The older warrior tugged on his beard, which was long enough that the silver rings on it brushed against the chest of his mail vest. “Thought better to bring her to the jarl, my lady.”
“Perhaps she is not a spy,” Bjorn interjected. “Perhaps she doesn’t speak our language.”
Ragnar snorted. “She understands well enough. And she tried to escape. Twice.”
“Compelling enough evidence for you, Bjorn?” Ylva’s voice was saccharine and Leif cast a sideways frown at her. “It was a fair question, Mother.”
She snorted. “He merely balks at the thought of torturing a woman.”
“Whereas you seem to relish the thought,” Bjorn retorted.
Leif threw up his skinny arms, face visibly annoyed. “You two fight like cornered cats. Father, how you stand them constantly carrying on like this is beyond my understanding. You should put an end to it for all our sakes.”
“Would require gagging them both, day and night. Or cutting out their tongues.” Snorri waved a hand at them. “Both of you be silent, for once. Ragnar, bring the prisoner in and we will see what she has to say for herself.”
I found the dynamic fascinating. The conflict between Bjorn and Ylva was obviously something Leif and Snorri were well aware of, though Leif seemed more troubled by it, which suggested he played peacemaker more often than not. Where would I fit into this mix of personalities? Would I make things better? Or worse?
Worse, I thought, not missing the sidelong look Leif gave me as Ragnar left the great hall. The old warrior returned moments later with a woman, a sack obscuring her face and her wrists bound. She wore a nondescript brown dress, the front stained with blood and the hem soaked with mud. Light brown hair that was streaked with gray hung in clumps down her back.
Snorri reached up and pulled the sack from the woman’s head, revealing an aged woman with colorless eyes. She blinked once at me—
And then her head toppled from her neck.
The smell of burnt hair and flesh filling my nose as her body slumped to the ground, blood seeping from the nearly cauterized stump.
I jerked backward even as Ylva shrieked, covering Leif’s eyes with one hand, though he shoved her away with annoyance, eyes skipping between the corpse and his brother.
“Explain yourself,” Snorri roared at Bjorn, who had already vanquished his axe, his arms crossed and his face fixed.
“Her name is Ragnhild. She’s sworn to Harald, and”—he reached down to tear open the back of her dress, revealing the crimson tattoo of an eye—“she’s a child of Hoenir.”
I pressed a hand to my mouth, staring at the head resting near my feet. Hoenir’s children were able to speak into the minds of those who bore their tokens, showing them visions. And Ragnhild had seen me.
“Didn’t you check her for marks?” Snorri demanded of Leif, whose cheeks colored as he said, “I wasn’t about to undress an old woman.”
“Your morals get in the way of good sense!” Snorri lifted a hand as though he might strike his younger son, but instead spat on the floor.
“With luck, I killed her before she sent him any visions,” Bjorn said. “Else your most dangerous enemy knows your shield maiden has been found.”
“What she saw matters little!” Ylva snapped. “Harald would have learned about Freya soon enough, yet for the sake of keeping him in the dark a week or two longer, you sacrificed the opportunity for us to learn something about him. We could have made Ragnhild talk!”
“Unlikely, given that she has no tongue and Harald has her only token.”
I swallowed hard. “What is her token?”
His green eyes met mine. “He wears her dried tongue on a cord around his neck at all times. He is the only person she could speak to.”
It was a struggle on many levels to keep from vomiting. “Did he cut it out?”
Bjorn shook his head. “Her former master did. Harald took it from around his neck when he killed him.” His eyes moved to Ylva. “Harald will learn of her, yes. But delaying the information gives us time to prepare. Time to make alliances so that you might defend against his attack, which will come. He has no desire to see Skaland united beneath your rule, especially given he knows you plan to bring war to Nordeland.”
“For twenty years, I’ve waited for Freya.” Snorri rubbed at his temple. “And now that I have her, I find myself in a race against time, faced with doom should I take one wrong step.”
I struggled not to snort in disgust. For my entire life, he’d had time to prepare for this moment, whereas until a matter of days ago, I’d been entirely unaware that powerful men across two nations were plotting their moves for the day I made my name known. Snorri had no excuse not to be prepared.