Page 93 of A Curse Carved in Bone
My words were bluster, yet the entire hall fell entirely silent.
“Oh, gods.” Ylva lifted a hand to her mouth in horror that I was fairly confident was feigned, for she was not a woman easily shaken.
“What?” Harald demanded. “Spit out your concerns, woman.”
“Runic magic only holds power over the living. If Freya dies, the wards will not hold her.”
“Are you suggesting Freya might be loose?” Harald demanded. “That she’s dead…yet living? An unfated draug? Or something else?”
“I don’t know!” Tears rolled down Ylva’s face. “I do not know the extent of the powers Hel has granted her. You know more of her magic than I do. Do you believe she might have escaped?”
Harald’s fingers twitched, and though his face was a blank mask, I could feel the tension seething out of him as he weighed which threat was greater: stopping Ragnar from spreading his secret or ensuring that Freya was no longer a threat.
“You will hunt Ragnar down,” he finally snapped at Skade. “Silence him, and then sail to the island and kill the Hel-child, then burn the corpse. Take Skoll and Hati, and go!”
“Yes, Father,” Skade whispered, wiping blood from her split lip and hurrying past Tora, who didn’t hide her smile at seeing the other woman brought low. Harald noted it as well, his glower deepening, and he snapped, “Ensure the door is secured behind her else you’ll have more bodies to dispose of.”
“Yes, my king.” Tora heaved a corpse over her shoulder and followed after Skade and the wolves, leaving bloody footprints in her wake. Harald glared at the mess in frustration.
Ragnar, for all his skills, was a dead man, because Skade always caught her quarry. But he’d bought Freya more time. More than that, he’d revealed that Harald was not in control, his plans coming apart at the seams. The secret he’d kept his whole life, on which hung every one of his schemes, was loose in the world. If I knew anything, it was that nothing infuriated him more than losing control.
“I think your ambition has stretched beyond your skill,Father,” Isaid. “It’s one thing to keep up the pretense of the life of a reclusive woman no one ever sees, quite another to keep up the pretense of the life of a king. I see your plans fraying like a poorly made tapestry, and with it your control over your own fate.”
He backhanded me, but I just spat blood and laughed. “You spent too much time in my mother’s form, Harald. You hit like an old woman.”
Harald drew the knife belted at his waist. “You have outlived your usefulness. Just as your mother did.” His smile was vicious. “I still remember how she screamed as she burned in the fire of your making. It was not quick. But I’ve learned my lesson about indulging in the pleasure of slow deaths.”
I had not known it possible to hate someone as much as I hated him, and it drowned out any fear I might have for my own life.
Harald lifted his knife. “Give my regards to your mother when you reach Helheim.”
Ylva caught his wrist. “Wait. He is still useful.”
Harald turned his head, listening.
“If the Hel-child has escaped,” Ylva said, “we must catch her and kill her. Use Bjorn as bait, Harald, for Freya will surely come for him.”
“I distrust your wisdom, Ylva.” Harald crossed his arms. “And feel inclined to do the opposite.”
Tora came back into the hall, bending to collect another body. Though no one paid her any attention, I knew that she was listening to everything that was being said.
“Bjorn killed my husband.” A tear trickled down Ylva’s cheek. “Killed him in cold blood. There is no one who wishes him dead more than I do, but not at the cost of my son. All things that I do are for Leif’s well-being, which means I must set aside matters of the heart in favor of cold logic. To rule Skaland, you need me. To keep me, Leif must be well. Knowing this, I believe that your success will be my son’s success. And,” she swallowed hard, “if Freya has escaped through means other than death, Leif has the capacity to control her. She is bound to serve his blood.”
My jaw clenched, because even with Snorri dead the burden of those oaths remained on Freya’s shoulders.
Rather than appeasing him, Harald turned on Ylva, pressing the knife to her throat. “Understand this, woman. If you try to cross me in any way, your son will die. Die badly, die slowly, and I assure you, there will be no honor in it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lord.” Ylva inclined her head. “I suggest you make a spectacle of Bjorn’s death. A traitor’s death, for all those his actions harmed to witness. If Freya is free, she will aim to rescue him and we will catch her. We need a few days to set our trap, but also to ensure Bjorn is strong enough to endure the worst of tortures.”
Ylva was buying me time. Freya time. Not because she’d forgiven what I’d done to Snorri, but because she had realized that Freya was our best chance at salvation. Ylva was nothing if not pragmatic, and she knew she had erred in her decisions. But her regret was not enough to risk Leif, so time was the only thing she’d giveme.
Harald was silent, eyes distant as he considered, then his face began to melt like wax, re-forming as Snorri. Lowering the knife, he leaned down and kissed Ylva on the lips. “I see why my old rival valued you so, Ylva. You will be a good queen.”
It was a struggle not to look away.
“Yes, my king.” The slight tightening of Ylva’s jaw was the only emotion on her face. “I will not disappoint you.”
“Tora, have Volund patch Bjorn together so he doesn’t bleed to death. He is to be confined under your watch and you will do whatever it takes to keep him from escaping,” Harald-as-Snorri said. “Come, wife. Let us announce our plans to Skaland. What better way to celebrate the union between Skaland and Nordeland than to execute the man who betrayed both?”
