A conflicted look crossed Freya’s face. “And you weren’t pushed by—”
“No,” Astrid said. She grabbed Freya’s shoulder with her free hand. “Donotassume it’s the ambassador, please. I tripped. I swear.”
The muscles of Freya’s shoulder were tense under Astrid’s touch. Astrid released her and Freya’s jaw clenched. “I am sorry I was not there.”
Ah, stars. Freya was taking the tumble personally, as if she could save Astrid from the blunt impact of her own clumsiness.
“Her Majesty needs to rest,” Brenn said to Freya.
“Very well. Rest away,” said Freya, and pulled a chair up to the bed.
Astrid closed her eyes. She was awfully tired, and she was sure her exhaustion extended beyond the fatigue of the healing magic. Freya and Brenn continued to talk in hushed voices, lulling Astrid into a deep, pleasant slumber.
When Astrid woke, it took a moment for her to remember where she was. It was dark, her enclosed, curtained area in the infirmary lit by one tallow candle. At the edge of the curtains, Freya jabbed a finger into Hedda’s breastbone.
“Thirsty,” Astrid said weakly.
Freya rushed to her side and placed water into her good hand.
Greedily, Astrid drank. When she was finished, she said, “Why are you fighting with Hedda?”
“She has a problem with her demotion,” Freya said.
Exhaustion swept over Astrid. “Let me speak with her.”
“My Queen, she is quite angry, and you are vulnerable.”
“Hedda?” Astrid called. “You can come in.”
Hedda pushed past Freya. Freya looked as though she would protest, but she sulked back through the curtain, no doubt within earshot.
Hesitantly, Hedda took the seat where Freya had watched over Astrid. “Your Majesty.”
This wasn’t the Hedda Astrid knew. She was stiff, formal. Too formal for someone who had served at Astrid’s side since the beginning of her reign.
It was Astrid’s fault that Hedda was creating this distance. Astrid had put distance between them first.
“How are you feeling, Your Majesty?” Hedda asked.
Astrid’s head was clogged from whatever magic or drug Brenn had given her, her sensations dulled. She took that to mean she had sustained a great deal of bruising. “I am feeling well.”
Hedda nodded. She looked down into her clenched fists on her lap. “I have apologized before, and I will do it again,” she said. “I am terribly sorry for my outburst at the midsummer festival and the negative perception it brought upon the félag, and the damage it did to your reputation as our queen. I did not mean the things I said, even under the influence of too much mead.”
Astrid had heard this apology before. There was more hurt in it now than there was before—more remorse.
“I swore my loyalty to you all those fifty-two years ago,” Hedda went on, her voice tight, anger barely held back. “I have never wavered except the once.”
“Yes, Hedda. I know.”
“Then why have you demoted me?” Hedda said. “I thought… I thought I had made it up to you. I did everything you asked me to. Every last demeaning task. I cleaned and took terribly long overnight shifts. I have labored day and night beyond the hours of my duties.”
Astrid’s sluggish brain worked hard to cycle through appropriate responses. “I appreciate the work you’ve put in. It is noticed. But Freya thought—”
“So this is Freya’s fault,” said Hedda. “Of course.”
Stars, what a mess this had become. “No. That’s not what I meant. Freya does not speak for me.”
“Perhaps Freya has too much influence overyou,” Hedda said, and the anger finally leaked into her voice.
