SWNOVELS A Fate Inked in Blood: Chapter 8
The room was larger than the whole of my childhood home. The walls were decorated with hangings and the floors with furs, and a hearth glowed with a banked fire to ward away the chill. But it was the bed, large enough to fit an entire family, that immediately drew my eyes.
You’re no maid, I chided myself. It isn’t going to hurt.
Words that meant little, for it was not the fear of pain that made my skin crawl, but revulsion at having to sleep with a man for whom I held no affection. No desire. All while his wife looked on.
Born-in-Fire.
“Disrobe.”
Clenching my teeth, I started to unfasten my dress, but froze as Ylva blurted out, “I can’t do this.”
Turning, I found the lady of Halsar doubled over, hands pressed to her face. “I thought I was strong enough to see this through,” she whispered. “But to have you bed another woman? It’s too much to endure again. It will break me.”
Snorri’s expression softened and he knelt before his wife. “My love, you know you possess my heart. This”—he gave a backward gesture to me—“is a political arrangement. My heart and body care nothing for this woman, but the gods wish for her to be under my control, so it must be done.”
Ylva burst into tears, and guilt bit at my insides. All this time, I’d thought her nothing more than a bitch bent on making my life miserable because she enjoyed it. Not once had I considered how it must feel to watch your beloved husband take another wife.
Snorri pulled her into his arms. “There is no choice, Ylva. You know this. Unless the marriage is consummated, it will not be legitimate. Our enemies will learn of this and fight between one another to steal her away, just as in the vision Hlin granted. Freya will be destroyed and Skaland will remain fractured and weak.”
I held my breath, because as much as I did not want to have sex with this man, the agony of being ripped in two was all too vivid. All paths led to pain, but at least the former was one I knew I could endure.
Ylva lifted her head. Though her fair skin was blotchy and her eyes red, her voice was steady as she said, “What if there was another way? One that did not require you to share her bed?”
“No matter what we do, the gods will know this marriage is not legitimate.” Snorri gave a sharp shake of his head. “They will not favor me if I don’t bend to their will.”
“But is this truly their will?” Ylva wiped at her eyes. “The foretelling said nothing of marriage, nothing of consummation, only of control. The gods surely wish for you to wield her like a weapon, not beget a child upon her to leash her heart.”
Sickness washed over me. Had that been their plan? To tie me to them with a child?
“What alternative do you suggest?”
Ylva’s jaw tightened, and she looked to the floor. “We could use the runes.”
Witchcraft. Sorcery. Every instinct told me to run, even as logic whispered that I wouldn’t get far.
“I could bind her to you.” Ylva’s voice grew stronger, likely bolstered by the fact Snorri had yet to dismiss her plan. “By oath.”
I swallowed hard, my eyes skipping back and forth between the pair. No matter what, I was trapped in this situation. The only uncertainty that remained was which tie would bind me: my body or my word. And I knew which I’d prefer. Knew that I’d do anything, swear anything, to keep a child from being caught up in this nightmare. “I’ll swear an oath.”
Their heads swiveled, eyes latching on me with such intensity that it was hard not to cringe. But I had to persevere. “It must be on the condition that Snorri swears never to touch me.”
If he was offended, Snorri didn’t show it, only rubbed his bearded chin and then turned to his wife. “If anyone were to learn of this magic, your life would be in danger, my love. For the only way to break the spell is your death.”
“Then we continue the deceit that I am your wife,” I said. “The gods enjoy cleverness, so they will look upon the deception as a brilliant strategy worthy of a king.”
The moment the words exited my lips, Snorri’s eyes brightened, reference to his promised destiny washing away what uncertainty he had for Ylva’s plan.
Outside the room, the revelers were shouting and laughing, lewd comments floating through the walls, most of them suggestions for Snorri, and tension mounted.
“The people will want proof of consummation to believe it,” he said.
Don’t be a pawn, a voice whispered in my head. Find ways to take control! “Fake it,” I said. “It isn’t as though they expect the evidence of a maid, so Ylva will provide as much proof as I would. None would dare call their jarl a liar.”
Ylva’s eyes flared. Crossing the room, she caught hold of my arms, her fingernails digging deep into my skin as she pushed me against a wall, her mouth close to my ear as she said, “I don’t trust you.”
The feeling was mutual, but I was flush on the tiny bit of power I’d gained.
“The best alliances,” I said softly, “are those in which each party holds something against the other. Let us be the best of allies, Ylva.”
“If you ever betray us,” she whispered, “I won’t just kill you. I’ll make you watch while everyone you care about is carved apart, piece by piece, and when you are reduced to a broken thing, I’ll bury you alive.”
I believed her. Believed this woman would do exactly what she threatened, and for that reason I would not cross her. But that didn’t mean I needed to be cowed by her. Not blinking, I said, “Understood.”
“Cast the spell, Ylva,” Snorri said. “Let us cement the control that will deliver me my destiny.”
I watched in silence as Ylva retrieved a silver plate, setting it on a table. Removing a knife from her belt, she made a shallow cut on Snorri’s palm, allowing the blood to pool in the center of the plate. Then she motioned to me. “Give me your hand.”
“Don’t cut the tattoos,” Snorri warned. Ylva scowled but drew her blade across the back of my arm.
I winced but said nothing as she held the wound over the plate, my blood dripping down to mix with Snorri’s.
With her finger, Ylva swirled the blood together and then used it to paint runes around the edge of the plate. “Freya,” she said. “Repeat after me. I vow to serve no man not of this blood.”
If I said these words, I’d be bound for the rest of my life. Or at least the rest of Ylva’s. But the alternative was so much worse. “I vow to serve no man not of this blood.”
“I vow allegiance to him who is of this blood. I vow to protect, at all cost, him who is of this blood. I vow to speak no word of this bargain except to him who is of this blood.”
I repeated the words.
“Now you, my love.”
Snorri was silent for a long moment, then he said, “Before the eyes of the gods, I vow loyalty of my body and heart to my one true wife.”
Ylva’s eyes jerked up and there was no mistaking the swell of emotion in them. “You honor me.” Then she drew a final rune on the plate and everything, including the pool of blood, flared bright before disappearing into smoke. “It is done.”
I felt no different, and I wasn’t certain if that was a good or a bad thing, for part of me wished to feel the weight of what we’d done.
Ylva moved to retrieve a dark cloak, which she draped over my shoulders before pulling up the hood. “I’ll not have you watching.”
I shrugged, allowing her to push me toward the rear wall. Beneath the rug was a trap door, and as Ylva opened it, night air rushed into the room. “Stay in the hole,” she said. “Do not wander.”
I could easily have turned my back and covered my ears, but offered no argument, only dropped into the opening. Almost immediately, I heard the sounds of kissing, and though I was no prude, I had no desire to hear more.
Removing the pieces of wood concealing the escape tunnel, I climbed outside. It was a dark night, the moon and the stars obscured by heavy clouds that smelled of more snow, and I leaned against the great hall as I tightened my cloak against the chill.
Laughs and shouts echoed through Halsar, and I kept to the shadows as several men staggered into the village, arms clasped around shoulders as they sang. From inside, drummers had struck up and there’d be dancing and merriment until dawn. On any other day, I’d be in the thick of it, laughing and singing and drinking until I was sick. But all I wanted to do now was cling to the cold shadows, my heart devoid of cheer.
Born-in-Fire.
I frowned, reexamining my poor humor. On the surface, it felt as though I’d made many concessions, but was that truly the case? Though we’d only just met, I’d spent my life sworn to Snorri as the jarl of these lands. The only thing that had changed was that now magic bound me to the oaths I’d inherited from my father. There was little point in dwelling, for the deal was done. Better to dedicate my mind to understanding how I was expected to achieve the results the gods foresaw for me.
How better to learn that than from the individual who had seen my future.
Lifting my head, I scanned the darkness. What were the chances that Snorri didn’t keep the individual who’d spoken his precious prophecy close? I hadn’t seen Odin’s mark, which I knew was a raven, on anyone at the feast, but that didn’t mean the seer wasn’t somewhere in the village. And this might be my only chance to speak with them without someone looming over my shoulder.
Praying that Snorri would take his time with Ylva, I stepped away from the hall. I kept my head low as I strode down the narrow path between buildings. Mud squished beneath my shoes, my nose filling with the smell of dung and fish and woodsmoke, the homes quiet, for nearly everyone was at the great hall celebrating. From time to time, I passed men standing next to small fires, ostensibly on watch duty, but none paid me any mind.
The faint breeze sent wooden wind chimes swaying, the soft clicks welcome after the noise in the hall, and I walked past building after building, searching for the symbols that would mark one as a seer’s abode. I found nothing, eventually reaching the docks stretching out into the black fjord. Walking to the end of them, I paused to take several deep breaths.
I’d never spoken to a seer before. They were either in the service of a jarl or too expensive for any but the most desperate and wealthy to consult, and my mother always said knowing the future was a curse because, good or bad, you couldn’t change it.
Except that I could. The one drop of blood Hlin had gifted me gave me the power to change my fate.
Though how I’d know whether I was succeeding in changing it was a mystery to me.
Without a clear picture of the future, every action that I took might be already woven by the Norns.
Thinking about it made my head hurt. All I wanted was to stand on the docks with the cold air filling my lungs until my mind cleared. Except Snorri and Ylva might have already noticed my absence, and I’d probably pushed them far enough tonight.
One more moment, I told myself. A dozen more breaths.
Then my skin prickled.
Cursing myself for wandering off without even a knife, I spun on my heel, my heart leaping into a gallop at the sight of a shadowy figure a few paces behind me. My lips parted, a scream for help rising, and then I recognized the height and breadth. “Bjorn? What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same thing.” His voice was strange and clipped, and unease filled my chest as I grappled for a lie.
“Ylva was upset. Snorri wished time to make things up to her.”
Bjorn gave a soft snort. “Twice in one night. Didn’t think the old bastard had it in him.”
“What are you doing out here?” I repeated the question, mostly because I wasn’t certain whether I should be worried that he caught me wandering alone.
“Wasn’t in the mood to celebrate.”
He took a step forward and I instinctively took a step back, my heel finding the edge of the dock. “Neither am I.” Hesitating, I added, “This wasn’t where I expected to find myself. Nor the path I’d have chosen, but unfated as everyone says that I am, I still find myself trapped.”
Bjorn went still. “You could run.”
Could I? Could I race away into the night and find myself a simple life that didn’t violate the oaths I’d made? Maybe, but my family would pay the price. “I can’t.”
He huffed out a breath, frustration seeming to ripple out from him. “How did I know you’d say that?”
My unease suddenly turned to trepidation, though I wasn’t entirely certain why. “What difference does it make to you?”
“Every difference.” His hands balled into fists, but then he abruptly went still. “Do you hear that?”
I inhaled and exhaled, listening, then a rhythmic sound filled my ears. It came from the water and grew louder with every passing second.
Oars. The sound was oars moving in their locks, blades splashing into the water.
Not a single set, but many.
Bjorn stepped up next to me, both of us peering out at the water. My skin turning to ice as I spotted the shadow of not one vessel, but the shadows of many.
Raiders.