Page 36 of The Magic of Vanaheim
Gudrun sat down at the pool’s edge and helped herself to a cold slice of venison.
“I’m sorry,” she said, fixing him a plate like a peace offering. “I know you don’t fancy tumbling the maiden, but I thought—I hoped—you’d prefer the company of a warrior.”
Håkon choked on the piece of apple he’d just put into his mouth. “What?”
“Prince Talvinen is a handsome man, and I thought—” Gudrun watched him in growing alarm. “Did you not enjoy lying with him?”
Heat rose to Håkon’s face. Damn that woman and her shameless questions!
“That’s not the point,” he grumbled. “And you know very well not everyone’s a worshiper of Freyja.”
“I know,” Gudrun said placatingly. “Of course, I know. But I was always under the impression that you could be inclined to pray to her, given the right circumstances. Did I assume too much?”
Håkon shook his head, but didn’t dare look his friend in the eye. How much did she know? And if Gudrun had guessed that he preferred a warrior to a maiden, perhaps others could, too. Did anyone else know? And had Gudrun also noticed the other thing?
“Whatever Bergelmir said, this is nothing you should be ashamed of. Being told who to bed is a silly tradition anyway, just like forbidding a shieldmaiden to fight in yourlið.”
Relief made Håkon sag against the edge of the pool. Gudrun’s easy acceptance made him breathe more easily.
“I agree,” he mumbled.
Slipping closer, Gudrun took his hand, squeezing tightly.
“You owe him nothing, Håkon, do you hear me? Nothing.”
“Talvinen? I know, I—”
“I’m talking about Bergelmir, silly!” Gudrun hissed. “You owe your damned father nothing!”
“He’s my king,” Håkon said, taken aback by Gudrun’s outburst. But she only gave a derisive snort at his words.
“Think about it! This could be your chance. If Talvinen proves himself to be a good man, you could rule over your own kingdom. You could be free and finally live by your own rules.”
Her words stung like a knife in the gut. She couldn’t seriously believe that Talvinen would want him like that. And even if he did—
“My honor forbids it.”
Gudrun’s grip on his hand turned almost painful.
“He betrayed you. Not once, but multiple times. He might’ve used Brogar to do the dirty work for him on occasion, but we both know that little viper does nothing without your father’s consent.”
“But—”
“Please, just think about it. Why don’t you give yourself some time to find out what kind of leader Talvinen is? You can decide which side to choose later. But don’t let Bergelmir take this opportunity away from you before you even consider it.”
Throat constricting, Håkon blinked. There was something in his eyes, making them water, and he wasn’t sure what to tell Gudrun. He wanted this. Oh, how he wanted it. But could he allow himself to hope?
“Would you stay with me?”
It was Gudrun’s turn to utter a baffled sound, almost a sob. He didn’t dare to look at her, afraid she might be crying.
“Always. Even if I have to play the cook forever.”
To Håkon’s relief, he found Talvinen had left him new clothes to wear. When he left the bath, servants had brought a whole chest filled with the finest garments for Håkon to choose from.
Gudrun gracefully sank to her knees and rummaged through the clothes. Now and then, she whistled when an item caught her fancy.
“You should wear this.” She tossed him a black tunic laced with intricate silver ornaments. “And this.” Black riding breeches of fine leather were next.