The rhythmic beat of drums echoed through the air as I walked, though it did little to drown the moans of pleasure of the revelers as they sought release on the ground or against trees, some wearing masks and some not, all of them strangers. Perhaps Bjorn was among them. Perhaps he’d left the hall in order to find pleasurable pursuits, thinking that I’d have the wisdom to remain behind the wards. My stomach soured, but logic immediately chased away the idea. There was too much at stake for him to take that sort of risk.
Except that he had left the hall of his own volition. Which begged the question of why?
The question repeated to the beat of the drums, my stomach twisting even as my chest constricted, every breath a challenge.
I wove through the narrow paths, searching, but not a single familiar face appeared. Shivers stole over me, my arms and legs weak as I eyed the other sleeping halls, but guards stood in the perimeters around them, watching over the jarls and their families within.
What if everyone was dead? “They aren’t,” I whispered at my terror. “No one would dare kill them within the confines of Fjalltindr. It’s forbidden.”
I took a step down a path, then light from the Hall of the Gods caught my eye. Dozens of brilliant torches encircled the structure, and as I watched, a shadow passed in front of them.
Moving closer, I eventually made out the face of Tora. If she was here, then Harald surely was as well, and if he’d taken Bjorn, this would be where he had him. Tora stood with her arms crossed in front of the entrance, expression implacable. Though she was unarmed, and presumably her magic as curtailed as my own by the power of this place, she was still twice my size, which meant I would not get past her by force without warning those inside.
Shit.
I circled the building, wishing the revelers would quit laughing and humping and banging on drums so I could bloody well hear, but knowing my people as I did, they’d be at it until dawn.
The only door was the one guarded by Tora, and there were no windows. Stepping over the stream that flowed beneath the building, I paused, because if the water that flowed around the statues inside could exit, that meant there was an opening. Picking my way upstream, I reached the outcropping on which the hall sat. Water trickled down the rock, making soft tinkling sounds.
Feeling for handholds, I climbed, cursing silently as the antlers on my mask scratched against the wood of the hall’s wall. The freezing water numbed my hands, but I barely noticed as I peered through the narrow opening through which the water flowed. Immediately, my eyes went to where Harald stood.
He was speaking but I couldn’t make out his words over the tinkle of water and the noise of the revels. Just as I couldn’t make out the face of the individual he was speaking to, for the person, or persons, were hidden from view by Loki’s statue. I searched the shadows for any sign of Bjorn, Ylva, Snorri, or the rest of our companions, but found nothing. So my eyes drew back to the king.
He was angry, gesticulating and pointing.
Who was he speaking to?
“Did you think there wouldn’t be a cost to this?” I caught some of his words during a lull in the drums and leaned forward. “…he’ll destroy everything you care about if…this is the only way you can be certain Snorri won’t…”
My heart broke into a gallop at Snorri’s name, and I silently shrieked at the revelers to be silent as they broke into song.
“A good mother protects her son…does what it takes to…”
Loud voices from the revels drowned out the rest, but Harald ceased gesticulating, focusing intently on the unseen speaker.
The singing stopped.
“Then that is our plan,” Harald said. “He trusts you. Go—” A loud shriek of laughter drowned out the rest of what Harald said before he turned and left the building, leaving whomever he’d been speaking to in the hall alone.
I needed to see who it was.
There wasn’t space to climb through the hole and into the hall, so I swiftly climbed back down, scuttling around the side of the building. I crouched in the shadows, waiting to see who’d emerge, but the door remained shut. Unease filled my chest, and I crept up to the door, quietly opening it.
Lanterns still burned inside the hall, illuminating the statues, but nothing stirred. Whoever had been in here with Harald was gone.
“Shit,” I snarled, twisting on my heels to scan the shadows, searching for a fleeing figure, but all I saw were people dancing around fires in the distance.
Who was it? Who had been conspiring with Harald?
Was it someone I knew?