“I’ll take that silver,” the man said, snapping me from my thoughts, and I handed the coin over before mounting the gelding.
I followed the road that ran parallel to the river at a fast canter, fording the dozens of small streams that fed into it, my eyes on the cliffs in the distance. I could make out the walls of Grindill, the Torne flowing past the fortress to cascade over in a waterfall fifty feet high. Mist exploded from its base, but I drew no closer to it, the road veering south before beginning the steep climb up the hill to the fortress.
The gelding was breathing hard by the time I reached the top of the slope, but I drove him at a gallop toward the gate. The walls were repaired, warriors walking along the tops of them, and I was swiftly noticed.
And recognized.
“It’s Freya!” My name repeated from above as my horse’s hooves clattered across the bridge over the moat of stakes, the gate swinging open to admit me. I rode into the open yard before drawing up my gelding, my eyes skipping over the curious stares of those nearby, hunting for my prey.
“Have you lost your mind, girl?”
Ylva’s voice filled my ears, and my wrath burned wild and hot as I saw her exit the great hall. Flinging myself off my horse, I stalked toward her.
“This was not the plan,” she whispered, holding her skirts out of the mud, her breath coming in rapid pants as though she’d run to intercept me the moment she heard I’d returned. “How am I going to explain why you—”
I swung, my right fist connecting hard enough with her cheek that pain ricocheted up my arm. “You traitorous bitch,” I snarled as she fell into the mud. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”
Ylva crawled backward even as shouts of alarm echoed around us. “I betrayed nothing,” she gasped. “Everyone thinks you are in your rooms!”
“Is that so?” I pulled my sword and pursued her, satisfaction filling me as she recoiled in terror. “Then how is it that Skade knew exactly where to find me?”
Ylva blanched. “What? No…no, Freya, I’ve no notion of how Harald learned this information, but it was not from me. I swear it!”
“Lies,” I hissed. “All this time, it has been you who is conspiring with Harald. To get rid of Bjorn. Now to get rid of me, because you haven’t the stomach for war that you thought you did. Except neither Bjorn nor I are dead, but my mother is! Because of you!”
I lifted my sword. Readying for a down strike that would take her head from her shoulders, only for a wash of heat to warm my face as my blade was struck and wrenched from my grip.
I stumbled, nearly falling, and as I regained my balance it was to see Bjorn astride his exhausted horse just inside the gate. Screaming with wordless fury that he’d deny me my revenge, I snatched up my sword, anger and grief filling me, to find the blade warped from the impact of his axe on the metal. Ruined, but it would serve well enough.
Ylva screamed, but before I could drive the blade into her heart, someone slammed into my side. I toppled into the mud, more hands than I could count pinning me down, shouts filling my ears.
“What is going on?” Snorri roared, and I choked around a mouthful of mud and horse shit, “She’s a traitor!”
Hands jerked me upright and I coughed and spat, trying to clear away the foulness.
“You told me Freya was in her rooms seeking guidance from the gods.” Snorri leveled a finger at Ylva. “Yet she just came through the gate on horseback.”
“She needed to see her mother.” Ylva climbed to her feet, aided by Ragnar. “Wanted to learn what she could about Hlin so—”
“She told Harald where we were,” I screamed. “And my mother is dead because of it!”
“I did no such thing!”
All I could see was red, because even now she denied it. “Then who, Ylva? We know there is a traitor in our midst. One who was in Fjalltindr. One who betrayed Snorri’s plans in Halsar. One who betrayed that I was going to see my mother. You were the only one present all three times, the only one with the magic, the only one with the knowledge!”
“It was not me!” Ylva shrieked, only Ragnar’s grip on her keeping the woman from attacking me. “Bodil vouched for the truth of my words in Halsar!”
“Then she lied!”
“Enough!” Snorri stepped between us. “I will hear you two in private, not listen to you screech like two fishwives in a market!”
“That’s because she is a fishwife!”
I tried to get loose of the men holding me, and when I couldn’t, I spat at her.