“What?” Astrid asked, blinking.
“We’ll stay for the night. You can continue to drink and dance.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Freya was frantic now—she would give Astrid this one night off. How many more would Astrid be able to have? She was a good queen, a good friend. She deserved this.
Freya herself had encouraged Astrid to seize the moment when it came to acting on her feelings. It would be hypocritical to take that back now.
Astrid’s expression was full of hope. “It will give Hedda a heart attack.”
“And Hrothgar,” Freya reminded her gently.
“Do you think we can get them to relax?”
“No,” Freya said, laughing.
“Well, I am going to try.”
Freya let Astrid lead her back into the inn.
With new expectations set for the evening, Freya was able to stuff down her discomfort with a bit of stew. She kept her examination of the room subtle, searching out sharp weapons and sharper eyes. Dourly, Hedda sat by her side, drinking more mead than a guard on-duty reasonably should. Freya considered saying something.
She decided not to.
Astrid convinced Hrothgar to dance with her. Freya wondered at this side of Hrothgar, too—serious Hrothgar, sipping from a passerby’s offered ale to cool down. Freya had never observed them drinking before.
When the stranger offered the same tankard to Astrid, Astrid met Freya’s eyes and shook her head, and Freya nodded.
Freya did not care so much if Hrothgar was poisoned over the queen, she noted dryly.
As time passed, and no one keeled over from poisoned mead or pointed steel, Freya started to relax. She was not enjoying herself—not exactly—but she couldn’t deny the openness on Astrid’s face as she looped Hrothgar into yet another dance. This was not a place where anyone would be looking for their queen. Hedda was smart enough to have done everything she could to ensure they were not followed to the Rosebriar Inn.
Hedda was quiet throughout the night, only the slurps of her drink keeping Freya company. Freya was just getting used to it when Hedda finally spoke.
“’Reya,” she slurred.
Freya glanced to the side. Drunk Hedda had made quite a spectacle of herself the last time Freya had seen her like this. Freya needed to tread lightly. “Yes?”
“Next time you do one of yourschemes,” Hedda said, spitting the last word, “I want to be in the know.”
Freya bit back a retort about how her schemes kept the queen and country safe. “What do you mean?” she asked instead.
“I want to be involved.” Hedda peered into her drink, morose. “When there is the chance to be involved. The queen does not trust me. I need to prove myself.”
“I don’t trust you either,” Freya said, unable to help herself.
“I don’t care about your damn trust, Freya.”
Freya considered what Hedda was really asking for. She didn’t want to be screwed over again without notice. Or did she want extra assignments? She was already working extra.
“Very well,” Freya said, thinking she understood, but wondering if she would actually be able to give Hedda what she wanted. “I will let you in on my next…scheme.”
Hedda grunted. “Weird that someone who wasn’t alive at the start of Astrid’s reign has so much power.” She stood from the table as Freya’s face blazed red.
As if Freya had not earned her place here, just like Hedda felt she had. And Freya had not done anything to sabotage her position, either. She was always perfect. She had to be perfect.
“Did you reserve the rooms yet?” Hedda asked.
