“You see, a thrall must know his place.”
With a harsh motion, she yanked his head back, exposing his throat. Thori swallowed down a pained hiss as she tightened her grip. Her blade flashed in the dim light of Sveinn’s lantern, and for a second, Thori was sure she would slit his throat there and then. But instead, she brought it to his hair, slicing through the thick locks.
“No,” Thori choked, uselessly trying to break her grip.
Heart pounding, he was overwhelmed by rage and despair.How could she?With each swipe of the blade, she stole his very identity. With each strand, a piece of his status as a warrior-god was taken from him; each cut a cruel reminder of his humiliation. When she finished, Thori’s once-proud mane was reduced to a short, ragged cut.
“There,” Svanhild said, stepping back to admire her work. “A thrall should look the part.”
Thori met her gaze defiantly, refusing to let her see the anguish he felt.
“You’re both dead. Whatever you do from now on, the wrath of theÆsirwill come for you.”
Svanhild only snickered at his words. How could she remain so bloody confident in the face of his threats?
“Save your breath, Odinsson. You’ll need your strength.”
She patted his cheek like one would pat a horse, and Thori seethed with anger. He would survive this, and he would repay Svanhild and Sveinn with death. At least Frey and the rest of hisliðwere safe for now.
three
Andora
Thori
The hours had twisted and blurred since his capture. Drifting in and out of consciousness, Thori was chained to the mast of Sveinn’s longship, feeling like the manacles were slowly sapping away his strength. What kind ofseiðrhad Svanhild woven into them? The legends told about indestructible, enchanted shackles created from the intestines of some hapless person, powerful enough to bind a god. Was that what the priestess had done? Thori felt sick.
At some point, he must have fallen into a fitful sleep, because his mind wandered on dark dream roads. He saw his siblings, Freyja and Frey, back in Asgard, golden and laughing. How Thori wished they would stay safe. He could only hope that Rune had brought Frey home and that their healers could treat his wound. It hadn’t looked too bad, but maybe Svanhild’s bloodyvölurhad cursed the arrows with their illseiðr.
Thori woke up with a start. Sore from the night he’d spent slumped in his chains, his wrists and shoulders burned with the strain of holding his weight. Suppressing a groan, hestraightened and shuddered. It was still dark, but there was a faint glow above the mountains. Dawn was near.
Sveinn’s warriors rowed in silence, and Thori wondered how far the raiders’ two remaining ships had come since their skirmish. A day’s journey could take a longship far, especially if there werevölurto help them along the way. Freyja would sendeinherito look for him, no doubt, but would they be able to find him?
“The fjords of my home are as vast as they are prosperous.”
Svanhild appeared next to him like a ghost. He’d heard neither her footsteps nor the rustling of her cloak.Hel, although he could see her breath forming little white puffs in the morning chill, she seemed more like a creature that had crawled from the depths of Niflheim than a human woman.
“The verdant realm promises rich spoils,” Thori retorted haughtily. “A fact known not only to theÆsirand theJötnar.”
No, Sveinn and Svanhild wereVanirthemselves, but Thori would have taken any bet that they weren’t sailing in the name of Queen Vellamo of Vanaheim. Perhaps Sveinn had ventured a few forays to the shores of neighboring realms, but Thori was certain that he had also raided the settlements of his own people.
Svanhild only chuckled at his insinuation.
“I dreamed of you tonight.”
Thori froze.
Svanhild was a seeress, avala. If she’d taken a glimpse at his future—
“How flattering,” he said, feigning disinterest. He didn’t want to hear her poisoned words of prophecy, but they were inescapable. Not even a god could fool his fate.
She grinned and looked at the shore, bathed in the first light of dawn. Her white dress and gray sealskin coat made her seem more ethereal than ever, as if she were only a wraith, not really there.
“You’ll never raid Vanaheim again. I’ve seen your future. I’ve seen yourmaster. You’ll never escape him.”
Master? What nonsense was she talking about? What wasneversupposed to mean?
“You must be mistaken, priestess,” Thori countered. “I was foretold a kingdom and a fortunate marriage at birth.”
