It wasn’t until Hrothgar stood from their stool and stretched their legs after a particularly grueling game of Tafl that the idea came to Astrid. She’d taken to playing with Hrothgar over the others. Some of them thought, because she was queen, she should win, and Hrothgar never let her off easy.
They were of nearly the same height and build. Standing next to them, Astrid was directly at eye level. Their hair was shorter, and their attire more masculine than Astrid sometimes wore, but it wasn’t a bad idea.
After all, Freya had employed one decoy already.
Chapter Seventeen
Aweek had passed since the assassination attempt, and Freya was no closer to finding the culprit.
When she’d served under human warlords, Freya had detected spies within hours of their appearance. Under Ulfur, she’d worked even harder to prove her place. Never in her career had she taken this long to detect and eradicate an intruder.
Here, when it mattered most, she was failing.
The queen’s fake sickness could only last so long. Soon, even the most loyal staff would suspect Astrid of either hiding or dying.
All of Freya’s initial suspicions were correct: An arrow shot via crossbow from the ground by someone who knew the layout of the castle. This barely narrowed down her suspect list. Many people down to the bakers in the kitchens liked to practice archery. The idea that someone in the castle was capable of hurting the queen raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
“She’s safe,” Brenn assured Freya for the millionth time.
Freya had taken to having Brenn around in case Brenn was struck by the odd vision from the goddess. Some guidance on where to go from here would be much appreciated from the heavens, no matter how little deference Freya displayed.
The problem was not just that it was rare for Brenn to be overcome with a prophetic vision. Within the castle close, Brenn’s magic was intermingled with those around her. She could perform her usual seer ceremony, but everyone’s wyrd would intermingle, confusing her and clouding her visions. It was part of the reason she lived isolated from society.
As far as Freya knew, this feature was unique to Brenn. Brenn had never meshed well with the priestesses in Vakker’s temple. The orcish magic was too dissimilar from what Brenn had been taught. It did not sit well with the orc priestesses that Brenn’s magic still worked despite its vast differences.
Brenn had not been struck by any visions, mixed wyrd or not, but Freya had to admit she still appreciated the company. Freya was a gale, sweeping through the castle; Brenn was a cool breeze, calm and steady.
Freya stood at the balcony of a previous Mara rendezvous site, watching her breath puff out into the chill air of the night. Answers would not come to her from the skies. She had exhausted every option she could think of, short of sending everyone away from Astrid or relocating Astrid to an abandoned island.
Brenn cleared her throat, and Freya’s thoughts scattered.
“I have a hunch,” Brenn said. “Something has happened outside of the castle.”
Freya stiffened. “What kind of something?”
“Something you’ll want to investigate.”
Brenn’s eyes were sad in the dim light of the moon. Freya could ascertain why: Brenn had warned Freya against her feelings for the queen, and she knew Freya had acted on them.
But she hadn’t acted on them since. Not unless holding the queen at night counted. Freya suspected that Brenn would, indeed, count this.
Freya huffed in one last frigid breath of air and turned on her heel.
When Freya and Brenn reached the castle’s outer wall, Freya wanted nothing more than to turn around. Sitting in the grass just beyond the gates were Guthmar and his husband. Guthmar swayed as if pushed by the wind.
“Shadow!” he slurred when he caught sight of Freya.
Brenn’s hand brushed the bare skin above Freya’s wrist, and Freya forced herself to focus.Thiswas what Brenn wanted her to investigate? She would have been better off moping on the balcony.
“Sorry,” Tassi said. There was a clarity to his expression Freya had never seen on Guthmar—something akin to guilt. “He’s bored.”
“Did you know a shadow can exist without the object which casts it?” said Guthmar.
“What is he babbling about?” Freya’s gloved fist tightened. She forced her fingers to relax.
“It’s nothing,” Tassi said. “He has had some mead.”
“So I see.”
