“Oddny. Do you understand how much natural talent it takes to perform something like that with no training? Stay with me,” Gunnhild said, setting her cup aside and taking Oddny’s hands. “I’ll teach you everything I know, and we’ll learn the rest together. We’ll find a way to protect Halldor. We’ll work this out.”
Oddny looked into her eyes and considered this. But in her heart, she knew her answer.
“I don’t want to be a sorceress, Gunna. I did what I did out of sheer desperation, and I have no wish to do it again. And no matter how things stand with our husbands, you’re my dearest friend. I’ll always love you. But I don’t know if I can completely trust you anymore, and you have reason to worry the same about me.”
Gunnhild winced. “I understand. Listen—you were right when you said that saving Signy wasn’t the only reason I agreed to marry Eirik. I did want to prove my mother wrong. To be important. I didn’t expect to fall in love with him—but it happened, and I can’t change that any more than you can change your feelings for Halldor.”
“Still—I was too harsh on you in Vestfold,” Oddny said. “In my heart I knew I’d gone too far, but it was only after I learned that you’d sent your brothers to rescue Signy that I could admit that to myself.”
Gunnhild slid her hands away and rested both on her knees, and looked down at the scars on her open palms.
“You were right, though. It’s just like Heid’s prophecy—‘One of you clouds the futures of the others. For better or worse, your fates are intertwined.’ I always knew it was me. I’m sorry.”
Oddny said nothing.
Across the hall, Signy sat talking with Runfrid and Arinbjorn, smiling in a way Oddny hadn’t seen since they’d reunited. Though Signy had stayed in the tent the previous night, she hadn’t slept well, and had woken Oddny at dawn to say she was going to meet Runfrid at the armory. After breakfast, as Oddny had walked to the main hall to care for her patients, she’d seen Signy leaning on the fence of the practice field.
Even from a distance, Oddny had noticed the hunger in her sister’s eyes as she and Runfrid watched Arinbjorn and Svein spar with spears, Signy’s hand gripping the hilt of her bone-handled knife. As Oddny had come up behind them, she’d heard Runfrid say, “You have to start with something smaller than a sword. I’d be surprised if you could even lift the one you gave to Halldor.”
“How much smaller?” Signy had asked warily. “It has to be big enough to kill a man.”
Runfrid had turned, and Oddny had seen her grin in profile. “You know, if you stick around, we could have a lot of fun together, Signy Ketilsdottir.”
Oddny had stopped, stiffened, then continued on, leaving the two women standing by the fence. Signy had joined her in the longhouse later and they’d sat together in silence as Oddny did her work, but even then, Oddny had been able to tell that her sister’s mind was elsewhere.
Gunnhild had followed her gaze, and her voice snapped Oddny out of her reverie: “It was our love for her that kept us bound—but now she’s safe, and you and I are parting. What does that mean for Signy?”
Oddny felt a twinge of fear. Before today it hadn’t occurred to her that her sister might choose to stay with Gunnhild instead of coming with her, wherever she was headed next. She’d thought it was a given that they’d remain together, but now she wasn’t entirely sure.
“I suppose that’s up to her,” Oddny said.
* * *
—
THE SUN HAD BARELY risen the next morning when Oddny and Halldor arrived at the docks, but a small crowd awaited them.
Gunnhild had gifted Oddny the knarr her brothers had taken to find Signy, a small vessel with a yellow sail. It needed a minimum of six to crew it, and along with the captain and steersman, a few of the freed thralls had volunteered to accompany them despite not knowing where they were going—some in hopes of seeing home again one day, others eager to leave Norway as soon as possible. Oddny couldn’t blame them.
Gunnhild, Signy, and Ulla stood near the dock. Eirik, Arinbjorn, and Runfrid were saying their farewells to Svein, who stood there with his lyre slung over his shoulder and his ship box under his arm.
“You’re coming with us?” Oddny asked Svein in surprise when he came over to them.
“I mean to, if you’ll have me,” the skald replied. “Eirik and I have an understanding, but that doesn’t mean I wish to rejoin his hird. I don’t know where I’m going next any more than you two do, but it makes sense for us to stick together, yes?”
“We’re going to Birka to pick up Steinvor,” Oddny said. “But after that, who knows?”
Halldor said, “But we’d be honored to have you,” and Svein boarded the ship.
Eirik came over to Halldor next, and the two men sized each other up just as they had on the practice field after their first match. Oddny had the distinct impression that they were going to talk about more than just the compensation Gunnhild had mentioned during the feast the night before, so she gave her husband’s hand a squeeze and made to move away—but not before meeting Eirik’s eyes for the briefest of moments and giving him a solemn nod, which he returned before turning back to Halldor.
Leaving them to their discussion, Oddny said farewell to Arinbjorn—who gave her a quick hug and a conspiratorial smile—and then moved to where Signy, Gunnhild, and Ulla stood, now joined by Runfrid.
“Are you ready to go?” Oddny asked Signy, fearing the answer.
Signy’s throat worked, but no words came out. She reached up to adjust the pink silk scarf covering her hair. “I—I love you both so much. I never want to be parted from you again. But I . . .” She looked down at her hands, curled them into fists. “How am I supposed to choose between you after what you’ve done for me?”
“It’s your decision,” Oddny said, more calmly than she felt.
Signy raised her head to meet her sister’s eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Oddny. Of how far you’ve come. Of everything you’ve done. Look at you. What would Mother say if she could see you now?”
It hadn’t been intended as a barb, and Oddny knew it, but it still smarted.
“I think she’d be glad we’re both alive,” Oddny said. “And I don’t think she’d be disappointed. You were right—everything you said that day. I did think I was special because I was trying to be everything Mother told us a woman should be. And I did feel threatened by you, because if you succeeded in breaking the mold, it would mean that Mother was wrong and I wasn’t special at all. It took all of this happening for me to see the truth of things.”
“And what truth is that?” Signy asked, searching her face, taking her hand.
Oddny thought, but it wasn’t until she looked at Gunnhild that the words finally came to her: Gunnhild, who had appeared at Oddny’s darkest time and offered her support, who had kept alive her hope that Signy would one day be found. Gunnhild, who had done her best to bring Signy home even after she and Oddny had gone their separate ways. Gunnhild, who was as determined to make her enemies pay as she was to keep her loved ones safe.