“Recognizing a losing battle is not cowardice,” Bjorn spat back, his hands balling into fists. “I think Odin would rather seat men at his table who know how to pick their battles so they might have victory than those who race toward defeat!”
“It was the Allfather himself who saw Freya’s greatness!” Snorri screamed. I flinched at his vehemence, his fanaticism, but Bjorn stood his ground as his father shouted, “It was Odin who told your own mother what Freya would allow me to achieve, and yet you fight the fate he saw for her at every turn. You think that I haven’t noticed? You think it doesn’t weigh upon my mind that my own son allows fear to guide his steps, and not ambition?”
“Fear has nothing to do with it,” Bjorn shouted back, and I tensed at the fury in his eyes. At the hatred that boiled beneath it, for I’d never seen that in him before. “It’s that I don’t believe you control Freya’s fate!”
Color drained from Snorri’s face, then in a rapid motion he drew his sword and pressed the tip to Bjorn’s throat. I yanked out my own weapon, but then froze as a trickle of blood ran down Bjorn’s skin, knowing that any action on my part might see him killed.
“Why?” Snorri demanded between his teeth. “Because you think it should be you who controls her fate?” Before Bjorn could answer, he added, “You think I’m blind? You think that I don’t know lust when I see it? I tolerated you coveting my wife because I believed you loyal. But now I see that you care more about ensuring my wife remains available for satisfying your lusts than you do about her achieving her destiny.”
My hands turned to ice, and from the corner of my eye I saw Ylva clench her teeth and shake her head, this clearly no revelation to her. We’d fooled no one, and if we survived this battle, it would be to face the consequences of our actions.
Bjorn didn’t answer, as he was already moving. In a flash, he’d slammed his father’s blade away from his throat, his axe flaring to life as he drove Snorri backward across the room. “Know that you are alive only because I swore an oath not to satisfy my own desires,” he snarled. “But do not think that the gods will allow you to go unpunished, and there are fates far worse than death for men like you.”
“Empty threats.” Snorri spat on the ground. “Either kill me now or get out of my sight, because I’ll not name a coward my son.”
My heart fractured, because I’d done this. I’d destroyed Bjorn’s life, torn him away from his family, and ruined his reputation all because I’d wanted what couldn’t be mine. Kill Snorri and you can have whatever you want, the dark voice whispered inside my head and my hand tightened on my sword hilt.
I ground my teeth, trying to force myself to draw the blade, to do what Bjorn would not, or could not, but my hand wouldn’t obey.
Snorri laughed. “You swore your own oaths, Freya, so it seems both my fate and life are safe from you.”
Thunder boomed, closer this time, and Ylva scrubbed away tears even as she snapped, “Enough. There is no time for this. We must prepare to fight Harald or flee while we can.”
“I’ll not fight for you.” The words came out without thought. “I’m leaving, so that there will be no reason for there to be a battle at all. Let you all dedicate yourselves to hunting me down, but know that I will not fight for you, or for anyone else.” I looked to Bjorn, and he nodded, reaching for my arm. “We’re leaving.”
Snorri said nothing, only watched as we left the room.
“We’re going to have to ride hard,” Bjorn said once we were outside. “We need to get out of Skaland, out of the dominion of our gods to a place where they hold no power.”
I started to nod, then drew up short at the sight of my brother on his knees, Ragnar behind him with a knife to his throat.
“Freya!” Geir’s eyes widened at the sight of me. “They took her. When you came back, they took Ingrid. I don’t know where she is!”
Slowly, I turned around to find Snorri standing with his arms crossed. “The stakes are the same as they’ve always been, Freya. By all means, walk out that gate with your lover, but the ghosts of your family will haunt you all the rest of your life.”
A shudder ran through me. “I hate you! How the gods foresee you as king of Skaland is a mystery to me, because you are a monster to whom no one will willingly bend the knee!”
He snorted. “This is Skaland, girl. What does willingness matter? Our people rule with steel and fear, and those who swear oaths do so because they know that same strength will be turned upon their enemies. That the monsters will keep them safe. For all your power, Freya, you are little more than a girl-child ruled by impulse and emotion. The gods chose me because you need to be controlled. To be wielded like a weapon, not left to sow chaos. But it seems you need more proof of that before you’ll see reason.”