Page 21 of A Curse Carved in Bone
It stretched, nose to the ground and arse in the air, then trotted with long strides to Harald. He dropped to his knees to pet the wolf with enthusiasm, and the black one trotted over to share in the attention.
“Skoll and Hati,” Tora said. I stared at the massive wolves, which had to weigh as much or more than most men. Were these the sons of Fenrir in truth or just their namesakes? Both animals had designs painted on their furry foreheads and collars of silver around their necks.
“Do they chase the sun and moon?” I watched as Skoll licked Bjorn’s hand, seeming to know him.
“No,” a familiar voice said.
Skade stepped next to me, the mocking tone of her voice identical to the one that she’d used toward my mother right before she’d killed her. “But run, and they will join me in the hunt for you.”
Both wolves chose that precise moment to turn their heads to regard me, the intelligence in their eyes far beyond what I’d ever seen an animal possess. A shiver passed over me. “Did you find your quarry?”
“Within the hour,” she replied. “And then I found a fast horse. No one ever eludes my hunt, Freya. Remember that.” Lengthening her stride, Skade disappeared into the hall.
“Beware her,” Tora said beneath her breath. “In Bjorn’s absence, she has been our king’s right hand and she has a jealous nature.”
“Shouldn’t you be warning him?” I muttered back.
“No.” With that cryptic response, Tora stepped through the doors and I was forced to hurry to catchup.
Inside, a wave of warmth and the scent of woodsmoke washed over me. The feasting space was full of large tables and benches that wereoverlooked by a dais with two thrones. The upper level was supported by thick pillars carved with depictions of the gods, and in the center, a large stone hearth burned, smoke rising to the opening above.
Servants were already at work loading the tables with casks of mead and wine. The smell of grilling meat caused my stomach to rumble. Moving away from Tora and Skade, I stopped before the dais and stared at the thrones formed of antlers, the seats cushioned with thick white pelts. One was larger than the other, the smaller of the two somehow…feminine.Turning to Harald, I asked, “Who is your queen?”
The king of Nordeland rocked on his heels and cast a sideways glance at Bjorn, then he said, “Saga is my wife, but not my queen. She has no wish to rule, but I keep the seat for her should she change her mind.”
I blew out a slow breath from between my teeth, because the answer seemed so obvious now. The way Harald spoke about Saga. The way he had named her son as his son and heir. “I would like to go to speak to her now.”
“It is nearly a two-day journey to her cabin,” Bjorn said. “To be around people is a burden for her, as she sees their futures, good and bad, and it weighs upon her. So just as in Skaland, she lives in isolation.”
My eyes narrowed, suspicion filling my chest that all of this was more lies. That Saga was dead in truth, all of this a fabrication to manipulate me. But then Harald said, “Bjorn will take you to Saga. But first we have planned a feast for you.”
I didn’t want food. I wanted answers. “I wish to go to Saga now,” I said. “But I wish for you to take me, not Bjorn.”
“As much as I desire to see the woman of my heart, it is not possible for me to leave Hrafnheim right now. There is much requiring my attention after my long absence, none the least making plans to deal with Islund’s raids.” Harald tilted his head. “If you wish to wait a fortnight, I would gladly accompany you.”
“I don’t wish to wait.” I lifted my chin. “Anyone may guide me but him. I do not wish to be in his presence.”
“And I do not wish to deny the love of my life a visit from her son, from whom she has been long absent.” Harald’s tone was flat. “My goodwill stretches only so far, Freya. Be careful of testing its limits, especially when it comes to Saga’s happiness. She has endured enough hardship, and I won’t allow you to cause more.”
I bit my lower lip, torn for many reasons, including some I was unwilling to admit to myself.
“Bjorn is leaving at dawn to visit his mother,” Harald said. “Go with him or wait a fortnight and travel with me. Your choice.”
I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to be alone with Bjorn. Didn’t want to sit across a fire from him, or walk by his side, or sleep near him under the stars, because it hurt too much. Every time I looked at his face, I was reminded of how happy I’d been for that singular moment, and then the sensation of being gutted when the truth had been revealed. “Aren’t you worried he’ll try to steal me again?”
Bjorn gave a soft snort that sounded a great deal like ‘I don’t have a death wish,’ but Harald only shook his head. “No. But I do worry that you might take revenge on my son in his sleep, so I will send Skoll and Hati to protect him.”
“I don’t need your pets to protect me from Freya, Father,” Bjorn said.
Harald burst into laughter as though Bjorn’s words had been the greatest of comedy, then he wiped his cheeks and said, “The wolves will come with you, my son, and you will leave at dawn.”
“Seems unnecessarily early.”
All amusement vanished from Harald’s face. “Your absence these long years has taken a toll on your mother, boy. While Freya has a choice of whether to go with you or not,youwill ride to see your mother at dawn without argument.”
Everyone in the hall fell silent. For my part, it was because of the weight of authority in Harald’s voice. A tone I’d not heard him use but which reminded me that he was king of all of Nordeland for a reason. Bjorn alone appeared uncowed as he stared Harald down in a battle ofwills, though whether it was over the request itself or the fact it had been delivered as an order, I didn’t know. Bjorn’s gaze moved from Harald to me for a heartbeat, green eyes dark with some inner debate, and then he said, “As you say, Father. I’ll leave at dawn.”
The tension dissipated in a rush and everyone, including me, took a breath.
