Astrid did not find this so humorous. “Ill or pregnant,” she repeated.
“Yes, in your old rooms.”
This caught Astrid’s attention. “Surely people suspect something. My félag is guardingtheserooms, not those. There has been an influx of sizable furniture to this part of the castle.”
“We are merely rearranging since our guests have left,” Freya said. “And… We have some people guarding your old rooms, too. This part of the castle has been closed off for renovations.”
Astrid found it hard to believe anyone would buy such a simple excuse, that there would need to be so many guards and food coming and going from this space and no one would bat an eye.
“We have a decoy,” Freya admitted. “That is why I have not had all of your clothes delivered to you. Sigurd from the félag has been wearing your dresses and walking out on the balcony to bait a potential repeat attempt by an assassin. I have people on the ground, too, waiting for someone to take the bait.”
“Freya,” Astrid gasped. “That’s too dangerous. I demand you put a stop to it at once.”
Freya looked up at Astrid then. Astrid nearly faltered under the intensity of Freya’s gaze. It was as though Freya had pierced Astrid with an arrow right through her heart.
“Astrid,” she said firmly, “I will protect you at any cost. Your félag swore to serve you for the rest of their lives. Sigurd volunteered when I brought up the idea.”
Astrid could be sick. When would queenhood stop risking others and start focusing on actual ruling, making important decisions, keeping the peace? All she’d done since ascending to the throne was climb on the backs of her friends and allies as she ground them into the dirt under her heel.
She was damned sick of it.
“I need to get out of here, Freya,” she said. “Please.”
Freya closed her eyes. Stood from her stool, walked to Astrid. She bent to press a kiss to Astrid’s cheek.
Desperately, Astrid seized her arm. “Please,” she repeated. From the corner of the room, the cat mewled as though pleading her case with her. “Freya.”
“I think it’s better if these become your permanent rooms,” Freya said. “I will let you know when I think it’s safe for you to leave. Can you do this for me? Can you stay here?”
“This is a cage,” Astrid said. “I need a window. I need air, natural light. I need you.”
Freya sat on the bed. Astrid found it hard to read her expression; her guard was up, her brows pinched.
“I can’t focus on figuring this out unless you’re safe,” Freya said. “I know it’s frustrating. I’m sorry you feel trapped. I’m trying everything I can to make this box welcoming.” She threw up her hands, gesturing to the room.
She had done well, if one could make a prison feel like home. Someone had brought a tapestry earlier that day, and Astrid recognized her sister’s handiwork. It made her miss Ruga so very much.
“I am the queen. I will not be stuffed in this prison. I don’t care so much about an assassin. They failed, didn’t they? The castle is only inhabited by people you know and approve of?”
Freya scowled. “Assassins are dedicated. Anyone could bide their time for years upon years, waiting for the right moment to strike. You can never really know someone.”
“I knowyou,” Astrid said, hurt.
Freya’s mouth opened and closed. She reached for Astrid’s horn and gently guided Astrid’s head to her shoulder. “Do you have a solution that works for both of us?” Freya asked.
That odd laugh Astrid had been using lately nearly came back. A human who had only been here for ten years had so much influence over an orc queen who had ruled for fifty. It was funny, in a gallows-humor sort of way.
Freya placed a hand on Astrid’s hair, gently pinning Astrid to her shoulder. Astrid felt warm inside and out. Secure. Held. Like Freya would always be there.
It was obvious they wouldn’t come to a conclusion tonight. When Freya got up to leave, Astrid tugged Freya toward her, and Freya curled up under the covers, and for a little while, Astrid did not feel so trapped.
Over the next few days, Astrid began enticing members of her félag to keep her company. They engaged in the same activities the guards did to pass time in the barracks. Astrid remembered how to play the card games, and she was excellent at Tafl. It helped to pretendshewas the soldier, defending someone else, playing games during an uneventful overnight shift.
She asked Hrothgar about the increased defenses; she sat across from a terse Hedda, who moved pieces around the Tafl board in silence.
At night, Freya would come and update Astrid. Nothing had changed. No more clues had been unearthed, and there were no new suspects. Freya had sent several of the staff she did not know well home on leave, and in doing so, had caused a bit of controversy. Worse, she had done it through Varin, who was bitter about the whole thing.
Astrid slept well with Freya at her side, but it was another thing during the day. She felt she was searching out one distraction after another to fill the time. Conversations with the guards grew bland fast. They did not dare to speak of certain things with their queen, not even those who had served with her as fellow soldiers. The books lost their luster or made her miss the outdoors. One description of a garden brought her nearly to tears.
