“Now, Eirik,” said a voice as two men approached the table, “who are you to tell your wife that she can’t drink at her wedding feast?”
“I didn’t tell her she can’t drink, just that she should stop,” Eirik said with forced nonchalance as he stood and clasped forearms with the tall black-haired man who stepped forward first. Neither looked happy about having to touch the other in anything resembling a friendly way. It was very clear to Gunnhild that they were putting on a show for the rest of the guests. Keeping the peace, as it were. From his pale blue eyes she knew on sight that this was one of Eirik’s brothers. The man with him was Olaf, whose acquaintance she had already made.
Gunnhild wanted to snap that she was right here, but she forced herself to hold her tongue when she realized that this man was Halfdan Haraldsson, Eirik’s oldest brother. He must have been here yesterday, since Katla was present for the sacrifice, but he hadn’t announced himself; Gunnhild assumed he was waiting to make a scene. It would’ve been an insult to the disir to do it the night before, but the wedding was a different story.
“You nearly missed the disablot yesterday,” Eirik said, dropping his hands to his sides and forcing a smile.
“The seeress in my employ sustained an injury and was too weak to sail,” said Halfdan. “That’s why we were a few days behind.”
Gunnhild looked past him to where Katla was staring daggers at her, and then back to the men in front of them. She didn’t regret what she’d done—only that she hadn’t finished the job.
“How unfortunate,” Eirik said rigidly.
Out of the corner of her eye, Gunnhild saw King Harald sit forward on his bench, watching the exchange through narrowed eyes.
“Father’s told us of your marriage terms,” said Halfdan, smirking. “Just one wife, eh, brother? Don’t tell me she has you under some spell.”
It had been a joke—or so she’d thought—but when Halfdan’s eyes cut to her, Gunnhild saw the malice in them. Her hand tightened on her cup.
Eirik scoffed. “You think me so empty-headed as to fall for such trickery?”
Both men’s expressions said yes, but it was Olaf who spoke. He put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Is that a jab at Father’s previous bewitchment? Such disrespect coming from his chosen successor.”
Eirik’s throat worked but he seemed unable to speak, and he looked angrier for it.
Before he could dig himself a deeper hole, something shifted in Gunnhild, as if a cold snap had blown through her mind and scattered the mist that had settled upon her from the wine. She said, loudly enough for the people around her to quiet, loudly enough for King Harald to hear: “If you’re referring to Snaefrid—if she was in fact a witch, she must have been powerful indeed to have ensorcelled such a man as King Harald, and I’m flattered that you think me powerful enough to have done the same to such a man as my husband. You seek to insult King Eirik, yet by accusing me, you’ve paid us both a compliment. Perhaps I should thank you.”
Her heart pounded as she felt many of the eyes in the hall turn to her, including Eirik’s. But she kept her head high.
“Ah, but you are a sorceress, aren’t you?” Halfdan jeered. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard what happened to our brother Rognvald. I’d heard you were wise, but it seems foolish to me to throw in your lot with Eirik after what he’s done.”
“Especially since you’re the only one of your kind who would,” Olaf said. “Though I daresay, after seeing you last night, it seems to me your talents are wasted on serving him.”
“I do not serve him,” Gunnhild said.
“Nor should you,” Halfdan said placatingly, making Gunnhild think he was perhaps the wiser of the two brothers. “It’s not too late to call for a divorce, you know.” He gave a sideways nod at Eirik. “Surely you know by now that no lantern is burning in the loft. He’s no more than our father’s attack dog. If you wish to be a queen, there are worthier kings in this country to marry.”
Gunnhild rose to her feet.
Your enemies are my enemies.
She wouldn’t need magic to unsheathe her claws, not this time. These enemies were not witches—they were only men.
“I suppose you’re just taunting us because I’ve given you another reason to be jealous of Eirik. A marriage to a woman such as I is so beyond you two that I don’t know if you deserve my ire or my pity for trying to spoil my wedding feast. I feel bad for your wives, if you have any at all.”
By the end of her outburst, the hall had fallen dead silent. Even the skald had paused midpoem.
“Bitch,” Olaf said after a beat.
Gunnhild threw her hands in the air and said to the ceiling, “Is there a single Haraldsson in this room capable of conjuring a decent retort? By the gods, you lot have all the imagination of a dead codfish. Am I to suffer this tediousness all the years of our marriage?”
This last part was directed to Eirik, who glared at her. Off to the side, Queen Gyda let out an extremely unqueenlike snort and covered her mouth. On King Harald’s other side, Thora was smiling broadly, making no show of hiding her amusement.
“You’ll pay for these insults,” Halfdan growled.
Gunnhild made a face. “Oh, how boring. Thank you for proving my point. And funny that you should speak of disrespect toward your father when you’re the ones who continue to disregard his express wishes. He’s named Eirik his successor time and time again, has he not? And here you stand, right in front of the king, mocking his choice.”
She looked over to King Harald and was relieved to see that, beneath his braided silver beard, he was giving her the smallest of smiles.
“Queen Gunnhild speaks truly,” he said, standing, and the words “Queen Gunnhild” coming from him meant everything.
“Father—，” Olaf began.
“She—，” said Halfdan.
“You’ve lost this round, boys,” said King Harald affably, holding up a hand to silence them. “You came to antagonize your brother, and I can’t say it’s not deserved, considering the baseless claims he’s made against you—”
Eirik opened his mouth to argue against the baselessness of said claims, but Gunnhild kicked his foot under the table and his mouth snapped shut.
“—but it seems,” King Harald continued, “you’ve only given his new wife a chance to prove her wit.”
“It would’ve been a good plan had she been a lesser woman,” added Queen Gyda, not without a hint of bitterness, as though the words tasted foul on her tongue. “But now it’s time to take your seats.”
Gunnhild couldn’t believe it. They’re taking my side? Impossible. But by the whispers around her, it was clear that it was the crowd she’d won over, and King Harald and Queen Gyda knew it. To side with Halfdan and Olaf against Eirik now would have made them look foolish.
Halfdan was shaking with rage. “But, Father—”
“Enjoy your drink. Find a woman,” said the king. He waved a hand as he made to sit down again. “Set aside your grudges, if only for tonight, and let Eirik and his bride celebrate.”