I’m a simple fake. Even the hammer’s curse—what do I know? Nothing. I felt the bite of frost, yes. Snapping at me. What if I woke it? What if I am the one summoning giants? In any case, I am a fraud.
How could Odin guide me when I constantly bend the truth? Constantly fool those closest to me? How can Freya share her magic with me? Let her blessings flow through my veins?
Groa warned me of this. What gods honor the honorless?
That’s probably why the jarl is meeting a wise-woman. To put me to the test. To bring to light my lures and shadows. My lies.
Me? A Volva? A practitioner of Seidr? I choke out a hollow laugh. What a joke. I can barely remember the herbs I drink in my tea, let alone perform a ritual or enchantment. What a fucking joke.
I am closer to Loki, the trickster. The Jotnar bastard. Surely no god in Asgard would…
Movement outside the door. I lie down quickly, pretending to sleep. My breath hitches. I go still as a hunted hare. A woman enters—but I hadn’t noticed anyone leaving. She brings cold night air with her, cutting through the stale warmth. What could she possibly have been doing so late? She sniffles, like me. I have already guessed who it is. For a fleeting second, I see her in the moonlight.
Eidunn, with a face so sad it could be her husband’s funeral. If she had one. Wet cheeks shine in the pale light. Her grief fits mine like two pieces of a broken cup.
It may be selfish, but relief washes over me. I am not alone. I am not the only one with cause for tears. She breathes heavily, trying to control her running nose.
Lying in the dark, we suppress our sorrow. Together. I hope she feels like I do. I hope she is comforted by us sharing in misery.
My thoughts loosen, drifting like leaves on a river. Images take hold as fast as they vanish. Horses gallop. The goddess of dreams is calling. I’m invited to darkness as Njorun plants the seed of a vision in my mind.
Peace blooms.
CHAPTER 9
“Yesterday I traveled to meet a Volva.”
The jarl sits on his throne, lit by daylight streaming through the open hall doors. I don’t tell him that I know where he’s been. Like Vidar said—not my business. Ironic since he was the one who told me the jarl’s business.
My stomach tingles at the thought of a true Volva judging my abilities. Or rather, lack thereof. I fidget as the man beside me clears his throat.
“Fascinating, Jarl Sigurd,” says the skald, the only other person in the room. “May I ask why?”
“You may, and I will answer,” says Sigurd before pausing for effect. “I asked about the inscriptions on my hammer.”
I knew it. He is testing me. They will find me out. I will be punished, branded a liar. Hated. What does it matter? I am escaping anyway. Maybe. Probably.
“I am eager to learn, my jarl,” says the skald. He really knows how to stroke another man’s ego. Have I ever met anyone so eager to please? I think not. What’s wrong with him?
“I was pleased, Kilda, you read runes correctly. The hammer is cursed,” Sigurd says. “I was less pleased that someone I viewed as an ally would lay a curse over my hall.”
“A disgrace,” says the skald.
By the gods, this man. I can’t decide if he’s harmless or the type to ruin women with a single look. His smile is sharp as daggers.
“Indeed, it is, Ari,” says the jarl. I throw a glance at the skald. Ari—means eagle. He’s more like a crow, a crooked crow. He catches me looking at him and gives me a quick wink. Stepping forward, he stretches out his arms dramatically as he speaks.
“Jarl Sigurd, mighty Odin blessed us with runes, please tell us how your soon-to-be buried enemies abused the language of the Gods to salt the earth you tend.”
The man really gets on my nerves, but even I have to admit—he carries himself with rugged elegance. You could picture him reciting tales of battles to the warriors of Valhalla, or entertaining Frigga and her ladies with poems that grew from warm to boiling. A strange combination—a natural commanding aura paired with blatant flattery. I’ll have to keep an eye on him.
“The Volva told me, like Kilda said, that it is an invitation. Someone wishes to lift the veil. The girl speaks the truth.”
“A lying thief who tells the truth?” Ari widens his eyes. “Now I’ve seen it all.”
The jarl grins, amused.
“Let the girl breathe, skald,” he says. “I hope to see her educated.”
