“Even if I knew I only had twenty years with Ruga, I would not shy away. And I don’t regret it now that it’s over.”
Tears lined Astrid’s eyes. How could she overcome the constant feeling of dread toward her future? Wyrd was its own ever-looming threat. All things came to an end—life, her rule, this queendom. One day all would be nothing.
“Oh, Hedda,” Astrid said, putting her face in her hands. “Why did I let it go so far?”
“You get so few of the things you want,” Hedda said, which Astrid found generous, considering Hedda’s own life, sacrificing in the name of her queen. “How long have you been…?”
“Only recently,” Astrid said. Her cheeks were warm; she blamed it on the fire roaring in the hearth. “Right before the arrow.”
Hedda tilted her head. “We should go back.”
“Why?”
“Freya will be worried sick about you. She’ll know you’re missing.”
“Not until morning. None of the félag know,” Astrid said.
“She has a sixth sense for you,” said Hedda, “and its name is Brenn.”
Astrid liked Brenn. Brenn was rational and steady where Astrid was not, and Astrid trusted Brenn’s discretion. If Brenn knew Astrid was gone, then she also knew there was no danger to her.
“I want more time,” Astrid said. It seemed they would not be staying the night after all, but the idea of getting back on their horses and leaving was less appealing than jumping into the ocean and letting the water take her where it would.
“Must I say it?” Hedda set her stein on the table hard enough to draw eyes from the next group over. “It was foolish of you to come all the way out here when there’s been a threat on your life. You do not have the luxury of running away when your feelings get in the way of your ability to rule.”
“Hedda…”
Hedda’s voice became low and dangerous. “When you put yourself at risk, you put us all at risk. I am the only one here to protect you now.”
“Thank you for joining me, Hedda.”
Hedda stiffened. “I will serve you, no matter how little sense I think you have. I hope we can go back soon, if you don’t mind my saying so. Freya will tear the castle apart searching for you.”
Did Hedda really think Astrid so out of her wits? Astrid was well aware of how irrational her actions were, but Hedda couldn’t understand what it was like to be trapped in that room. Astrid was already trapped in so many ways. She could not handle one more if it killed her.
In one aspect, Hedda was right: whenever Freya discovered her missing, she would think the worst. Astrid hoped Brenn would be around to reassure her, then felt a pang of guilt that she was relying on other people to pay the price for her actions once more.
“I wish Freya was here,” she mumbled into her stein.
Hedda snorted. “Lovesick is what you are.” She looked over Astrid’s shoulder, and her eyes widened.
“What?” Astrid hissed, suddenly alert. “Do we have to—?”
A familiar pattern of footsteps perked Astrid’s ears like a dog’s. A soft squelching accompanied every near-silent step alongside the stride of a much larger person.
Slowly, she turned. Freya’s face was unreadable and calculated, but her fists were clenched, her stance ready forcombat. At her side, Hrothgar walked with their head down. Traveling with an angry Freya Wedd would do that to a person.
When they reached the table, Astrid noted the blaze in Freya’s eyes, but also the relief. She had undoubtedly caused Freya an immense amount of worry.
“I thought something bad had happened to you,” Freya said. She wiped wet hair out of her eyes and sat lightly on the bench beside Astrid. Their thighs just touched.
Hrothgar sat next to Hedda on the other side. The two exchanged a look, and Hedda nodded. Astrid had put them in the awkward position of obeying her while protecting her, and they had done so.
Astrid struggled to formulate an appropriate response under Freya’s burning gaze. “I’m so sorry,” she tried.
“I wish you had told me what you were planning.” Freya took the stein from Astrid and drank it down to the bottom.
“It was an impulsive decision,” Hedda chimed in. “Wrangle your queen for us, shadow. We’ve done our part.”
