Then he gave his head a shake, looking away from me. “You gave a very convincing performance.”
Shock radiated through me. He’d thought that I’d been faking my reaction to him? Thought all of that was nothing more than an act to put Harald’s warriors off my trail?
A hollowness formed in my stomach, and I allowed my legs to slip from his waist, righting the bodice of my dress so that my breasts were once again concealed. I was painfully aware of the slickness between my thighs, my core aching with need that hadn’t been satisfied, and never would be.
But that was a familiar disappointment. Nothing compared to the hurt in my heart, because I’d thought…
You’re an idiot, Freya.
I’d nearly been kidnapped by Skaland’s greatest enemy, and my concerns were for my cursed feelings.
Sucking in a deep breath, I said, “Why did that work, Bjorn? Why didn’t they demand to see my face?”
His grip on my hips tightened, then he dropped his hands. “Because they know I’m not fool enough to cuckold my own father.”
Apparently I was the only one foolish enough to do that.
Shouts and commotion drew my attention back to the hall. Snorri stood before the open door, barking orders.
What I should have felt was relief, but next to him stood Ylva, and the sight of that backstabbing bitch filled me with fury. I wanted to stride across the space between us and knock her on her arse before revealing what she’d done, even if it hadn’t worked out in her favor.
A hand closed around my wrist, and I looked up into Bjorn’s eyes.
“Don’t,” he said. “If you make accusations without proof, my father won’t believe you.”
“She was the one who convinced him to take all the guards. How is that not proof?”
“For which she had good reason. He trusts Ylva, but more than that, he knows of the tension between you two. He’ll see your words as an attempt to discredit her out of jealousy.”
“I am not jealous of her.” The words came out from between my teeth. “I want to push her off a cliff.”
Instead of being horrified at such a dark truth, Bjorn laughed. “So say all jealous women.”
I gave him a flat stare, but he only smirked. “Go. And hold your tongue, for it is to your advantage that those who conspire against you believe you unaware.”
He was right, but I still wanted to grind my teeth that Ylva was going to get away with her actions tonight. I needed to be smart, needed to be strategic, but I was so tired. Tired and embarrassed and unsatisfied. My eyes pricked with tears even as I cursed myself for caring so much about the wrong things.
Twisting out of Bjorn’s grip, I took two steps, then froze as he said in a low voice, “It isn’t you who has cause to be jealous, Freya.”
A shiver ran through me, though I didn’t know why. Ylva was no more jealous of me than I was of her. Not answering, I pulled off the antlered mask, throwing it into the bushes before I walked through the revelers to where Snorri stood, still shouting orders.
His eyes fixed on me, widening. “Where did you go? Why did you leave the protection of the wards?”
“I woke to find myself alone.” Hesitating, I added, “I feared the worst for you and went in search.” Better he believe that than the truth.
Snorri’s frown softened even as Ylva scowled. “The hall was warded. You were an idiot to leave.”
I bit my tongue and hung my head, and to my surprise, Snorri snapped, “Where were you, Ylva? You were no more supposed to leave the wards than she was!”
“Bjorn was with her,” she retorted. “The question we should be asking is where is he now?”
Snorri’s eyes panned over the revels beyond, then focused on Ylva, his voice frigid. “You didn’t answer my question.”
He was suspicious, and though it was for the wrong reasons, I waited for Ylva to start squirming.
I should’ve known better.
The lady of Halsar lifted her chin and glared at her husband. “You wish to know where I was? I was with—”
“She was with me.”
At the sound of the voice, everyone turned.
A tall woman approached. She was dressed in a warrior’s attire, less the weapons, with a dozen other women at her heels, all dressed similarly. She was perhaps Snorri’s age, her silvered hair pulled back in war braids and her bare arms marked with faded scars. Coming to a stop, she hooked her thumbs into her belt. “Jarl Snorri.”
His jaw tightened. “Jarl Bodil.”