Page 8 of The Magic of Vanaheim

“Yeah,” Gudrun’s smile turned wistful. “Did you know Thrym was also friends with Ahti, the Queen of Vanaheim?”

“You mean the King of Vanaheim, Queen Vellamo’s husband?” Håkon scoffed. Was Gudrun finally getting whimsical with age?

“No, no, Queen Ahti. Bergelmir has her called a man out of spite.”

“Who fathered the two princes, then?”

Really, what was Gudrun talking about? But she only laughed.

“They’re powerfulvölur, indeed, Ahti and Vellamo. Goddesses of water, some say.” With that said, she turned toward the ruins. Her words made little sense to Håkon. “Shall we hunt now? We only have so much time until we must ride back to Utgard.”

Håkon felt a headache forming behind his temples. He pinched his nose.

“Give me a moment alone.”

Slipping from his horse’s back, he stepped toward the burnt hall to stand between the skeleton of its busted beams. A deep sadness settled in his gut, and Håkon found himself pulling out the ring from under his leather harness that he wore on a thin silver chain around his neck. The small green stone glowed in the twilight, its sight calming Håkon as always.

Unbidden, his thoughts wandered to theVanirchieftain as they had so many times since the failed raid all those years ago. Could he really be the same boy who’d come to him at theþing? It seemed so unlikely, yet deep down it rang true.

If Håkon had grown up here in Thrymheim instead of Bergelmir’s court, would theVanirhave visited? Would there have been a chance to meet the young warrior under Thrymheim’s roof not as an enemy, but as an ally? Håkon couldimagine that. How the boy would have ridden up to the mighty hall with a broad smile on his face and an entourage ofvölurand warriors in tow. How he would have looked out for Håkon in the gathered crowd and waved to him enthusiastically as soon as he spotted him. A deep sense of longing came over Håkon, making him dizzy for a moment. The image of the boy in his mind’s eye seemed more like a vision than a figment of his imagination. What was wrong with him?

Gasping for air, Håkon was suddenly in a hurry to leave the hall.

“We should go.”

Gudrun gave him a puzzled look, but didn’t question him.

As they followed the path along the lake, Håkon knew that theVanirchieftain would haunt his most shameful dreams for weeks to come.

Wooden masks and animal skulls adorning the walls watched him out of empty eye sockets while Håkon waited for the king. It was only the third time Bergelmir had invited him into his private chambers, and these encounters never bode well. Had someone told Bergelmir about his detour to Thrymheim during patrol?

Uneasily, Håkon shifted his stance. The ban on carrying weapons in his father’s inner sanctum only heightened his tension. He had no idea how the king could stand to live in this oppressive atmosphere.

The scratching sound of an opening door alerted Håkon to the fact that he was no longer alone. He straightened and claspedhis hands behind his back, feigning a confidence he didn’t feel. As old as his father may be, he was still the most dangerous man Håkon knew, sly as a fox and as deadly as a bear. But the light footsteps approaching him weren’t Bergelmir’s.

“Håkon!”

Anya came running toward him, throwing herself into his arms. With a surprised laugh, Håkon lifted her up and spun her around in a swirl of bright blue robes and reddish-blonde curls, as he used to do when she’d been only a little girl. He set her back on her feet, but Anya pulled him into a crushing embrace as he tried to put some distance between them. Although she was still as willowy as he remembered her, she had grown quite a bit since they last saw each other. They were almost of the same height now, and Anya’s hair was braided in the fashion of an unmarried noblewoman. The realization that she would soon be old enough to be married off to the most powerful suitor hit him like a punch in the gut.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on Maiden’s Island?”

“It’s good to see you too, brother,” Anya chuckled.

The fact she still called him brother warmed Håkon’s heart. But his joy at seeing her again was clouded by concern. Why had their father ordered them both here? Håkon wasn’t worried about his own safety, but he couldn’t bear to see his little sister getting caught up in their father’s machinations.

“Has the king ordered you here?” Håkon asked. If Bergelmir had summoned them both, they might only have a few precious minutes to figure out what he wanted and come up with a strategy.

“Yes,Fatherinsisted on my presence.” Anya scoffed. “As if I need to be told twice if I have a chance to leave this blasted island.”

That wasn’t good. At this point, Håkon would’ve preferred if she’d run away from the priestesses. Bergelmir was a harsh man, but an apology was always an option, and coming from his only daughter, he might actually accept it.

The steps of warriors echoed through the corridor. Bergelmir and his guards. Håkon leaned down to whisper into Anya’s ear.

“If this discussion is about marriage, do not defy him. Agree with his plans, and we can find a solution later.”

“What?”

Stepping away, Håkon offered her a grin.