I paced back and forth as Ylva pulled a dress over her naked body, which was a combination of long lines and rich curves that helped explain Snorri’s devotion to her, though in my opinion even perfect breasts couldn’t compensate for her personality. “Don’t be frightened, Freya,” she said. “Snorri will defeat him, and Gnut’s people will see the smoke from the pyres of their dead warriors when they wake in the morning. It will be an omen that the foretelling is coming to fruition, and respect for Snorri will grow.”
I wasn’t afraid. I was furious. People would die tonight defending me, and instead of battling alongside them, I was hiding with the helpless. “Our people will die, too. Don’t you care about them?”
“Of course I care,” she snapped. “I wish for our people to be strong—strong enough that no one dares to attack us, and the only way for that to happen is for Skaland to be united. You will make that happen.”
“How?” I was in her face, though I didn’t remember moving. “I am the child of a minor god, my magic useful only in protecting myself in combat. What is it that you believe I can do that will cause all of Skaland to follow Snorri?”
“Only the gods know, but whatever you do, our skald will see. And she will sing the songs of your exploits across all of Skaland until every man and woman swears an oath to Snorri.”
“All she will sing, then, is that I hid from danger in the great hall like a child.” I turned and walked out of the room.
The hall was empty of warriors, with only women, children, and the elderly sitting silently where before they had danced, the garlands hanging from pillars and rafters drooping, the remains of the feast congealing on the platters. It smelled of mead and vomit and fear, and it took all my restraint not to force my way out the doors, because this was not where I belonged.
I needed a weapon. I needed to defend these people. I needed to fight.
Spotting the sword Snorri had gifted me at the wedding ceremony where it leaned against my chair, I reached for it before remembering the dull blade. Then my eyes latched on my father’s sword. Snorri’s sword, now, but I didn’t care as I picked it up, examining the keen edge.
Sharp enough to cut. Sharp enough to kill.
Tossing aside my cloak, I strode toward the doors, but Ylva’s voice stopped me in my tracks. “On your life, you do not allow her to leave.”
The two men she’d been speaking to shifted in front of the doors, their arms crossed, weapons in hand. Seasoned fighters from the look of them, but if I took up one of the many shields decorating the hall and called my magic, there was a chance I could get past them.
Except what if I hurt them in the process?
Injuring warriors, and potentially myself, when there was a battle raging outside and dozens of innocents inside needing protection, was a stupid plan.
A better plan would be to find another way out.
“Fine.” I lowered my sword, but as though sensing my thoughts, Ylva said, “The room is locked, Freya. Sit down, pour yourself a drink, and stay out of trouble.”
Gods, but I was beginning to loathe this woman. Gritting my teeth, I took a seat at a table near the edge of the room, sword rested across my thighs.
Screams and shouts filtered through the walls. Clansmen and women who hadn’t been at the feast and who were fleeing Gnut’s warriors, and part of me started to worry that I didn’t need to leave to find the fight.
Because it would find me.
Drumming my fingers on the table, I considered my options. Either fight the men barring my path or try to get through the locked doors to Snorri’s quarters, then out through the escape tunnel. Neither guaranteed success.
The screams outside clawed at my insides. Every muscle in my body tensed, needing to move. Children wept in their mothers’ arms, all of them knowing what would come if the hall was breached. All of them knowing it would be our bodies that burned, the smoke rising like that which escaped through the—
Opening above.
I flicked my gaze to the hole in the roof of the great hall, not even visible in the shadows, though I knew it was there. Big enough for me to fit through if only I could climb into the rafters without anyone noticing.
Except what could I do from the rooftop?
The answer lay in a bow and quiver someone had left behind, likely in favor of a shield and blade. Getting to my feet, I strode to the table the weapons leaned against, slinging them over my shoulder before heading to a ladder leading to the upper level.
“What are you doing?” Ylva snapped.
“If they get in,” I answered, “I’ll kill as many as I can.”