for my disrespect. Thank you for not doing any of those things.”

  Freya laughed. “Has anyone told you that you’re quite skilled at backhanded compliments, Lady Bryton?”

  Myria’s lips twitched, then she frowned. “May I ask you a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “If my father or mother asks…”

  Freya gave her an understanding smile. “You groveled at my feet?”

  Myria let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

  “Believe it or not, I also know a thing or two about frustrating parental expectations.” She smiled sincerely. “My lips are sealed.”

  Just after lunch, Freya received notice she was to report to the headmistress’ office before heading to her next class. When she arrived, she was surprised to find her father waiting for her outside.

  “This can’t be good,” she said wryly as she approached. “Don’t you have soldiers to order about?”

  “Queen Ordona informed me you’ll be acting as a guide to the Jotnar emissary,” Byrric said, ignoring her jab. “I’d hoped to speak to you privately about that before you go.”

  Freya looked around the busy campus and frowned. “Alright. Let’s go to the lake.”

  She sent a nod toward Rissen and Cecilia to let them know she’d return, then let out her wings and took off, looping once in the air as her father joined her. Side-by-side, they flew across campus, and as Freya watched the students roaming about below, all of whom were oblivious to the thrill of soaring through the sky, she had to admit she enjoyed having someone to fly with for once. Byrric taught her how to fly long ago, but after he left Watoria, she was largely on her own, teaching herself most of her evasive maneuvers and aerial moves.

  When he picked up speed, tucking his wings tight to his sides, she grinned, accepting the challenge. With a sharp flap of her wings, she burst forward, overtaking him just before they crossed the line of trees that surrounded the lake.

  “You’re getting slow in your old age,” she teased as they touched down.

  “Or I let you win,” he countered.

  “Uh huh.” She sat down on the sand. “Now, what did you need to speak with me about?”

  Byrric sat down beside her as well and rested his elbows on his knees. “When you and Lady Calliwell take the Jotunn to Iladel, I want you to be wary of everything he says. Be cognizant of everything you tell him and report back to me with anything you find worth noting.”

  Freya was surprised—and a bit insulted—he thought she’d do anything less. “Might I ask why you feel the need to forewarn me?”

  “Our relationship with Jotunheim is tenuous enough as it is. Considering your position, you need to be aware that all you say and do will be turned over and dissected. You haven’t yet had the experience to gain any political savvy, so this will be a test of your abilities.”

  “That’s why I offered to do this,” she told him. “I could’ve easily suggested Laz and Collin take this on, but Lea will have a softer approach, and he’s already quite curious about me.”

  Byrric nodded, his face serious. “Alright. As a monarch-in-training, I will trust your judgement on this.”

  Freya arched a brow. “But not as your daughter?”

  He laughed. “My daughter would do her best to make me look a fool. A future monarch, however, would want to create a strong image for herself.”

  “Which I’m attempting to do.”

  “I heard you nearly got into an argument with Kira Leston in your Civics class. Is that what you consider making a strong image for yourself?”

  “The girl needed to be put in her place, and I merely provided thorough answers to a question our professor asked. It isn’t my fault if she took offense to the truth. And do you and the king and queen truly have spies on me everywhere I go?”

  “Yes,” he replied without an ounce of shame. “So you should behave as though every word you say will be reported directly to the king, himself.”

  “I do! But I’m not going pander to some opportunistic brat who finds it acceptable to belittle people—including her future queen, no less—for her own amusement.” She frowned. “And considering it was Governor Bryton’s daughter whom I defended, you’d think I might get a bit of credit for that, considering how vile that girl has been to me since I arrived.”

  “Speaking of Lady Bryton, you were seen speaking with her outside the dining hall earlier.” He gave her a pointed look. “I trust it was a civil conversation?”

  “Quite,” Freya confirmed. “Her false contrition was almost convincing.”

  Byrric sighed and lifted his eyes skyward. “And I’m sure you told her just that.”

  “Honest, Commander,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I was honest with her, and she appreciated that. We won’t be braiding each other’s hair any time soon, but at the very least, her looks toward me should be a bit less venomous. I don’t know about you, but I consider that a good thing.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is.” Standing, he held out a hand to pull her to her feet. “Ah, I nearly forgot. I was also told to tell you that you ‘promised the prince two nights at the palace and tomorrow will be the first.’” Arching a brow, he sighed. “Care to elaborate?”

  Freya rolled her eyes. “My fiancé is using fancy bedrooms and hidden passages to convince me to move to the palace. Two days a week are my compromise for now.”

  “Yes, I suppose that might ease his mind a bit,” Byrric said with a nod. “Salazar’s, too. Good work, Freya. That’s one less annoyance we’ll have to deal with.”

&n
bsp; “For now,” she amended. “Aer will likely back off, but the king will take it as an opening. I’m fully expecting him to push back.”

  “It’s only for a few more months,” he replied. “There are more than enough precautions in place for you to remain at Aldridge until the winter holiday. After the wedding, though, you won’t have a choice.”

  She waved off his warning. “I know, which is why I’d like to get as much time here as I can. I’ve cooled down a bit now, but I’m still quite furious that I won’t get even a full year here as I was promised.”

  “You can thank your prince for that,” Byrric responded dryly. “But you and he are a distraction enough as it is. Why he insisted on attending and his parents allowed it is beyond my comprehension.”

  “For the same reason you and King Salazar allowed me to,” Freya said simply. “To learn from the best and potentially form friendships with the children of the more influential citizens of the realms.”

  “Forming alliances is not the main reason Salazar invited you to attend or why I agreed to send you,” Byrric told her. “He knew your strengths and wanted you in an environment, at least for a time, where you could hone those strengths before becoming bogged down by queenly duties.”

  “He could have just as easily had that done at the palace,” she corrected. “He saw my talents at a young age, certainly, but the reason he wanted me here was for the relationships I could form and the influence I could garner, pure and simple.” She gave him a tight smile. “I meant what I said after the ball. I want the citizens of Lindoroth to revere me based on who I am, not the title I hold. As a student here, I would’ve been able to take more steps to ensure that. Without knowing who I am, they’ll see me as a female whose species landed her a betrothal with the prince and nothing more. That may have been true when I was a child, but I want to prove that I’m worthy of their respect.”

  Byrric was silent for a moment, and Freya could tell he wanted to refute her claims, despite their accuracy.

  “You are quite perceptive, daughter,” he finally said. “And you’ll find another way. If there’s one thing you got from your mother, it’s her persistence. Don’t let this one setback cause you to falter.”