“Yes,” the kitchen girl agreed.
Freya was not offended by this assessment.
“She’s handsome,” one of the orc attendants said, and Freya snapped to attention, puffing out her chest. She did a quick sweep of the table and caught the orc attendant ogling her. She was picking up on their names quickly—this was Hjotra.
Freya winked.
It couldn’t hurt, especially with Mara unavailable, to get close to Guthmar’s attendants. They could be good sources of inside information, and Freya could let out some of the tension that wound her up every day. Freya had been with an orc before, early on when she had come to Vakker—a woman from the kitchens who had since moved away. At the time, the orc’s penetrative tongue had been a shock, but Freya’d gotten used to it.
The idea of forging a new connection exhausted Freya, however. Questions about the scars on her hands. Boundaries to set, emotions to evade. The dynamic with Mara had been simple. With these new attendants, Freya didn’t know what to expect.
When Guthmar’s people left the hall, Freya followed them silently. They went to their respective assigned rooms without wandering. Good. She’d check in on them later and make sure they were still there, but for now, her confidence in the attendants being exactly who they said they were had grown.
Freya waited in the queen’s bedroom as Astrid removed her crown, brushed out her braid, and slid off her armbands. Freya was called over to undo the laces she’d done earlier. This time, she removed her gloves right away and got it over with. Untying the prisoner, she told herself. Not undressing her queen.
“What are you thinking, Freya?” Astrid asked.
Freya hadn’t spoken since they’d come back, so lost in thought had she been.
“I don’t like the ambassador switch.” Freya ran a hand through her hair and her fingers came back oily. She was suddenly embarrassed to be so close to the queen. When was the last time she’d washed her hair?
“What do we know of Guthmar?” Astrid asked. “Other than the things he told me at the table.”
Freya had noticed the ambassador’s penchant for talking someone’s ear off. “I haven’t gleaned as much as I’d like. He’s the king’s cousin—I’m sure he shared that with you. His attendants don’t think highly of him, though not for the reason you’d expect. He made many sojourns on the way up here. Not just in the towns, though he always wanted to try every variety of mead. Apparently, he also stopped for flowers he didn’t recognize. To smell them.”
“Well. That’s not exactly malicious, is it?”
“No. If anyone in his entourage was set on harming you, I doubt it would be him.”
“Harming me?” Astrid’s hand went to her throat. “I was more worried about… Court sabotage, maybe. Or Sydlig having information we don’t. How much influence he expects to have over me. The imposition of it all.”
Stars. Freya really was deprived of sleep. She hadn’t told Astrid about Brenn’s prediction, and she didn’t plan on doing so. She could help Astrid avoid catastrophe on her own.
“The political side. Of course,” said Freya.
“Have you any indication Guthmar’s entourage would cause me physical harm?”
“They would all be dead if I thought they would hurt you,” Freya said.
Her words hung in the air between them, and after an extended silence, Astrid laughed. “Was that a joke, Freya?”
“Too dry, I suppose.” Freya’s cheeks warmed. She wasn’t sure if it was a joke, but her sense of humor tended toward the dark side.
“I would have understood sooner if I wasn’t so exhausted,” said Astrid. “Listening to Guthmar all night… However long he plans to stay, it will feel like an eternity.”
“That, we do agree on, My Queen.”
Chapter Six
Astrid woke when the sky was still dark and promptly tripped over something at the foot of her bed.
She blinked away the last of sleep as she took in the sight of a crumpled human on the ground: Freya, swaddled in an eiderdown blanket. For a beat, she imagined something was wrong, that Freya was injured, and her pulse raced.
And then Freya moved.
“Whatever are you doing in here?” Astrid asked. Freya’s rooms were connected to Astrid’s, but she’d never known Freya to sleep in her bedroom.
To her credit, Freya did little other than grunt, massaging her side where Astrid had kicked her. “I couldn’t sleep.”
