“Only in thought, my lord.”
“By the gods,” says Thyra. “In thought? Then I have lain in Freya’s lap as she braided my hair.”
“You seem to carry Freya’s blessing, my lady,” I reply quickly. “Both her strength and love are present in your being.”
Thyra frowns at my compliment, like I hadn’t given it in good faith. Sigurd, however, is nodding, pleased at my replies.
“Very good,” he says. “Kilda, we will speak tomorrow, of your future. Ari, I would exchange words now, follow me.”
“As you please, my lord,” says Ari as Sigurd stands.
“He’s always eager to please,” says Vidar with an ice-cold stare at Ari. No smile. We all understand. A serious insult to Ari’s honor. The skald moves swiftly. Vidar reacts, ready to engage. Last time this happened, I stepped back. This time, I step forward. My palms face them.
“There will be no violence in the jarl’s hall,” I shout in my deepest voice. “End of story.”
I used the same words as Sigurd did before our departure. On purpose. A smug grin grows on Ari’s face.
“Vidar saved by a woman,” he says. “How fitting.”
“You would know,” replies Vidar as he pushes past my hand. I slap him firmly on his wall of a chest, halting his advance.
“Take it outside,” I growl at him.
“Maybe I will,” says Vidar, eyes locked on Ari.
Jarl Sigurd’s face is red. He is fuming. No surprise considering his own son creates such disorder in the hall. Luckily, only close family and allies are present, not the entire valley. He would have to punish the two men publicly with more witnesses.
“Final chance, you two,” he says. “Take it outside, like Kilda says.”
The jarl uses my words. A victory. I push both men in the chest, attempting to force them farther apart. But neither budge. Both are too strong for me to move. I will find a way to control men. As a Volva, I will dominate those stronger than me.
“Jarl Sigurd,” I say, dropping to my knees before the jarl’s empty throne. The men stand down, heeding Sigurd’s threat.
“What now?” says Sigurd, still annoyed.
“I…” The words choke my throat. What an insolent wench I am. “I humbly ask to be… to be freed from bondage.”
I look up at Sigurd, who has a look of surprise on his scarlet face.
“Freed from bondage?” laughs Thyra.
“Let her speak,” says Sigurd, silencing his daughter with a raised hand.
“A Volva cannot fully harness her powers, cannot free her mind, if she is not free in body.”
“Ridiculous,” shouts Thyra. “So now every slave claiming to be touched by Freya or Odin or Loki is to be freed?”
“It was Ylvin who taught me this,” I say, keeping my eyes on Sigurd. “A seer’s spirit cannot fly if her body is chained.”
“I will consid—” begins Sigurd.
“She’s a notorious liar!” interrupts Thyra. “A known thief! She should be happy she still has her hands and nose!”
“Silence!” shouts the jarl. “I will consider it. In the meantime, Kilda, I know that a Volva needs her own space. I have had a house prepared for you.”
A house… for me? I can’t believe my ears. A place to practice. A place to grow.
A place of my own.
