Page 2 of The Magic of Vanaheim

“Would you become my husband? When I’m grown up, of course.”

“I’m no prince,” Håkon said, perplexed. What was the boy talking about? Maybe he’d misheard? The boy didn’t speak the tongue of theJötnarperfectly, after all.

“Now, don’t be rude, Håkon. Our young lordling is certainly a good catch.” Gudrun roughly poked his side. She was clearly amused by the situation.

The boy, however, regarded Håkon with an intense focus. It made him seem older, lending him something that Håkon could only describe as an aura of power. He could suddenly imagine that this boy might indeed grow up into a mighty warrior.

“Yes, of course. It’d be an honor,” Håkon stuttered, unsure what to do with this strange child.

Gudrun laughed at his clumsy response, but the boy’s face lit up with such a sincere, elated smile that Håkon couldn’t be cross.

Drawing himself up a little taller, hands clasped behind his back, the boy bowed.

“I promise you, I’m going to be worthy of you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be—” Håkon floundered, but the boy nodded at him as if he’d spoken timeless wisdom.

“I have to leave now,” the boy said, and with that he turned on his heels, disappearing between the tents like a shade.

Håkon blinked. “What was that about?”

Gudrun chuckled. “You’ve got a suitor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Maybe he meant he wanted me to attend his wedding?”

Yeah, that would be a reasonable explanation. A powerful warrior’s blessing was considered good luck in many homesteads across the Nine Worlds.

“You’re adorable,” Gudrun cooed. “But believe me, the boy meant what he said.”

“Huh?”

“You realize that the customs of theVanirare vastly different from ours, right?”

Should the boy have been one of the accursed sorcerers of Vanaheim? He couldn’t imagine.

“TheVanirare weak,” Håkon said.

Gudrun’s lips twisted. “Are they?”

“Lesser gods, relying on magic to protect themselves. Pathetic.”

Absentmindedly, Håkon placed the little ring over his heart. He could feel the magic-repelling protection of the runic tattoos covering his chest and arms pulsing beneath his skin. They would ward off any attempt to enchant him unless it was really powerful.

“Sure,” Gudrun hummed. “Although, you would be crown prince if it were for the laws of theVanir.”

Håkon didn’t look at her. He knew that many people, not least his father, expected him to try to usurp the throne at some point. But as much as he hated his half-brother, he wouldn’t plunge Jotunheim into a war of succession and make it easy prey for their foes.

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled, turning toward the warriors already surrounding them.

Unsure what to do with the boy’s gift, he slipped the ring in the pouch on his belt.

two

Siege

Ten winters after the þing - ?alvi

“My Prince, wake up!”