Freya shook her head, still fuming.
“How do you know they have vacancies? They could be full. Then where would we go? We’ll be sleeping in the streets, or dead asleep on our horses,” Hedda said, condescending. “I’ll go ask the innkeeper.”
She stormed off, leaving Freya to stew in the wake of her anger.
Freya kept her focus on a few notches in the table that looked vaguely like a bird. She did not know how or when to order rooms at an inn—just another skill she lacked. Freya had not been raised in a place where you could hop over to entertainment after a long day of work. It would have been unfathomable to her just yesterday that this was something she needed to know to protect her queen.
Hedda came back, and her jaw was looser than it had been. She sat on the bench next to Freya and pushed the tankard away from them.
“Two rooms, four baths,” she said.
“Four baths,” Freya repeated, not understanding.
Hedda looked like she was about to tell Freya off. She swallowed and spoke. “They have a tub in the back, and they fill it for each customer who buys a bath. Four baths.”
“Ah,” Freya said. She smelled like horses and rain, but she did not like the idea of removing her clothes and weapons in an unknown venue. “And the rooms?”
“Hrothgar and I in one, and you and Astrid in the other. Hrothgar and I will take turns sleeping and pretending to be drunk in front of your door to guard Astrid.”
Freya wet her lips. “You can share a room with Astrid. I’ll take the shift.”
“Astrid,” Hedda started, turning to Freya, “is my friend, and has been for many, many years. She does not allow herself many opportunities for indulgence.”
“Hedda—”
But Hedda shook her head, cutting Freya off. The idea of Hedda helping Freya and Astrid have a night to themselves was more than slightly humiliating.
“We may be her félag,” Hedda said, “but you are her true bodyguard. So, guard her.”
Chapter Twenty
By the time Astrid’s feet grew sore and her eyes had begun to droop, she sought out Freya’s watchful gaze from the table—and didn’t find it.
Maybe Freya had gone back after all, knowing Astrid would be safe under Hedda and Hrothgar’s protection. Astrid’s heart hurt to think of the possibility. She wanted to spend time with Freya. They had so much to discuss.
Hedda offered no answers as to Freya’s whereabouts as she guided Astrid to a hot bath. She turned her back to guard the doorway.
The water was hot and refreshing against Astrid’s skin. It was one thing to bathe in her own rooms back in the castle, but it was another to do it in the soft candlelight of somewhere different. The castle had undoubtedly nicer facilities, but the luxury of the experience wasn’t lost on Astrid. It reminded her of days past. Summers with her parents, stopping at inns and taverns when she’d been too young to participate in the drink and dance, smuggling a book up to the rented rooms and reading them bycandlelight until, exhausted and happy, her parents had come up to join them.
She thought of the past often lately. Perhaps, in Ruga’s absence, the memories came quicker, tied hand-in-hand with missing her. The two had exchanged letters, but where Ruga shared much about her time in Branwen, Astrid found it hard to put her feelings and experiences into words, and so she kept her responses brief. Ruga was busy adjusting to her new life; Astrid did not want to burden her more than she already had.
Perhaps, also, Astrid’s evolving relationship to Freya made her wish she was better positioned to woo her properly.
Astrid imagined how she would have courted someone back when she wasn’t queen: Flowers. A night on the town. Taking Freya to Astrid’s favorite spots. Traveling together, showing off the skills she’d learned from her childhood for navigation, for finding hidden gems where no one knew to look.
Astrid mourned the experiences she could not have, even as she acknowledged Freya would not be in her life had Astrid never become queen.
When the bath was over, and Astrid had donned a clean robe, Hedda escorted Astrid up to the rooms. Though it was cool and wet outside, the inside was warm, and Astrid looked forward to whatever soft, worn mattress the room would have.
“We will take turns guarding you tonight,” Hedda said. “Freya is aware of the plan.”
“Did she leave long ago?” Astrid asked.
Hedda blinked. “Leave?”
There was noise from within the room. Astrid’s heart raced; her body warmed. “She’s here?”
In response, Hedda knocked on the door.
