“She grabbed my axe in a fit of murderous rage.” Bjorn leaned against the wall, then winked at me. “I would not anger her if I were you. Or if you do, don’t turn your back on her.”
“And yet you’ll probably not take your own advice.” Liv made a soft sound, then shook her head and my heart sank even as my fear bloomed bright. She asked, “What’s your name?”
“Never mind her name, will she keep the hand?” Ylva pushed around Bjorn to bend over the bed, making a face at my wound. “She is the shield maiden we’ve been searching for. She will make Snorri king of Skaland, but only if she isn’t rendered useless by her own foolish choices.”
Liv stiffened, glancing to Bjorn for confirmation, but I barely noticed the exchange. Useless. My eyes burned and I blinked rapidly, every dream I’d ever had going up in smoke. “My name is Freya, Erik’s daughter.”
“Pray to Hlin, Freya. For it is in the hands of the gods as to whether you will recover.” Liv looked to Ylva. “Make an offering to Eir. A goat should suffice, but you must do it yourself.”
Ylva’s lip curled, but she said nothing, only nodded and left, shouting at the servants beyond.
“That should keep her busy for a time.” Liv dug into her satchel, extracting a small jar of honey as well as a handful of what looked like moss, setting them on a table. “But first let us look to your pain.”
She put a yellow substance into a clay pot, then held a candle to it until it ignited. Leaning toward my face, she met my eyes. “Breathe deep,” she said, then blew the smoke toward me. I dutifully inhaled, then choked and coughed, sucking in more smoke as I did. Almost instantly, my muscles ceased their shivering and I slumped back against the furs.
“Better?” Liv asked.
I could still feel the burns, but they no longer made me want to scream. “Yes,” I murmured, sinking into a strange sense of euphoria. As though I were in my body…but not. “Is it your magic that I am feeling?” I knew little of the magic of the children of Eir, for they were rare and usually served jarls.
“No.” Liv smiled. “Just a flower with many uses.”
“Don’t get used to it, Freya Charhand. That flower has been the ruin of many,” Bjorn said, and my gaze drifted to his face, uncaring that I was unabashedly staring at him.
“It’s unnatural for someone to have such a beautiful face.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “I cannot tell if that was meant as a compliment or an insult.”
“I’m not sure,” I breathed, feeling an inexplicable desire to touch him to see if he was real or if I was imagining him. “When I saw you coming out of the water, I thought for a moment that Baldur had escaped Helheim, for you couldn’t possibly be human.”
“I think your bit of smoke has done its duty, Liv,” Bjorn said. “Best get on with things, right?”
“Are you blushing, Bjorn?” The healer gave a sly smile. “I hadn’t thought it possible…”
“It’s hot in here.”
“It’s not,” I corrected him, admiring the slight flush of his cheeks. “It’s cold. But you always feel warm, like there is a fire burning inside of you. A fire I’d like to—”
Bjorn lifted my arm, and I broke off, staring with fascination at the red skin marked with blisters, feeling none of the nausea I had earlier at the sight of my charred and blackened palm. Liv picked the worst of it off with tiny silver tweezers, revealing parts of my hand that should not feel the touch of air. Then she smeared honey across my injuries before plucking up the moss and pressing it into the sticky mess on my palm. “Eir,” she whispered, “cast your eyes down upon this woman. If she is worthy, allow me to help her.”
Nothing happened.
Even through the haze of the narcotic, I felt a twinge of fear. Had I been judged unworthy? It would make sense, for had I not hidden my own gift rather than using it, as Hlin intended? Had I not murdered in cold blood the one who’d revealed my secret? Perhaps this was a sign I was not blessed but cursed. A sign the gods had turned their backs on me.
Bjorn’s grip on my elbow tightened almost painfully, and I slowly shifted my gaze to find him staring at my palm, his jaw tight and his eyes filled with…panic? “Don’t be petty, Eir,” he said between his teeth. “You know who deserves the punishment, and it is not her.”
“Bjorn…” Liv’s voice was warning. “Don’t challenge the gods else they might—”