It was understandable why he hadn’t tried to escape as a child, but much less so as a grown man, because as a child of Tyr, Bjorn was always armed. And even untrained, a boy with an axe made of a god’s fire could do a great deal of damage.
Silence.
I cringed internally. When will you learn to shut your mouth, Freya?
He cleared his throat. “I swore blood oaths as a child not to try to escape. Harald has many powerful individuals in his service, including those adept with rune magic.”
“Being rescued didn’t violate your oath?” I asked, curious given that I’d recently sworn my own.
“Clearly not.”
“I heard that Snorri lost many men and drakkar rescuing you,” I said, unsure why I kept pressing the topic. “He must care for you very much to have kept trying.”
“He knew he needed the fire of a god to find you,” Bjorn answered. “His rescue attempts didn’t begin until I’d been in Nordeland for two years, which was when he learned my magic had manifested.”
Oh.
It hadn’t been sentiment that had driven Snorri to rescue his son, but the selfish need to claim the destiny he dreamed of. It was no wonder they weren’t close. Needing to change the subject before I dug up any more wounds, I said, “What about the seer who spoke the foretelling. Why not ask them for information about what I’m supposed to do?”
“Because she is dead.”
His voice was sharp, and understanding slowly dawned on me as I put the pieces together. Swallowing hard, I said, “The seer was your mother?”
Bjorn gave a tight nod.
A million questions reared in my head, but it was more than apparent that Bjorn wanted nothing to do with this conversation. Still, I hazarded one. “Were you there when she spoke the foretelling?”
“I was too young to remember.”
Of course, that made sense. “Did she ever say anything else about me? Ever say why the gods believed I’d be able to achieve such a fate?”
He hesitated, then said, “Her gift was her downfall. I don’t enjoy talking about it.”
Gods, I needed to cut out my own tongue because one day I’d build my own barrow with it. But before I could start in on apologies, footfalls thudded down the dock overhead. A heartbeat later, Snorri’s voice filtered down. “Get out of the water. Your brother has returned with news.”
My curiosity grew with each passing second as we walked, dripping, back to the great hall. Neither Snorri nor Bjorn said anything, both their jaws set and expressions unreadable, and it made me wonder about Bjorn’s relationship with his younger half-brother.
I got my answer the moment we walked into the hall. A boy a few summers shy of manhood raced across the floor to collide with Bjorn, clearly delighted to see his elder brother as they pounded each other on the back. Beyond, Ylva stood by the fire with her arms crossed and mouth drawn into a thin line as she watched the exchange.
“Is it true you killed a full score of Gnut’s warriors?” Leif demanded. “Then set fire to his ships?”
Bjorn shook his head. “I merely provided the flame. Was Freya who set them ablaze.”
At my name, Leif turned from his brother, looking me up and down. I gave him the same courtesy. He was only slightly taller than I was, and quite slight, his hair golden blond where his brother’s was dark, and his eyes blue rather than green. They had the same high cheekbones and square jaw, though Leif’s chin had several years to go before it would manage a beard worth growing. He would age into a fine-looking man, I suspected, though he lacked Bjorn’s almost otherworldly beauty. It made me wonder what Bjorn’s mother had looked like, for it must be her who’d given him such different coloring. “You are the shield maiden, then?” he asked, and without waiting for a response added, “I suppose I must congratulate you on your marriage to my father.”
Absolutely nothing in his tone suggested congratulations, which was perhaps fair, given that Ylva was his mother, but I gave him a slight nod. “Thank you.”
He scowled, then turned his back on me in favor of his brother. “We captured a spy.”
Bjorn shifted on his feet, eyes narrowing. “Whose spy?”
An older warrior, a man with brown skin and silver-streaked dark hair twisted into a knot behind his head, stepped forward. “We don’t know. No one recognizes her and she’s refused to speak.”
“You should have put fire to her feet, Ragnar.” Ylva moved to rest a hand on Leif’s shoulder. “She’d have sung for you then.”