Page 9 of The Magic of Vanaheim

“A lot can happen to an unwanted suitor before the vows are spoken. Warriors die every day on the battlefield or find an unfortunate end during the Þing Tournament.”

Anya blinked before a slow smile spread over her features.

“Aye. The Valkyries may take their pick at any time.”

The large doors to the king’s chambers flew open, and they both turned to watch Bergelmir enter.

“My king,” Håkon greeted.

“Father,” said Anya.

Walking past them to sit in his seat, Bergelmir ignored them both. Though his shoulders were beginning to round with age, he was still imposing. Regarding them with a disapproving glare, Bergelmir’s eyes glittered like icy slivers beneath his white brows. Well-known dread settled in Håkon’s gut, for he knew that even if he had been the better fighter for years, he would never win against Bergelmir. All he could hope for was to prevent harm to those close to him. Anya. Gudrun.

“The priestesses weren’t happy with you,” Bergelmir said, glaring at Anya.

Håkon admired the way his sister simply shrugged at the accusation.

“The spinsters are dissatisfied with everything.”

Bergelmir snarled. “You haven’t learned respect yet. But you will.”

“Why did you summon us, my king?” Håkon asked before Anya could come up with a furious retort.

Bergelmir’s uncanny gaze turned to him. How Håkon hated to be the focus of his calculating stare, and still it was better than being ignored.

“Impatience doesn’t become a warrior.” Bergelmir shook his head as if disappointed.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Håkon waited for a heartbeat, ignoring the condescending smile playing on his father’s lips. “Still, I have to oversee the warrior’s training in a short while. A warrior mustn’t be late.”

“No. You’re relieved of that duty.”

Håkon’s muscles tensed, ready to fight.

What in the name of the gods?

“My king?”

“You’ll ensure that Princess Anya reaches her betrothed safely.”

“My what?” Anya hissed.

“I made a bargain with theVaniryears ago to join our people in the fight against theÆsir. You are promised to Prince Rune of Vanaheim.”

Cold dread settled in Håkon’s gut. “You can’t send her there. Not after we attacked them.”

“If you had taken Saeborg as you were supposed to do, all of this wouldn’t be necessary. It’s your failure that brought us into this situation.”

Håkon didn’t bother to argue that it wasn’t him who led the raid, but Brogar. Their father wouldn’t care either way.

“We aren’t even sure who rules over Vanaheim. The Queen hasn’t been seen in years, and the man who calls himself Prince Regent could be anyone. For all we know, Prince Rune is dead.”

Chuckling, Bergelmir turned to Anya.

“Remember that your allegiances lie with us. TheVaniraren’t true warriors; they resort to deception and sorcery, but they aren’t without power. You won’t question the Prince Regent openly, but you’ll find out who he is.”

“But—” Anya stammered.

“Did the priestesses teach you nothing? This is the duty of a princess! Once you have produced an heir, we’ll have a claim to the throne of Vanaheim.”