Page 24 of The Magic of Vanaheim

Waiting for them under the overhanging branches of an ancient ash tree stood Perhonen, the Seeress, and the Captain of the Guard, but to Håkon’s surprise, no one else was present. Didn’t Prince Talvinen want as many people as possible to witness his captive’s humiliation?

Frekegar snarled at him, but the seeress greeted them with a gentle smile.

“You both look very handsome,” she said. Her demeanor towards Prince Talvinen was almost motherly, which had a creepy quality of its own. “Are you ready, Talvi?”

“Ready. Come here, Håkon.”

The notion was ridiculous, as he was still holding Håkon’s hand, but he seemed eager to pull Håkon even closer. It was weirdly endearing; as if Talvinen could hardly wait to marry him. But that couldn’t be true. Maybe Talvinen was bound by some strangeVanircustom that demanded respect toward his betrothed? But Håkon doubted he would show the same courtesy to an unwanted spouse.

“Håkon?” Talvinen gave his hand a little squeeze, pulling Håkon out of his thoughts. “It’s time.”

Stepping in front of Perhonen under the ash tree felt like a strange dream. In another life, if theNornirhad weaved the threads of fate only slightly differently, all of this could’ve been real. He could’ve been the real heir to the throne, wedding a noble wife. For some twisted reason, the image made him feel sick. There was no reality where he’d fit, not even the kind of fanciful dreams.

“I’ve got a gift for you,” Talvinen whispered, gesturing to Frekegar.

Håkon tensed. This didn’t bode well.

“Are you sure about this?” Frekegar asked. He didn’t look amused.

“Absolutely sure.”

“He wanted to plunge a dagger into your back as a wedding gift. You shouldn’t honor him with such a valuable present.”

Giving his captain a flat look, Talvinen made an impatient gesture.

“Fine, have it your way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up with a knife between your ribs,” Frekegar grumbled, but offered Talvinen an object wrapped in fine linen.

Judging by its elongated shape, Håkon already knew what it was. But as Talvinen unwrapped the cloth, offering him a magnificent sword, Håkon stared at it uncomprehendingly, nonetheless.

“This isIsbani,” Talvinen said, unsheathing the blade.

Hands clenching uselessly at his sides, Håkon braced himself. But instead of striking him down with a quick blow, Talvinen offered him the sword hilt first.

“It’s an heirloom of my dynasty, and it shall protect you, just as this family will protect you from now on.”

Reluctantly, Håkon accepted the gift. The sword lay well in his hand, perfectly balanced. It was a prize befitting a king. If Talvinen meant what he’d said, he was crazy indeed. But a crazy ruler wouldn’t stay in power as long as Talvinen had. Which left only one other explanation: cruelty. Talvinen was toying with him like a cat with a mouse.

“Thank you,” Håkon said tonelessly.

He considered attacking his husband-to-be there and then, but with two powerful spellweavers watching his every move, his chances of dealing a deadly blow were none. He’d have to wait for an opportunity to kill Talvinen, hoping to stay alive long enough to achieve his goal. Not very likely.

“Don’t you like it?” Talvinen asked, almost as if he’d sensed Håkon’s gloomy thoughts. He even managed to sound disappointed.Hel,the boy would’ve made an excellent skald. “I know you prefer the battle ax, but the sword is a more traditional wedding gift.”

“A gift worthy of a king,” Håkon replied, trying and failing to swallow down the bitterness about his fate. He was used to being treated as inferior to the nobles and considered an outcast among the free men, but this mocking reverence had him bristling. It showed him too vividly what he could have had if the circumstances of his birth had been just a tiny bit different.

“A gift worthy of you,” Talvinen whispered, leaning in as if he were sharing a secret.

Håkon wanted to argue. Every instinct told him to protest, to emphasize once again that he wasn’t a prince and would never rule as king. He wanted to repeat all the assurances that had kept him alive at a court that saw him as a potential threat to the throne. But that had to be what Talvinen wanted, to remind him that this marriage was a dishonorable spectacle, and that Håkon was only a means of humiliating Bergelmir.

But he could play this game too. Giving the wonderful sword one last look, Håkon grabbed the blade just underneath the hilt and tossed the weapon to Frekegar, who was so surprised that he barely managed to catch it.

“Hold that for me,” Håkon ordered and turned toward the seeress.

“Step a little closer, will you?” she said, smiling her eerie smile.

Squaring his shoulders, Håkon followed her.

Talvinen took his hand again, lookingoh so smug. This must be his ultimate satisfaction, the opportunity to humiliate theJötnarand maybe even conquer the Frost Realm one day.