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A Fate Inked in Blood (Saga of the Unfated, #1)(108)

Author:Danielle L. Jensen

But the moment was broken, allowing reason to return. I scrubbed the tears from my face, then met his gaze, my voice finally steady. “If we do this once, it will open a door. And it will happen again and again until we inevitably get caught. Because we will get caught. Already Bodil is suspicious.”

Bjorn’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

“When Snorri finds out, he’ll hurt my family, possibly murder one of them. He’ll execute or banish you.” I lifted my chin. “But I’m too irreplaceable to kill, which means I’ll have to live with the guilt that those I care about most are dead because I couldn’t curb my lust.”

If only it was just lust.

Lust I could control, lust I could satiate in other ways, but the feelings growing in my heart? Those sought only one release and they spun wildly out of control.

“Freya…” He caught hold of my arms, lips parting as though he would argue, but found himself without an argument.

“Stay away from me, Bjorn,” I whispered. “Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me, because you now belong to the ranks of people whose lives depend on my good behavior. And if I fall to temptation, it will be the doom of us all.”

Then, because I knew if I remained any longer that I’d crack, I turned on my heel and splashed my way down the stream to the fjord.

* * *

“There’s a spy in our midst.”

My voice was more toneless than I intended, but it felt like if I allowed any emotion loose they’d all explode out of me.

Bodil crossed her arms, clearly angry that I’d wandered, but I ignored her and added, “The specter appeared to me again and brought me to the forest to show me where a message had been left using runic sorcery.” I explained everything that had happened, only leaving out Bjorn’s appearance.

Snorri had looked ready to strangle me when I appeared, but now his anger vanished. “Did it speak to you?”

“It only told me to look,” I said, the echo of the specter’s strained voice filling my head.

“Where is Steinunn?” Snorri demanded, and when the skald approached, he caught her sleeve and hauled her forward. “This could be another trial. You need to hear what Freya has to say.”

The skald pulled free of his grip, then wrapped her cloak more tightly around her body before asking, “What did you see?”

I had to be careful, for everything I said to Steinunn could be revealed in one of her songs, and I had not forgotten Bjorn’s belief that she was spying on Snorri’s behalf. “The specter. I saw it up close. It was burned nearly down to the bone and speaking seems to cause it pain. Only its eyes were whole. They were”—human—“green. The color of leaves.”

A shudder ran through Snorri, and Steinunn stepped back in alarm as he dropped into a crouch, his head in his hands. “It’s her.”

“Who?” I demanded even as Ylva said, “You don’t know that.”

“There are too many coincidences to be denied.” Snorri looked up at Ylva, ignoring my question. “She foretold Freya’s coming, and the specter did not appear until Freya’s name was born in fire. She appears only to Freya.” His throat convulsed as he swallowed. “She burned alive, Ylva. Was only recognizable from the jewelry on her bones.”

Realization slapped me in the face even as boots splashed in the mud and Bjorn approached the group, his arms crossed and eyes shadowed. “I see Freya decided to return.”

No one spoke. No one even seemed to breathe.

Snorri slowly straightened. “The specter appeared to Freya and led her to proof we have a spy in our midst. I…I believe the specter is your mother.”

Bjorn didn’t so much as blink, only lifted a shoulder and said, “It seems she is loyal to you even beyond the grave, Father.”

“Yes.” Snorri looked away. “Or else tied to Freya’s fate.”

Though his face was expressionless, tension simmered in Bjorn’s green eyes and my chest tightened in sympathy. If the specter was indeed his mother, it meant that all these long years she’d lingered between worlds, suffering the agony of her death. If there was a way to help her, I didn’t know it, which meant she might languish until the end of days. Perhaps even beyond.

“The message was left with sorcery,” I blurted out to draw attention away from Bjorn while he came to terms with the revelation. “The spy is someone who knows runic magic. A woman.”