Page 1 of Rune

One

MY PARENTS HAD five strong, healthy, beautiful daughters, each worthy of the gods’ attention and each fit to make the clan proud.

They also had me.

My breathing hitched where it should come clear, and my body struggled to accept anything resembling strength no matter how hard Tova and I trained. Even now, as my family trekked up the merciless mountain to the worship ground of the gods, I was the one trailing behind my sisters until we finally came to the foot of the ritual. Our clan’s chieftain, Jarl Hakan, waited there to welcome the families who made the journey.

I planted my feet on slabs of rock and fought to steady my breathing as I took it all in. The ritual was a glorious sight to behold.

It was customary to worship the gods every autumn equinox. The trees had been in golden blaze for a month, so the mountain range moreclosely resembled a burning fire than anything, until the hues of amber and marigold gave way to the fjord below. At our backs, the sun dropped behind the sparkling sea to signal the start of the worship ceremony, but Vikings were never good about technicalities. From the sharp scent of blood in the air and how the dirt ran red at our feet, animal sacrifices had begun a while ago. From the wax seals, every clan was here. We only gathered peacefully for the gods. Still, tension cut through the air as sharp as the knives glistening from every hip.

The tentative peace held for now. Instead of fighting amongst each other, all heads were bowed before towering ash wood statues where men, women, and children muttered praises upon our mighty gods.

I’d begged the gods for many things before, but tonight, for the first time in my life, they would listen.

Tonight, I had something they wanted.

“We will pay respect to Jarl Hakan before entering the sacred grounds,”Faðirsaid. He led us to the great archway entrance our leader stood before. Many other clans had leaders there, all equally large in size until one wondered if the peace tonight held out of respect for the gods or a fear of these men. As it was, I had little of either. As day slipped into night, I was eager to enter the sacred grounds and eager for myother task, but I would not risk slighting the chieftain by not offering my regards. Not when he, like the gods, had something I desired.

He watched us approach until we were at his feet.

“Jarl,”Faðirsaid, as he andMóðirbowed. Then they stepped back. “My six daughters.” He held out an arm to present us, with his proud gaze locked on the oldest, Tova.

I drove my knee into the ground, placed my hand on the splintered hilt of my axe, and bowed my head before Jarl Hakan. Beside me, my five sisters did the same—Tova on my right and the younger four on myleft. It’d been three months since we had seen Jarl Hakan, though not three months since I’d been in his home.

He didn’t know how often I sneaked into his hut after the sun set behind the fjord. He would soon.

“The gods have undeniably blessed you.” Jarl Hakan’s voice was like grating rocks and his face scarred from battle, deformed into something terrible, more closely resembling beast than man. His body was just as fearsome. Whispers say he descended from Odin himself, and none could deny it. Looking at him, it was no wonder he was the clan’s longest reigning chieftain; he’d bested all others who’d challenged him for leadership over the years until no one else dared to try.

He loomed beside the wooden posts marking the entrance to the sacred land, a torch in hand and gray wolf fur around his back. He’d slain that wolf with his bare hands—or so he claimed. In the torchlight, his famously silver eyes sparked.

I searched for his son, finding Trig on the other side of the arch. His head was bent to listen to the seer.

As if sensing my gaze, his blue eyes turned and found mine. My heart sped up. Something glistened from his neck, and I brightened to see the bear-tooth necklace hanging over his tunic. He’d given me a matching one.

Trig held my gaze for a moment before pulling away without a hint of emotion.An illusion,he’d called it.Hiding our hearts so no one saw. So no one could hurt us.It was a callous game he played well.

I could play too. I set my mouth in a thin line and looked back to hisfaðir.

“We thank the gods for them,”Faðirwas saying.

“I can see why.” Jarl Hakan handed his torch to his golden-haired wife and stepped closer, dying grass crunching under his foot. I straightened as his watchful eye took in the sight of us.

I tried to control my breathing, but the raspy sound was hard to mask. When I couldn’t quiet it, I held it instead. To say such an act was uncomfortable would be putting it mildly, and my chest tightened in fierce protest until it was taking every ounce of strength I had not to draw in another rattled breath. Jarl Hakan would hear it though, and he’d see my weakness.

It wouldn’t have mattered. He’d made his decision about me, and I scored poorly. That much was evident in how easily his attention slid over me as if I was a vapor that wasn’t there at all. He was far more concerned with Tova, as all were. But then he turned to my other sisters and they each got a moment of his eye. It was the tiniest hint of disapproval but it buried an axe into my chest that hurt worse than my strained breathing.

“Such strong bones, healthy complexion, and beautiful features,” Jarl Hakan praised, though he looked in the direction of my parents as if they’d been the ones to swing the axe or throw the spears day after day and had sculpted these muscles onto our bodies themselves.

My body straightened. I’d given the chieftain enough of my time, and rose first to step toward the altars while the crackle of the torch’s flame almost masked his last words. I wished it had.

“She really is chosen by the gods, isn’t she?”

Each of my sisters flinched. His praise wasn’t for us all, then. Only her.

Tova gave a gracious smile. “Have you seen Rune fight yet? She is a prodigy with the spear.” She stepped back to allow me to be better seen.

The different lives the fates had given my sister and I could have easily festered pools of jealousy, but that hadn’t been the case. One fact as sure as the fjord itself assured I’d never bear ill thoughts toward Tova—she was kind. Truly good to the bone, without a thread of malice in her. She had a sling of other attributes that made her beloved as well: her dark silken hair rolled down her back, her sharp jaw, strong figure, and her smile that had impelled more than one boy to compose poetry in her honor. She was fierce. She was brave. She was compassionate. Because of those things, she deserved to be loved, and she had my whole heart.

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