“I felt you.” She stands, stretching her arms before tucking the fur around her and collapsing on the bed. “I am a Volva. We can feel energies. You will too, or you probably do already without noticing. You were very emotional, hiding behind the lavvu. I felt you.”
“What? But… Can all Volvas feel each other?”
“Oh, gods no, that would be horrible. You will learn to mask it. I mask it most of the time. Sometimes I allow it to show. Now, Kilda, try the fucking enchantment.”
I nod. Focus returns. I find my inner calm, my inner peace. My mind is emptied. A serene pool. Yggdrasil grows there. It’s like I feel a vibration in my hands. I release. Nothing. Fuck.
I don’t knowhow long it’s been. It’s probably the thirtieth time I try to enchant this piece of bone Ylvin threw at me. I place yet another log on the fire, preferring to work in an orange glow rather than total darkness. Let’s try again.
The gods in Asgard, granting me power. I am a channel for them. Let me be the tool they use to achieve their goals. Allow me to?—
“For fuck’s sake, Kilda,” shouts Ylvin. “So boring.”
She raises herself from her bed. For a brief second, my brain reacts to her naked form, but I quickly discard the feeling. I thought she had been sleeping, using the silence of my enchanting to rest. As if she needed it.
My teacher grabs a little pot, quickly tossing some herbs, mushrooms, and flowers into it. She slaps it on the embers before pouring in water from a bucket.
“What are you doing?” she asks as she sprinkles a pinch of salt into her potion.
“I’m trying to encha?—”
“What is your process?”
“Oh, uh, I find my center, ask the gods for power… I don’t know.”
I toss my hands in the air. It’s hard to mask my frustration. Regret overwhelms me as I realize I’ve complained with the tone of a sulking child. Ylvin laughs, not in pleasure, but mockery.
“Find your center.” She shakes her head. “Start by finding your own asshole.”
My cheeks heat up as I lower my gaze.
“Why are you looking down, girl?” Ylvin says as she puts on her blue robe.
“I don’t wish to anger you, Ylvin. I’ve already learned so much.”
“I’m happy you feel that way, but you’ve only learned to crack your own shell, to peek through the bushes of your own social restriction, so to speak.”
Peek through the bushes? Is she fucking with me? Has Ari told her? He promised, he swore on his grave and honor. The bastard.
“Are… Are you sure I have it in me? To be a Volva?”
“Silly child. I told you, I see it in you. I’ve felt it.”
“Do you feel it now?” I ask. This concept of feeling magical energies fascinates me. If anything, I’m sure I felt what she describes when I first met her. And the hammer, in the hall… I hadn’t known. Maybe Ylvin allowed me to touch her energies? Lowered her masking spell?
She howls in laughter.
“My dear, I smell you like a wolf does a wounded sheep. I’ve felt your fangs, but now, I just want to bite into your throat.”
Savage imagery. But then, Ylvin is a savage. A she-wolf. I laugh gingerly, not sure how to react. I want to keep practicing—I want my fangs. I want to howl at the moon. Like Ylvin.
“Uh,” I start. “Maybe it’s the piece of bone? Do you have one with a rune on it maybe?”
“A rune?”
“Yes, to help me channel my energies.”
Ylvin moves quickly, crossing the room in a second and snatching the piece of bone in front of me. She cups it in her hands, staring into my eyes as she bares her teeth. Her eyes widen as she releases a low growl. The sound of a predator.
