Other warriors only manage to stand and gawk. I hear the clatter of Lachlan’s sword on the ground and turn back to him. His eyes are even wider, the wonder edging on complete shock, before he, too, sinks to one knee and bows while covering his heart with a fist.
“What’s happening?” I whisper to him.
He looks back up at me, smiling wildly. “It’s a blessing from Odin, Key—you’re gods blessed.”
“What does that mean?” My voice rises, but the light is beginning to dim back to the normal shimmer.
My necklace ceases its pulsing, settling into a gentle warmth. Our friends are still stuck in varying states of shock.
“It means,” Agatha’s voice carries across the grounds, “that Odin does recognize ye as the rightful heir to the throne and your unequivocal worth to carry his ax.”
Lachlan stands and grasps my hand. His touch grounds me in a way I desperately needed after just feeling untethered. “It means he sees ye and that you’re on the right path.”
***
The library smells of old parchment and mint. A fire crackles in the fireplace of a large sitting area. Comfortable couches and deep cushioned armchairs are placed around a navy handwoven rug.
Light flickers from torches anchored to the walls beside rows of bookshelves. Lancet windows are alight with sunlight cascading through leaves of the giant trees beside the castle. The sizable space is already crammed full of people, and servants carry even more chairs from the surrounding rooms.
My small group of friends take seats at a long table in front of where the other warriors begin gathering. Everyone is waiting for me. But as they get settled, I walk around the library, trying to calm my nerves and wrap my head around Odin’s blessing. There’s something unnerving about it.
To distract myself, I study the paintings that are hung all around the library, and attempt a few rounds of mindfulness. I pass by a painting of a large tree with several names carved onto the branches. An enormous painting of a Valkyrie astride a white stallion holding Odin’s ax snares my attention.
The beauty of the Valkyrie and her white wings reminds me of the Winged Victory statue in the Louvre. An unusualshimmer of light radiates from the painting, and I step closer to scrutinize it before I notice the candles placed at the sides.
My eyes scan over the surrounding paintings before falling on another sizable painting farther along the wall. Stepping closer, I admire the celebration on the canvas. It’s very festive and merry as the artist depicts people dancing and singing. Cedar boughs line the banquet hall and a large tree is decorated with scraps of fabric. This must be a painting of Yule.
That’s another item on my agenda to fix, the traditions. We need to celebrate all the old ways.
Resolves settles me and I square my shoulder. Much more prepared to address the room, I take my seat in the middle of my friends and stare out at the warriors in front of me. Mostly stoic faces stare back at me, but a few offer me comforting smiles.
I look at those faces when I address the room. “As many of you are aware, omens of the Great War have been increasing. In addition to restoring our war preparations, we also need to know what we’re up against. My knowledge is very limited, so if any of you have insight, we would love to hear it.” I gesture to my friends seated around me.
A warrior seated directly in front of us glances sidelong at Agatha, who is standing beside our table, and she subtly nods. The warrior, a Fairhair, if I remember correctly, with white hair and a long white beard, stands rigidly.
“My queen,” he addresses me and thumps a fist on his chest, his distinctive Scandinavian accent thickening the words. “I don’t know much about what we’re up against, but I do know we have allies.”
A frown tugs the corner of my lips down. “Go on,” I command.
Mathilda had only briefly mentioned something about our allies. But the bulk of that conversation was centered around what we’re up against.
“Our allies are the Tuadanaan Fae, the Valkyries of Valhalla, and Freya’s realm of Vanaheim. But without being able to travel to our allies, they won’t be of any use to us. Our first course of action needs to be restoring magic in our realm to open the gateways.”
Mathilda’s earlier wisdom comes back to my mind, counting us that only makes four realms against our enemies. We’ll be up against the giants, dragons, and demons alone if we can’t manage to reach our allies.
“Thank you …” I trail off, not knowing the man’s name.
“Bjorn,” he finishes for me, nodding his head in respect.
“Bjorn.” I smile down at him. “Does anyone have anything else to add? Or any questions?” I ask, looking around the room.
A petite red-headed woman with fiery blue eyes shoots a hand up. “Aye, my queen.” I nod at her. “The name’s Merida, I’m with Clan Campbell. Is it true you’re going to try and take the throne?”
The quiet chatter that had begun building ceases at her question.
Lachlan clears his throat next to me and raps his knuckles on the table, irritation simmering in his eyes.
But I stand and smile serenely at the room. “We’re all here for the same thing. We see the signs, we’re worried about our future, and we want to do something about it. Obviously, my knowledge of what we may be facing is murky at best. Mathilda,” I gesture in her direction, “has briefly explained to me that our enemies in this war would be monsters. Giants, demons, and dragons who see other beings as nothing but food or animals to be slaughtered.” I clear my throat and stand up straighter while gesturing with both hands to my friends beside me. “Our goal here is to protect this realm and all realms from the threat of destruction. If I have to take back my throne to do that, then so be it.” I shrug, violence glowing in my eyes. “But Iwill not sit idly by any further, allowing neglect to destroy our home.”
