“She told me first!” confirms the little sister.
“I would never do that,” I say, rubbing the back of my head. Caught off guard. Children can be brutally honest and direct.
“Now, now,” says Thyra, amused at my discomfort. “Let’s not make promises we can’t keep. Surely you know that dreams often include seeds of truth, being a Volva and all.”
“I am loyal to Opdal,” I state simply.
“Easy words,” she replies. “Time will sho?—”
Sigurd interrupts her, a hint of menace in his voice.
“The two of you will build a bridge between you. I refuse to accept disharmony in my hall.”
“Yes, my lord,” I say as I bow my head.
“No disharmony,” says Thyra. “But trust is earned, not given.”
“Then give her a chance,” insists Sigurd.
“Very well,” sighs the Valkyrie-like lady. “As I was saying, time will show.”
Thyra’s face can’t hide her distaste for my presence. But I have seen within her. I saw the same dark depths there that I experienced under the river. Worse. A lonely yearning for peace, one way or the other. Thyra is afraid.
“Time will show, my lady,” I say, bowing my head to Sigurd and her as I leave. Best not to interact with the girls.
“We will be fine,” says Thyra to my back. “As long as you don’t curse me again.”
Again, she laughs at her own joke.
CHAPTER 48
My determination wanes. Light clouds of dust swirl around me as I walk along the road. Ragnhild’s dream unsettled me. How many stories abound of Volvas being called dark witches? Blamed for any evil and punished. Scapegoats. Thyra was joking about me cursing her, but what if someone had heard it? Rumors spread fast.
I consider retreating to my house, lying in bed, escaping the world. But the memory of Eidunn’s discolored lip stops me from conceding defeat. I haven’t even seen her today. Something must be done, even if every step feels like I’m dragging chains behind me. Enough is enough.
The midday sun hammers my head, causing sweat to flood from my skin. Or perhaps it’s my nerves. Fuck. I fidget with the sleeves of my robe. For the first time since my return from Ylvin’s, I am unsure. Am I taking it too far? Outing Njord’sabuse? He’s a local-born warrior. A close friend of Vidar. They are blood-brothers.
Still, Vidar said I could approach him for anything. That’s what he said—anything. Finally, I arrive. The men have been working on a long stone fence for the cows and goats.
Vidar is sitting with some other men on a portion of the wall that is already built, enjoying a pause with some food and ale. He sees me approaching, stands, and dusts crumbs from his hands and clothes. He bows in an exaggerated fashion.
“Lady Volva,” he says.
The other men nod briefly at me, avoiding eye contact. Maybe they are afraid of magical women, or do they consider me Vidar’s territory? One of them is Njord, with a scar running from brow to jaw, proof of battle. He’s big, almost as big as Vidar. These fucking Opdal men. I fully ignore the eyes of the man who is dishonoring my friend—the man I will accuse of abuse.
“Lord Vidar,” I reply with a bow of my head. “I would have words.”
“You may speak them,” he says.
Njord takes a deep swig from his cup.
“Under four eyes, if you would.”
Stepping forward, he gives his men a smug look. Like he’s charmed me or some other fantasy. Like he’s bedded me and I’m begging for another round. I guess the men have been talking about me when I’m not present, as they do. But I don’t give a fuck. I’m here for Eidunn.
“Tell me, then,” says Vidar, stretching his shoulders to fully fill his form.
“It’s… I… Oof…”
