“Was that a blacksmithing joke?” When he only grinned, she said, “No. He owes me ten marks of silver and that’s all the connection I wish to have with him.”
“Ah yes, how silly of me. It’s only about the silver,” Arinbjorn said sagely. “He’s no catch. He’s only devastatingly handsome, an accomplished fighter, a decent smith—and, oh, the next king of Norway is about to make him an official member of the hird.”
“Already? It’s been less than a moon!”
“The shortest probationary period Eirik has ever had for anyone, save for Svein. And myself, of course, but that was only by virtue of my fighting beside him practically since we could walk.”
Oddny hesitated—but when she saw Halldor stand and start moving toward the exit, Arinbjorn said, “If you don’t go now, you may miss your chance,” and suddenly she had risen and her feet were moving of their own accord.
But when she followed him around the corner of the longhouse, she lost sight of him in the darkness and staggered to a halt, shoulders slumping. Perhaps it’s just as well. What would I have said to him anyway?
A voice said from behind her, “Oddny Ketilsdottir. It’s well past time we officially met.”
Oddny whirled to find Thorbjorg standing there. The witch’s expression was perfectly calm, innocent even. It made Oddny sick.
“Don’t come any closer or you’ll regret it,” Oddny said, drawing her knife.
Thorbjorg stood her ground, but her eyes moved to the blade and her smile curved into something just as sharp. “Put that away. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Oddny made no move to do so. “You had my family killed. My sister is gone because of you. Why? Tell me now and I may let you live.”
“Oh, you’ll let me live, will you?” The witch’s laugh was entirely devoid of humor. “Listen, Oddny. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Queen Gunnhild, and I’ll only tell you once: You can walk away from all this.”
“I can’t. You’ve made that impossible.”
“But what if I made it otherwise?” Thorbjorg produced a small coin purse from a pouch at her belt and dangled it between thumb and forefinger. “I didn’t mean for things to turn out the way they did. I’ll admit that much. My plan was rash.”
Oddny scoffed and eyed the coin purse. “Don’t tell me you want to compensate me for my family’s deaths. There’s not enough silver in the Nine Worlds that could—”
“Oh, no. But this is enough to buy your sister’s freedom.”
“Gunnhild can already do that. Try again.”
“And if I put you on a ship right this moment and gave it a swift enough wind that it would take you to Signy’s precise location, and get you both to safety before the worst of winter hits? Can Gunnhild do that, too?”
Oddny nearly dropped her knife—at the confirmation that Signy was indeed alive, and at the fact that Thorbjorg knew where she’d been taken.
“Where is she?” Oddny demanded.
“You’ll be halfway to her by dawn if you agree to my terms.”
“And what terms are those?”
Thorbjorg’s smile flattened to a thin line. “Break your oath with Gunnhild.”
“What?” Oddny whispered. “You want me to—？”
“To do nothing. To leave her. That’s all. The only harm that will come to her, she’ll have brought on herself. I’m not asking you to do anything terrible to her—”
“And breaking my oath isn’t terrible?”
“She’s the reason we even took notice of you and your family,” Thorbjorg spat, growing frustrated. “We searched for her for years, but the old woman’s magic protected her from our sight. So we had no choice but to strike against you instead. If you hadn’t sworn that oath with her when you were children, your mother and brother might yet be alive.”
The words were too horrible to believe. Gunnhild was their real target after all? Oddny’s hand began to tremble on her knife, but she managed to bite out, “It’s not Gunnhild’s fault they’re dead. It’s yours. Why should I listen to a word you say?”
“You hadn’t seen her for twelve winters, Oddny—how can you even be sure she’s the same person as she was before? She’ll show you her true self soon enough, and then you’ll regret refusing my offer for the rest of your life.”
Oddny could only shake her head in silent anguish.
“Forsake her,” Thorbjorg snarled, “and swear a binding oath to me that neither you nor your sister will ever see her again, for as long as you live, and in return my oath will be that your safety and that of your sister will be ensured. That’s the price.” The witch thrust the coin purse out to her. “Will you pay it? For Signy?”
Slowly, Oddny sheathed her knife and looked down at her palms, at the scar from the blood oath.
I’m sorry, Signy. You’ll have to hold on just a little longer.
I can’t forsake one sister for the other.
And then something else occurred to her.
“That’s not all there is to it, is there?” Oddny said. Despite how much she’d had to drink, she suddenly felt more sober than she ever had before. “Why are you so desperate to get Gunnhild alone? She said you’d foreseen something, but she didn’t know what. And you didn’t come after us to draw Gunnhild out—she told me you were surprised to see her on the day of the raid. Which means Signy and I are important somehow, aren’t we? The three of us. Together.” She looked up at Thorbjorg. “Listen—I understand wanting your revenge for Rognvald. I do. And so does Gunnhild. You had her mentor killed, after all. But—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thorbjorg said, but a hint of alarm had crept into her voice, and that was enough to convince Oddny that she was on the right path.
“Oh, but I think I do,” Oddny said. “Your price for my sister’s return is splitting us apart, but why? You said your plan with the raid was rash, which makes me think it was born of fear. And that makes me think that without us, you’ll succeed and Gunnhild will die, but with us—she’ll beat you. Maybe she’ll even kill you.”
Thorbjorg stared at her with something that wasn’t fear, wasn’t horror, wasn’t rage, but was a mix of all three.
Then, in one fluid motion, the witch stuffed the purse back into her pouch and drew her knife: longer than Oddny’s, antler handled, and wicked sharp. “Or maybe I could solve all my problems right here instead.”
“Do it,” Oddny snapped. “When they find my body, King Harald will know there’s treachery afoot, and how long will Olaf vouch for you then? He’ll never admit to anything. Not if he wants to remain king of Vestfold. And even if you escaped King Harald, Gunnhild would hunt you to the ends of the earth. Whatever you saw her do to you in your little prophecy, she’d do ten times worse if you kill me.”
Thorbjorg drew back in disgust. “Do you truly have so much faith in her?”
“I do,” said Oddny firmly.
“So be it,” Thorbjorg said, and the knife flashed as she closed the distance between them. Oddny drew her own knife once more and held her ground—