“Yes, Bjorn. That’s exactly what I wish you to do.” Snorri tilted his head. “Unless you wish to give me cause to doubt your loyalty by refusing?”
Father and son stared each other down, the tension palpable enough that the other warriors shifted in their saddles. This was a test, that much was evident, and it was my misfortune to be caught in the middle of it.
It was Bjorn who conceded, breaking off the stalemate with a shrug. “As you like.”
He slid off his horse, then strode toward me with predatory grace, flirtatious smile long gone. I was swiftly reminded of how much larger than me he was, and all of it muscle. But that wasn’t what filled me with fear. No, the fear that lit my veins and made me want to run, made me want to cower, came when his mouth formed the name Tyr and an axe made of fire appeared in his hand.
I could feel the heat of it, the weapon burning far hotter than natural flame, the flickers of red and orange and blue so bright they stung my eyes. The flame of a god. The flame of war.
“What do you wish to achieve?” he asked Snorri. “You want proof she can’t fight? Here—”
He swung at me.
I stumbled back with a yelp, tripping on a root and falling on my arse, losing my weapon.
“There’s your proof. Send her back to her husband and the fish.”
“That is not the proof I seek,” Snorri answered, and my stomach flipped with the fear that this would cost me far more than pride.
I climbed to my feet to discover that the other warriors had my brother by the arms, holding him back. Vragi sniggered from beyond.
“To first blood, then?” Bjorn demanded. There was anger in his voice, the flames of his axe flaring with the emotion. He didn’t want this fight, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it to prove his loyalty. To do otherwise meant dire consequences, which I doubted he would be willing to suffer for a woman he didn’t know.
“No.” Snorri dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to another warrior before crossing his arms. “To the death.”
My stomach dropped, the world around me suddenly too bright. To the death?
“This is madness,” Bjorn snarled. “You’d have me kill this woman? Why? Because that waste of flesh”—he gestured at Vragi—“wants a new wife?”
“Vragi is a child of Njord. He is a man of value, and he’s proven his loyalty.”
I was no longer certain if this was about me. Or if it was about Bjorn. Or if it was about something else entirely. The only thing I knew for certain was that fear strangled me, refusing to give me a voice.
“And I haven’t?” Bjorn lifted his flaming axe, and the jarl had the wits to take a wary step backward. “I’ve done everything you ever asked of me.”
“Then what is one more thing?” Snorri tilted his head. “You will do this, or you will give back your arm band and go into exile, no longer my son in name or spirit. And lest you think your sacrifice will spare the woman, know that it will not. I’ll merely have someone else fight in your stead.”
The muscles in Bjorn’s jaw stood out in stark relief and his green eyes were narrow with fury, but he gave a tight nod. “Fine.”
“Freya!” my brother shouted. “Run!”
I couldn’t unfreeze from where I stood. Couldn’t think of what I might do to extract both me and Geir from this situation with our lives. The only path I saw was to fight.
And to win.
“What if I kill him?”
I half expected Snorri to laugh, but he only lifted one shoulder. “If you kill Bjorn, Freya, I’ll pull that arm band from his corpse and put it on you. You may have his place in my drakkar when we sail on summer raids, and his share of the wealth that comes with it.”
I lifted my chin, hating that there was part of me that felt the allure of such a prize. “And a divorce from Vragi.”
That drew a soft chuckle from Snorri’s lips, and he glanced at Vragi. “You agree to the end of this marriage?”
My husband sneered. “Gladly.”
The chances of me defeating a famed warrior such as Bjorn were slim. Made far slimmer still by him being gifted by Tyr. But fights were unpredictable, and I was not without skill. “Fine.”
Snorri nodded, then looked to the beautiful woman watching from her horse. “We will have a song of this, Steinunn. One way or another.”
“As you say, my lord,” the woman answered, curiosity growing in her eyes as she met my stare. Whatever was going on here, she clearly knew no more than I did. Rolling my shoulders to ease the tension in them, I said to one of the still-mounted warriors, “Might I have use of your shield?”