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MY PARENTS HAD five strong, healthy, beautiful daughters, each worthy of the gods’ attention and each fit to make the clan proud.

They also had me.

My breathing hitched where it should come clear, and my body struggled to accept anything resembling strength no matter how hard Tova and I trained.

Even now, as my family trekked up the merciless mountain to the worship ground of the gods, I was the one trailing behind my sisters until we finally came to the foot of the ritual.

Our clan’s chieftain, Jarl Hakan, waited there to welcome the families who made the journey.

I planted my feet on slabs of rock and fought to steady my breathing as I took it all in. The ritual was a glorious sight to behold.

It was customary to worship the gods every autumn equinox. The trees had been in golden blaze for a month, so the mountain range more closely resembled a burning fire than anything, until the hues of amber and marigold gave way to the fjord below. At our backs, the sun dropped behind the sparkling sea to signal the start of the worship ceremony, but Vikings were never good about technicalities. From the sharp scent of blood in the air and how the dirt ran red at our feet, animal sacrifices had begun a while ago. From the wax seals, every clan was here. We only gathered peacefully for the gods. Still, tension cut through the air as sharp as the knives glistening from every hip.

The tentative peace held for now. Instead of fighting amongst each other, all heads were bowed before towering ash wood statues where men, women, and children muttered praises upon our mighty gods.

I’d begged the gods for many things before, but tonight, for the first time in my life, they would listen.

Tonight, I had something they wanted.

“We will pay respect to Jarl Hakan before entering the sacred grounds,”

Faoir said. He led us to the great archway entrance our leader stood before. Many other clans had leaders there, all equally large in size until one wondered if the peace tonight held out of respect for the gods or a fear of these men. As it was, I had little of either. As day slipped into night, I was eager to enter the sacred grounds and eager for my other task, but I would not risk slighting the chieftain by not offering my regards. Not when he, like the gods, had something I desired.

He watched us approach until we were at his feet.

“Jarl,”

Faoir said, as he and Móoir bowed. Then they stepped back. “My six daughters.”

He held out an arm to present us, with his proud gaze locked on the oldest, Tova.

I drove my knee into the ground, placed my hand on the splintered hilt of my axe, and bowed my head before Jarl Hakan. Beside me, my five sisters did the same—Tova on my right and the younger four on my left. It’d been three months since we had seen Jarl Hakan, though not three months since I’d been in his home.

He didn’t know how often I sneaked into his hut after the sun set behind the fjord. He would soon.

“The gods have undeniably blessed you.”

Jarl Hakan’s voice was like grating rocks and his face scarred from battle, deformed into something terrible, more closely resembling beast than man. His body was just as fearsome. Whispers say he descended from Odin himself, and none could deny it. Looking at him, it was no wonder he was the clan’s longest reigning chieftain; he’d bested all others who’d challenged him for leadership over the years until no one else dared to try.

He loomed beside the wooden posts marking the entrance to the sacred land, a torch in hand and gray wolf fur around his back. He’d slain that wolf with his bare hands—or so he claimed. In the torchlight, his famously silver eyes sparked.

I searched for his son, finding Trig on the other side of the arch. His head was bent to listen to the seer.

As if sensing my gaze, his blue eyes turned and found mine. My heart sped up. Something glistened from his neck, and I brightened to see the bear-tooth necklace hanging over his tunic. He’d given me a matching one.

Trig held my gaze for a moment before pulling away without a hint of emotion. An illusion, he’d called it. Hiding our hearts so no one saw. So no one could hurt us. It was a callous game he played well.

I could play too. I set my mouth in a thin line and looked back to his faoir.

“We thank the gods for them,”

Faoir was saying.

“I can see why.”

Jarl Hakan handed his torch to his golden-haired wife and stepped closer, dying grass crunching under his foot. I straightened as his watchful eye took in the sight of us.

I tried to control my breathing, but the raspy sound was hard to mask. When I couldn’t quiet it, I held it instead. To say such an act was uncomfortable would be putting it mildly, and my chest tightened in fierce protest until it was taking every ounce of strength I had not to draw in another rattled breath. Jarl Hakan would hear it though, and he’d see my weakness.

It wouldn’t have mattered. He’d made his decision about me, and I scored poorly. That much was evident in how easily his attention slid over me as if I was a vapor that wasn’t there at all. He was far more concerned with Tova, as all were. But then he turned to my other sisters and they each got a moment of his eye. It was the tiniest hint of disapproval but it buried an axe into my chest that hurt worse than my strained breathing.

“Such strong bones, healthy complexion, and beautiful features,”

Jarl Hakan praised, though he looked in the direction of my parents as if they’d been the ones to swing the axe or throw the spears day after day and had sculpted these muscles onto our bodies themselves.

My body straightened. I’d given the chieftain enough of my time, and rose first to step toward the altars while the crackle of the torch’s flame almost masked his last words. I wished it had.

“She really is chosen by the gods, isn’t she?”

Each of my sisters flinched. His praise wasn’t for us all, then. Only her.

Tova gave a gracious smile. “Have you seen Rune fight yet? She is a prodigy with the spear.”

She stepped back to allow me to be better seen.

The different lives the fates had given my sister and I could have easily festered pools of jealousy, but that hadn’t been the case. fact as sure as the fjord itself assured I’d never bear ill thoughts toward Tova—she was kind. Truly good to the bone, without a thread of malice in her. She had a sling of other attributes that made her beloved as well: her dark silken hair rolled down her back, her sharp jaw, strong figure, and her smile that had impelled more than one boy to compose poetry in her honor. She was fierce. She was brave. She was compassionate. Because of those things, she deserved to be loved, and she had my whole heart.

The clan, however, worshiped Tova for a different reason: the brown mark in the shape of three intertwined triangles on the nape of her neck. She’d been born with it, and none could deny Odin himself had marked her.

Our clan had never had a child marked by the gods before, and they never let Tova forget how special she was, usually in hopes of being blessed by the gods through her.

I had a mark too, an alarmingly long scar webbed down my left arm that seemed to expand every year since I’d fallen from a tree as a child and the branches tore my skin. It was strikingly obvious and the bane of my existence, along with my troubled breathing.

Sometimes I pretended it was my own mark from the gods. But if it was, all it symbolized was I was destined for mediocracy.

Still, I wouldn’t trade my place with Tova for anything. I saw what others did not. The constant praise made Tova feel lonely, like an isolated idol that wasn’t allowed to breathe—only be. Be perfect. Be strong. Be our beloved gift from the gods. Until she was with me, the one person who let her be whoever she wanted. I was seen by her, and she by me. We were each other’s safe harbors, and the bond between us was tight.

At Tova’s words, I lifted my chin. “I’m eager to join the winter raids if you’ll have me.”

Jarl Hakan’s tone was disregarding. “We shall see.”

He stepped beside his wife, but not before he leaned toward Faoir. “Let us speak soon.”

Faoir straightened. “It’d be an honor. I’ll seek an audience when I return.”

“No need,”

Jarl Hakan whispered. “It’ll be best if this were a private conversation.”

Faoir’s jaw ticked with worry, but he bowed his head, then led us under the arch and onto the sacred ground. I tried to put thoughts of the chieftain’s disapproval behind me as I entered the worship ritual and searched amongst the thick smoke, but I couldn’t see where Trig had gone.

There were about twenty altars in sight right now, but Njord’s was undeniably the most popular amongst my clan. Settled on the fjord in the region of Danmark, we had much to ask of the god of wind and sea. Móoir went to him first, dropping her shield to kneel on as she recited her prayers.

My family came with a long list of blessings we hoped for: a plentiful harvest, healthy family, and a kind winter. Móoir still prayed for a son, but she was past her years of receiving one. I wouldn’t ask for these things, though. I had only one request.

“Jarl Hakan seemed impressed with you,”

Tova whispered at my side.

“He hardly looked at me and we both know it,”

I muttered back. “It’s no matter. I’ll impress him when I fight.”

Incense burned, creating a poignant scent stinging my chest. The seer’s black lips peeled back to grin at us through the smoke. I gave him a wide berth as I passed, partly because his raspy voice and long, bony fingers unnerved me and partly because the smoke got caught in my lungs and made my breathing worse.

“Welcome, chosen one,”

he said in a scratchy voice as Tova passed. She bowed her head in respect. Even the fearless Tova had a glint of nerves in her eye when around the seer. His hungry gaze seemed to catch that, and his smile deepened.

“Odin watches you.”

The terrible sound of his voice slithered through the evening. “Soon, you will have the eye of every god.”

She flinched. Little did he know it was the eyes Tova hated. But she took the unprovoked prophecy in stride as she said, “I hope to please them.”

The curve of his brow said she would. Then his eye flicked to me, darkened, and he retreated.

I pushed thoughts of him away and swung my gaze around.

Before Njord’s altar, my sisters were presenting gifts at the foothold of the golden dais as heatwaves from the fire clouded the air around them. I didn’t look long before turning away. They’d learn someday just as I had—small tokens weren’t enough to make the gods listen to our mundane prayers.

I stepped into the taller grasses that snagged on the fur of my boots. By cutting through the trees, I’d find the tucked-away altar of the one god I still spoke with.

“Rune?”

Tova followed me, catching me by the hand. The torches illuminated the mass of freckles across her cheeks, the only feature that proved we were cut from the same cloth. The wrinkle in her brow cut deep. “Maybe just once, put your offering before Hariasa, ask her to bless your efforts to get a shield. Perhaps then you’ll find your strength.”

I choked on a bitter laugh. “If the gods saw fit to give me strength, it would have been years ago.”

“Ask Thor then. Show the gods you still care. Perhaps they are testing your faith to see if you stand true.”

“I do not need those gods,”

I reminded her. “You and I have trained together every day for our shields. That will be enough.”

She opened her mouth, but I stepped away.

That was the idea I hated the most—the gods were testing me by giving me this illness in my lungs. That somehow, they’d seen me as an innocent babe and decided the helpless child needed something to make her weak, so she had no choice but to rely on them.

I clutched my satchel tight and slipped further into the overgrowth. I would not rely on the major gods any longer. “Go pray to Odin, sister. I will pray to Aegir.”

Perhaps when listing my sister’s great attributes, I left one off. She saw the best in the world. It was an easy thing to do when the world had given you the best it had to offer. When you had comfort to fall back on, it was easy to walk through the little fires life threw at you. A great optimism still stirred in her, one that crumbled to ash inside me long ago.

“I will pray to them for you,”

she said. “Someday you will be healed.”

Truthfully, they might listen if Tova was the one asking. But I had other plans, ones more reliable than the ears of deaf gods. I cut through the shadows between the trees before she could say more. She wouldn’t have had the chance to follow anyhow. A young couple was reaching for her, likely to ask for her touch as a sign of the gods blessing over their marriage. She was worshiped nearly as much as the gods and visited their altars so often that if she hadn’t been marked at birth, she would have been marked as a favorite now.

As for me, I used to visit twice as often as her. I prayed daily, sometimes hourly for the gods to see me and heal my body. I prayed for kindness from those around me, for honor in the clans, for praise from my parents.

The pleas went unanswered.

When the gods didn’t answer for me, I prayed for others. I prayed my baby sister would survive the pox a few years ago. I prayed our weakening crops would come back to life.

Still, nothing.

Soon, the altars became a place of empty words and helpless cries. But there was one god I wanted to visit.

I stepped onto the beaten down path about a hundred meters away from the other altars where broken cobblestone was set in a small circle before a cut of birch wood. Other altars had gold plaques, finely carved smooth stone statues, or garlands of gems.

But this one was like me. Overlooked. Tucked away to give room for the major gods to shine.

I dusted fallen leaves from his plaque. The name, Aegir, was crudely carved into it. His lithe statue was constructed from driftwood depicting a man with sharp features, aged eyes, and hints of a smile as if he knew something no one else did. He wore a long cloak that I envisioned to be a brilliant blue like the depths of the sky, and his hair would be black as night and his skin ivory. I imagined him with a rough voice, something sounding like the waves of the sea hitting the shore outside our home, and he would laugh far more freely than Jarl Hakan did.

I imagined him here, listening to me, until I’d tricked my mind into sensing his presence.

“It’s me again,”

I whispered, lowering my knees into the dirt and bowing until slivers of grass grazed my forehead. Weeds clung to the stones, and I dug my fingers into them to feel the cold rock face as if I were touching the threshold of his home, beseeching him at his very door.

I recited the usual prayer. “Great god, bringer of justice and bearer of the waters. Your strength awes me, and I lay myself at your feet as a humble servant.”

I muttered the words, still bent to the ground. It was only when I reached for my pocket that I looked up. “I made you something.”

I reached into the pouch at my waist, pulling out a carved figure. I’d spent two months making it in Aegir’s exact likeness, though now I wondered if the smirk was exactly right or the cut of his nose was angled correctly.

It was no bigger than the length of my hand and the large statue dwarfed it, but I laid my gift at his feet.

Then I dipped my head. My hands touched something rough and I pulled a necklace free, the pebbles coated in dirt until the runes I’d carved were hard to see. “So, am I the only one who comes?”

I asked with a whisper, inspecting the gift I’d presented him last year. “They don’t even clean off your altar.”

I dropped the necklace. It made a hollow sound.

“I know something about not being wanted, but that’ll all change now.”

My voice gained a hint of an edge. “Today I am not asking for something, I’ve come to offer a trade.”

I looked up now as desperation turned my voice stronger, hoping he felt the urgency, too. Again, I swore I sensed his presence, but it could have been the presence of all my nerves surrounding me. I almost couldn’t get the words out.

There were many things I wanted: for my breathing condition to heal, to earn my shield in three weeks alongside Tova, to be respected in the clan. But I could live without those things. There was one thing I’d found to be too precious to lose, and I fought for it.

“I ask for love.”

I set one knee up and dared to look the carving of Aegir directly in the eye. Odin might smite me down if I stared at him so boldly, but Aegir needed to hear me clearly.

“This is all I ask. The chieftain’s son cares for me, and I for him. Let the fire between us keep burning for the rest of our lives, let him choose me always and I him, and let us find joy in each other. I beg you, Aegir, let this never be taken away from me, for at last, at his side, I will have a place in this clan. Someday, I will be the wife of the chieftain, and I will find my strength there.”

The statue stared at me, those dark eyes fixed on mine as I tightened the grip on my hilt, hoping for a sign. When I didn’t get it, I stood and stepped as close as I dared. I whispered in his ear. “I don’t care who you need to ask in Asgard to make this happen; give this to me, and when I am the wife of the chieftain, I will make you revered amongst the Fjord Clan. You will be worshipped more than any other.”

I couldn’t trust my breathing. I couldn’t trust the other clans wouldn’t attack this winter or our crops would grow in the spring, but I could trust the greed of gods.

It could have been the trick of the firelight, but at my words, one of his beady eyes flashed red.

“I’ll take that as we have a deal.”

I stood back and dusted myself off. I’d have offered a lot more to keep the one I love.

Speaking of that, I checked the sky. I was due to meet Trig soon. I left the carving I made before the altar, checked once to see no one was watching, then slipped into the trees.