“I suppose if no one goes anywhere during the winter, Oddny’s sister won’t, either,” she said. “You said before that you’re wintering in Hordaland?”
“At my father’s estate at Alreksstadir, yes.”
“Could we leave straight from there in the spring?”
He considered this. “What happened this summer means my brothers’ plotting has escalated. I’d thought to forgo raiding in favor of making the royal progress, to reaffirm the loyalty of the jarls and hersar who’ve sworn to me . . .”
“Well, you could do that as well,” Gunnhild said. “After Birka. How long would it take to get there from Alreksstadir?”
Another pause, this one more contemplative than troubled. “Just over a week, but that’s with perfect weather and a fair wind, and provided we don’t stop.”
“That sounds much better than two moons,” Gunnhild admitted. “Fine. Then that’s my second term: Take me and Oddny to Birka in the spring, as soon as it’s possible to sail.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” She plucked the knife from its sheath at her belt and grinned when he took a full step back. “Let’s swear on it.”
His revulsion was palpable. “I’m not taking an oath with you. My word should be good enough. And besides, have you ever been cut across the palm? It’s terribly inconvenient.”
Gunnhild winced as she made a shallow slice across her left palm, bisecting the scar where she’d stabbed herself in Finnmark. “What’s wrong? Scared of a little blood?”
Eirik didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead he said, “Don’t you usually shake with your right?”
“I already did a blood oath on that hand with Oddny and Signy.”
A brief look of recognition crossed his face. “Signy being her kidnapped sister, I assume?”
“Yes. We swore ourselves to each other as children.”
“I see.” Eirik put the lantern down on the grass between them, took out his own knife, and cut his hand as well. He held it out, but stopped just short of hers, looking uncertain. “I have one more term.”
“I’m listening.”
“Will this bindrune of yours work against your own powers should you choose to inflict them upon me or any of my men?”
Of course he’d fear such a thing after what happened with his father and Snaefrid, though Gunnhild still didn’t believe that story the way the Norse told it. She began, “No, but I wouldn’t do that—”
“Then swear it,” he said flatly.
“Fine. I swear to never influence you with my witchcraft.” Even if I did have Thorbjorg’s skill, there are other ways. “Listen—there’s nothing more important to me than rescuing Signy. Don’t you think that if I could simply cast a spell and control your mind to make you take me to her, I would’ve already done it?”
Eirik’s lips thinned but he didn’t argue.
“Now, can we get this over with?” She reached for his hand, but he pulled it away.
“To reiterate,” he said, “you’re not just agreeing to marry me. You’re agreeing to make my enemies your enemies and my fate your fate. You’re agreeing to use your power to protect me and my men, and to never sway me with your magic. In exchange, you will be the queen. I’ll take no other wives but you and sire no other children but yours—”
He made a face, clearly feeling just as sick as she was at the thought of what creating said children would entail. This was a small comfort; at least they were still on familiar ground. He hadn’t suddenly decided he was in love with her. That would be even more disturbing than his proposing marriage in the first place.
“—and I’ll also take you and your friend Oddny to Birka come spring.”
“I agree to those terms.”
“As do I. Wonderful,” Eirik said with deep sarcasm. “Have I missed anything?”
“I don’t think so,” Gunnhild said cheerfully.
“Good.”
“Fine.”
They shook on the oath only as long as was proper before ripping their hands apart, and Gunnhild looked down at her palm, disquieted. She felt slightly singed, like the time she’d caught the end of her braid in the hearth fire when she was in trance and had awoken to Heid throwing a bucket of water on her. But when she glanced up, the coldness in Eirik’s eyes likewise doused whatever feeling his touch had stirred in her.
“There,” she said evenly. “Our fates are bound now. Exactly as you wished.”
Eirik flexed the fingers of his bleeding hand while he bent to pick up the lantern with the other. “It’s too late in the evening for me to speak with your father. I’ll do so tomorrow before supper. I’d prefer you keep this between us until then.”
“Do as you will,” she said, looking past him toward the boathouse, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach. “But there’s someone who deserves to hear this from me first.”
15
AFTER LEAVING GUNNHILD, ODDNY was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t see Halldor exiting the cookhouse as she entered, and when she threw the door open she barreled straight into him.
He let out a yelp of surprise at their collision and a small object flew from his hand, but he managed to step back and right himself. Oddny, however, caught the toe of her shoe on the door’s raised threshold and fell forward, hands out to break her fall—but Halldor grabbed her arm and tugged her back to standing. She hadn’t had a chance to brace for impact; it took her a moment to realize that both her feet were firmly planted on the ground.
“Oh dear,” Ulfrun said mildly from where she sat by the hearth with Vigdis, who glanced up from the wool sock she was mending and raised her eyebrows. Oddny flushed and took a deep breath to calm her racing heart.
“You can let go of me now,” she said through her teeth, and Halldor—seeming surprised to find his hand still around her elbow—obeyed. Then, feeling a bit abashed, Oddny added, “Thank you. I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”
“I was just coming to look for you.” Halldor’s eyes searched the packed-dirt floor. “Where did—？ Oh. Thanks.”
Ulfrun had gotten up and laboriously bent to pick up what he’d dropped—an apple—from where it had rolled under a table, and she handed it back to him. Halldor dusted it off on his sleeve, raised it to his open mouth, then paused and offered it to Oddny. She shook her head, and he shrugged and took a bite.
“Why were you going to look for me?” she asked.
“I wanted to know if I should expect to wake up in the middle of the night to find Gunnhild standing over me with a knife,” Halldor replied through a mouthful of apple. When Oddny gave him a blank look, he swallowed and clarified, “The ritual? The one that was supposedly going to tell her whether or not I was a lying sack of dog shit?”
“Yes, what did she say, lamb?” Ulfrun asked Oddny. “Did she tell you what happened?”
“Not so much.” Oddny didn’t have the energy to convey to them what Gunnhild had only half explained to her, for she wouldn’t be able to answer any questions they had. And what’s more, she didn’t want to mention Gunnhild’s powers’ being hindered with Halldor standing right there, for fear this information would get back to Eirik and damage Gunnhild’s credibility with the hird. “But we appreciate your help. Thank you.”