Page 43 of A Curse Carved in Bone
“Saga?” I dropped to my knees before her. “Has Snorri already set sail? How much time do we have?”
“I do not know. It could be tomorrow. A year from now. Or a decade.” Bjorn’s mother wiped tears from her face. “All I know is that in your name, Nordeland will suffer.”
And seers could not lie.
I sat down heavily, melted snow and mud soaking into my trousers. No matter how I felt about Nordeland, this was not a future I wanted. Not a war I wanted.
I couldn’t escape it by running—that was growing clearer to me by the second.
“Whatever you are thinking, push it from your thoughts.” Bjorn grasped my shoulders. “Gathering an army and the ships needed to transport it takes time. There is no reason to believe he’s already set sail, because that borders on impossibility. We head to the coast and ensure that we are seen by merchants boarding a ship sailing south. Leave a trail that he cannot deny or, at least, the jarls who are sworn to him cannot deny.” His grip tightened. “Snorri doesn’t know you have Hel’s magic. He doesn’t know what you can do. There is only so much Skaland will risk for the sake of a magic shield.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Snorri’s face consumed my thoughts, his expression filled with fanatical self-certainty. “It’s not just me he wants—it’s revenge against Harald. And in my name, he now has an army capable of achieving it.”
Disappearing south would change nothing. Hiding in the wilds like Saga would change nothing.Dyingwould change nothing. All Snorri needed was my name, his zealotry, and the bad blood between the nations to unite Skaland’s clans against Nordeland. War was coming. Could be sailing this way right now.
How could I stopit?
Saga had said that the only way to change fate was to do something the Norns had never considered I might do. Which meant somethingI’dnever considered doing.
Or…did it mean something Icouldn’tdo?
The answer rose in my chest. The one path I’d yet to take a step down because I’d sworn a blood oath forbiddingit.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “I have to cut Snorri’s thread.”
It was the determination in Freya’s eyes more than the words she spoke that sent a jolt of trepidation through my guts. “Excellent,” I grumbled. “Our plan is for you to do the one thing that you cannot do. As always, Born-in-Fire, your plans fill me with the utmost confidence of our certain success.”
Instead of rising to my bait, Freya only fixed me with an emotionless stare. “Call me to arms.”
“What?” I demanded, even as I heard my mother suck in a breath of air.
“The tendency to shout must run in the family,” Freya said, “because both of you argued at top volume and I heard every word. Ifallegiancemeans that I must answer a call to arms, you can do so just as easily as Snorri. So call me to arms and name him your enemy.”
Everything felt suddenly distant, as though I watched myself from afar.
“And once you do that, I will call upon Hel to take his soul to Helheim.” Her chin trembled slightly, betraying that she wasn’t as calm as she was pretending.
“You said you refused to use Hel’s gift again,” I said. “You said that you did not believe it a power a mortal should wield.”
“I did say that.” Freya inclined her head in acknowledgment. “And I feel the same way, which is why I believe this is the right path.”
There was no denying the logic but every part of me recoiled at the idea of using the oath my piece-of-weasel-shit of a sire had forced upon her. At compelling her to do something, even at her request. “No. If this is the path you wish to walk, then walk it. But it will not be on my orders.”
Freya made a noise of disgust. “You will have my back until the gates of Valhalla, will you? Except only on your terms.”
“Having your back doesn’t mean agreeing to every wild scheme you come up with.”
She scowled at me. “I can’t look at you anymore.” Nodding at my mother, Freya strode back to the cabin, wolves at her heels.
“I understand your concerns, my son. But by standing on morality, you put her at greater risk.”
My mother had risen to her feet, her cloak wrapped tightly around her despite the heat of the sun now fully risen in the sky.
“If you harness her oath first, there is a good chance that Snorri will hold no power over her,” my mother said. “Or at least, much less power. If you allow her to go on her own, all it will take is one word of command naming Nordeland her enemy and Freya will turn on us. The horror I just witnessed will become reality.”
“Or perhaps this is how it becomes reality,” I snapped. “By compelling her to march straight toward him. Who is to say if she remembered the words correctly or if there is some nuance of magic Ylva used that will grant Snorri more control? It’s better for Freya to run. To get as far away from Nordeland as she can.”
“Do you truly believe that?” my mother asked. “Or do you see that path as holding a higher hope for you reclaiming Freya’s heart?”
