She eagerly poured the honey wine and then set the pitcher down on the table, not offering to serve anyone else.
I gestured to the open seat beside me. “Sit with me.”
I didn’t know if she had planned to or not, but I wanted to make sure she did. She wasn’t leaving my side until this was over with.
Astrid smiled and took the seat before grabbing the drinking horn on her hip to fill up. I was tempted to take that away from her and offer to share mine, but I didn’t have the right yet to share a drinking horn with her.
She didn’t pick up the pitcher again, though. Instead, Astrid reached for a different one on the table.
I gestured to the pitcher she’d brought. “This one is closer.”
She vehemently shook her head. “No, that one is just for you.”
It was then I realized just how ornate the pitcher for me was. I wasn’t having it. She would share with me. I lifted the pitcher and tried to offer her a pour.
Astrid gasped and pulled her horn away. “I can’t.”
I snatched her wrist and gently pulled her back, pouring the mead. “I will share with you.”
I didn’t care what these mortals around me thought. And I knew they were watching. Even the jarl seemed to have an interest in our interactions from where he sat in the hall. Bjørn was with him, Randi sitting on his lap and sharing a drinking horn with him.
A raucous cheer erupted, and it was clear a winner of the flyting had been declared.
“Astrid, where is your brother?” her father called out. “I want to see him wipe the smirk off Canute’s face with his poetry.”
Astrid, mid-sip of her mead, shrugged at her father. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. Randi whispered something in his ear and he laughed.
I bent closer to Astrid and kept my voice low. “Where is he?”
“He and Frida snuck off for their own celebration of his return from the battle.”
I grunted. I could completely understand their desire to do so.
“It’s just a more valid excuse for them if anyone finds out. They’re always sneaking off to make love. Mother and I are convinced she’ll be pregnant before they’re married at this rate. I’m betting by the harvest. She thinks within the next month.”
This time I laughed, throwing my head back in the process. Astrid drank some more, pleased with herself.
“I will have to let Freyja and Freyr know of your bet. They might be interested in playing along with a blessing or two toward one of your wagers.”
Astrid laughed. I liked the sound, like a joyous songbird. But the way her face lit up, and her eyes squinted, it was adorable. And the pink in her cheeks, influenced by all the alcohol, only added to her allure.
I raised my drinking horn and offered a battle tale of my own—one of Fenrir and me, exaggerated for the entertainment, but I was in a much better mood to integrate in these festivities with Astrid here.
Chapter Four
Astrid
My mother checked another jar, shook her head, and set it back on the shelf. I made a mental note to look for that herb as well.
We were running low after treating all our warriors yesterday. We were going out fishing soon, so it would be smart to look for replacement herbs while we were out. With so many raids from rival kings, our king and jarl had agreed that this summer we wouldn’t send our men out on as many raids. It was better to weaken our enemies this way, while keeping us strong.
Or, that’s what I’d overheard Mother and Father talking about. While women weren’t usually involved in politics, because of my mother’s status as a völva, and our family’s favor with the jarl, Jarl Rune made exceptions with her. When I was farther along in my training, I suspect this responsibility would be extended to me.
Father finished sanding his current project, an intricately carved table leg, and inspected his creation. Leif looked up from his own project to watch the master scrutinize for any imperfections. When Father was satisfied, he quietly left his spot and pressed a finger to his lips when he spotted Leif and me watching him.
Father snuck up behind Mother, who didn’t appear to notice that he’d moved from his spot, and reached around her, messing with the shelves. Mother let out a scoffing laugh and slapped his hand away playfully. He grinned and continued until the two were laughing in each other’s arms. Leif and I joined in. Something twinged in my chest, but I ignored it.
Our laughter died when someone rapped on the door. I was closest to the door, so I opened it to greet our visitors. I smiled at the man on the other side. “Jarl Rune.”
