Page 122 of A Curse Carved in Bone
“Your mother has gone to Helheim. She took Harald’s soul with her to keep him from pursuing more trickery, but her last words to me were to tell you that she loves you.”
Bjorn’s jaw tightened, eyes turning liquid for a moment before he blinked. His voice was steady when he spoke again. “She’ll be at peace there. She was not meant for violence and war, and I think she’s suffered enough pain for two lifetimes.” The corner of his mouth curled up. “And she’ll keep Harald in check, that we know.”
Peace.
Oh, how that word sang to my soul, and as I looked around me at the Unfated who’d been my allies and enemies in equal measure, I longed for it. Longed to cast aside magic and weapons and violence and just live. Longed to be happy.
Footsteps approached, and I lifted my head to see Steinunn. The skald’s face was pale and splattered with blood, a bandage wrapped around one arm, but she also had my shield hooked over her shoulder. She must have found it near the river. The others allowed her to pass, and she dropped to her knees next to me and Bjorn. “I am sorry.” She handed me my shield, the silver metal dented from going over the falls. “Sorry for aiding him. Sorry for everything.”
“You were deceived,” Tora reminded her. “As were so many.”
“Yes, but I was also selfish. I cared not for Harald’s deception of others because I believed he had given me vengeance for the family I’d lost. I took no action until I learned that the person who deserved my vengeance was him.” Steinunn’s chin quivered. “I do not deserve your forgiveness, Freya, and do not ask for it. But please know that I am sorry, and that I will accept your punishment.”
What she said was true, and yet I did not have it in my heart to fault her for it. Not because her final song had unveiled the truth but because her weakness was one I bore as well. Was a weakness all of us here bore, for we all let our hearts make choices for us. It was only those who refused to acknowledge their weakness that I could not forgive. “I have decided on what your punishment will be.”
I could feel her fear, smell it in the sweat that dampened her clothes, but Steinunn nodded.
“I would have you compose a ballad of all that has happened. A ballad that you will sing all over Skaland and Nordeland so that everyonewill know the truth.” I tilted my head. “And you must include your part in it as well.”
Steinunn lifted her face.
“You told me once that no one cared to hear your story,” I said. “But it was that you were too afraid to tell it. Your punishment is to confront that fear, Steinunn, and, in doing so, forgive yourself. Your destiny is your own, my friend.”
Tears rolled down the skald’s face, and she nodded. “A ballad for the ages. The Saga of the Unfated.”
“More caterwauling,” Bjorn grumbled. “But it is a good title.”
Laughter spilled through the group, dispelling the tension, and with it gone I felt exhaustion take hold. Seeming to sense it, Bjorn tightened his grip and lifted me into his arms. “You need warmth and rest and healing.”
“I can walk and you are too injured to carry me.” I was not entirely sure if that was the truth or a lie, because I was weary to the bone. “Put me down.”
“I’m fine. And after what you put me through, I have no intention of ever letting you go.”
I wrapped an arm around his neck, mindful of his injuries. “You do understand that isn’t practical.”
“I am not a practical man,” Bjorn retorted. “In fact, I would argue that I am one of the most impractical men you will ever meet.” He cast a sideways glance at Steinunn. “You may put that in the part of your song about me.”
“If there is space.” Steinunn adjusted her bandage. “There are only so many lines that I can dedicate to minor players, or the listeners may become bored.”
Bjorn burst into laughter. “I may revise my opinion of you, skald. You have more spirit than I once thought.”
I smiled, relaxing against him as the group laughed and bickered. Silence was never allowed to rule, and I knew that it was because all the Unfated present were coming to grips with the painful revelations thatSteinunn’s song had delivered upon them. Many had spent most of their lives twisted up in Harald’s lies and were now faced with uncertain futures. I wondered how many would return to Hrafnheim and how many would move on to other places and find other jarls to serve.
Tora walked with a determination I’d never seen in her before. Finally unleashed from Harald’s runic magic, she seemed like another person entirely. Ready to take her fate by the horns with the same strength as her godly father, and I hoped that she’d guide the others to do the same.
Because I didn’t want any of them looking to me to weave the rest of their futures. I had my own to manage.
With Grindill having burned to the stones it was built upon, all had gathered in the village of Torne, and our group made its way to the mead hall where some of the jarls who had been sworn to Snorri had congregated.
“Put me down, Bjorn,” I said softly when we reached the doors. “This is a moment I must face on my feet.”
He set me down carefully, though his arm remained tight around my waist as I walked inside. All fell silent at the sight of us, and my eyes went immediately to Ylva, who stood at Leif’s elbow. We would never be friends, she and I, but we were no longer enemies. She gave me a nod of respect, and I reciprocated, because while she’d caused me a great deal of trouble, she was also a woman who fought for the well-being of her people. But most of all, she fought for those she loved.
“Harald is dead,” I said. “His soul is in Helheim, under the watch of the seer Saga, who will keep his trickery in check lest he trouble those who live in that realm.”
Conversation and exclamations turned the hall into a riot of noise, and I waited for it to quiet before I continued. “The story in its whole will be told to you with a child of Bragi’s magic so you may know the truth to it.”
Steinunn nodded. “A tale that will immortalize the heroism of all until the end of days.”
