Page 10

He woke slowly, surrounded by warmth and the softness of silken sheets. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, Hakon turned around and blinked into the soft sunlight of early summer.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Suddenly wide awake, Hakon sat up. Sheets pooling around his waist, Hakon realized he was naked underneath them. Heat rose to his face. As a warrior, he was proud of his body, and usually not ashamed to show it, but his state of undress brought with it the memories of last night. The way his body had eagerly submitted to Talvinen’s touches, how he’d moaned in pleasure.

He found Talvinen lounging in a high wooden chair that was covered with furs. He was holding a book in his hands, but Hakon had a feeling he’d done something other than reading.

“Did you watch me sleep?”

The idea was weirdly satisfying.

“In my defense, I tried to concentrate on my book. But it’s hard when you have the most beautiful man in the Nine Worlds sleeping in your bed.”

Hakon failed to suppress a genuine laugh.

“You should’ve become a skald. Kings and queens would thirst for your words of flattery.”

“A tempting occupation, but I fear I couldn’t stomach the insincerity. With you, it’s easy. You’re like a sunny day in the deepest winter, Hakon Bloodaxe. Magnificent. Beautiful and deadly. The best warrior I’ve ever seen. Even as a little boy, when I didn’t understand what love or longing was, I saw you at the ting and I knew you were the only person for me. The only spouse worth wooing. Do you remember when I proposed to you? That last ting the Vanir and the Jotnar held together.”

“That was you?” Hakon blurted. He remembered the day vividly. Brogar’s defeat. The strange boy who’d talked to him right after the duel. Gudrun’s amusement. And the ring. Hakon still owned it.

Talvinen shrugged. “I drove my mothers crazy with my obsession with you. There was no other topic for me. I studied the way of the sword and the intricacies of seier more eagerly than my poor brother, just so I could impress you when I’d grown up. And one day, my uncle took pity on me, and allowed me to visit the ting with him.”

“Njord, the Lord of Nóatún. I remember him, although he didn’t enter the tournaments.”

“Yes. Uncle doesn’t fancy drawing his blade if it isn’t to kill.”

Now that they were talking about it, the family resemblance was striking. Talvinen and his infamous uncle shared the same sharp features and dark hair, although Hakon remembered the Lord of Nóatún with longer hair adorned with a few strands of gray. Bergelmir had called Njord a coward for refusing to compete at the tournament, but for all Hakon knew, he had been a great warrior.

“May he dine in the halls of Hel ,” Hakon said quietly. He could only imagine how Talvinen was coping with most of his family gone. On the other hand, he’d spoken as if his uncle was still alive. Could it be?

Talvinen’s gaze grew distant for a moment. Hel . Hakon shouldn’t have breached the topic. Then Talvinen got up and smiled.

“I just ordered someone to bring your breakfast.” Sitting down on the bed next to him, Talvinen gently tucked a strand of hair behind Hakon’s ear. “And don’t worry, my uncle is still alive.”

Heart beating faster, Hakon leaned into Talvinen’s warmth. This was exactly the kind of information Bergelmir would be interested in. What happened to the Queens Vellamo and Ahti? Where were Njord and Prince Rune? Were they all dead or did something else happen? Hakon would’ve preferred to fight a duel over this game of spying at any time. He wasn’t equipped to spin smooth lies and gather information without anyone noticing.

“I heard that he and his dragon fell fighting the ?sir ,” Hakon said. His throat was suddenly dry, and the words sounded croaking to his own ears. What was he doing?

Talvinen hummed, a look of sadness crossing his features.

“Her name was Jokull, a great serpent of the sea. They took on a raiding party of the ?sir in the summer before you came to attack Saeborg. Jokull laid waste to a hundred of their ships before she plunged from the sky. Uncle survived. The skalds sing of their deeds in all the halls of Vanaheim.”

How was Hakon to tell if this was the truth? Talvinen sounded genuine enough, but he could be making this whole story up just as well. Maybe he was even making fun of Hakon’s ignorance.

“The songs about his deeds haven’t yet reached Jotunheim,” Hakon replied, unable to keep a hint of anger out of his voice. This conversation reminded him far too much of his position at his father’s court. There were no family ties he could draw on, and no one interested in sharing their valuable knowledge with him. In the vital currency of information, Hakon had never had anything to trade with, and his peers had made him feel that—sometimes even equating his lack of access to exclusive knowledge with stupidity. Hakon had always had to rely on his skills as a warrior to keep himself alive.

“Bergelmir only wants his own praise sung, huh?” Talvinen said, surprising Hakon with the gentleness his words were spoken with.

“As it is the king’s privilege.”

“If you ask me, it is a weak king if he can’t honor those who fight for him.”

Hakon didn’t have an answer for that. He was saved from having to reply by the door bursting open and Gudrun rushing inside with a tray of food. She wore practical breeches and a gray tunic, nothing fit for a noblewoman but way too good for a thrall either. But the most important thing was that she seemed unharmed, with no bruises showing on her face and her movements unhindered. Hakon sighed in relief.

“Your breakfast,” Talvinen said and jumped to his feet. “Take your time. I have duties to attend to. You can accompany me next time if the inspection of ships and the storage of grain piques your interest.”

“Y–Yes,”Hakon stuttered. Surely Talvinen wasn’t really offering him to see anything of importance. Perhaps his true intention was rather to display Hakon like the spoils of a spring raid.

“It would be my pleasure to show you your realm,” Talvinen said without a hint of sarcasm.

His realm. Hakon suppressed a burst of laughter. The boy was an excellent liar, better suited to rule than Hakon.

Walking over to him, Talvinen leaned down, their faces only inches apart.

“May I?”

Hakon nodded, a strange giddiness bubbling in his chest. The peck to his lips was featherlight and chaste, and yet it stole Hakon’s breath away.

“Keep my husband company for a while, will you, Gudrun?” Talvinen asked, leaving.

“As you wish, my lord.”

Silence filled the royal chambers after Talvinen had closed the door behind his back. Gudrun just stared at him. She recovered after a few breaths, setting the tray down carelessly and rushing over to crush Hakon in a hug.

“Freyja’s tits, are you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Gudrun was already pulling down the sheet Hakon had wrapped around his chest to inspect him for injuries.

“Gudrun!”

“What? I’m not taking your word for it. I have to see for myself that you’re well.”

Batting her hands away, Hakon stood up to go looking for his clothes even if he didn’t fancy putting the wedding gown back on. It was nowhere to be seen, anyway. Had Talvinen tidied up after him?

Menace that she was, Gudrun just watched him stumbling around naked, searching in vain for something to wear.

“You look all right,” she concluded finally. “Well fucked, even.”

Hakon glared at her. It did nothing to dissuade her.

“He had the servants prepare a bath for you. It’s next door.” She gestured lazily toward another set of doors, leading further into the labyrinth that were the royal chambers. How did the Vanir find their way around this stone maze?

Stomping over to the adjoining room, Hakon’s annoyance was replaced by wonder as he entered the bathing house again. The stone fortresses of the Vanir were spectacular. But Hakon had never seen anything as luxurious as this bath: built high in a tower, the colorfully tiled pool could easily accommodate a dozen men, and the water was steaming warm without having to use a hot spring.

Gudrun followed him with the food. “Your Vanr is certainly not stingy with his affection.”

“He’s not mine,” Hakon answered petulantly.

Splashing into the pool, he tried to gather his thoughts. He was so relieved Gudrun was alive and well, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about her seeing him like this. It made him flustered and, at the same time, weirdly… proud. Look, this is my husband. Can you see? He adores me. He desires me. He treats me like a king.

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.”

Hakon 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 Hakon’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?”

Hakon 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 your lie .”

Relief made Hakon 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, Hakon, 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,” Hakon 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, Hakon 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 Hakon’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 Hakon 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.

“I don’t know.” Gudrun’s pick was practical enough, but they were certainly fit for a king. Hakon wasn’t sure if he’d feel comfortable wearing them.

“The color of the raven suits you. And your husband wouldn’t have sent the clothes if he didn’t want you to wear them.”

“Unless it’s a test.”

Blinking as if she hadn’t thought of it this way before, Gudrun started going through the chest again.

“It’s not. These are all equal quality. Expensive. Bergelmir knows why he wants to plunder this place.”

Hakon sighed.

“Well, then. Is there a belt?”

“Only a belt with a scabbard. Look at this!”

Gudrun had drawn the sword, and Isbani shone in the sunlight. Hakon hadn’t been able to look at it properly yesterday, but now he admired the beauty of the weapon. A master smith had decorated the blade with runes and an elaborate pattern of golden inlays, the twisted coils of folded steel like snakes winding in the iron.

“What a treasure. We aren’t allowed to take this, I guess.” Gudrun set the blade down with a mournful expression.

“It’s mine.”

“What?”

“It’s my wedding gift. And Talvinen left it here. So I figure he won’t be cross if I wear it.”

Eyes lighting up with excitement, Gudrun grinned at him.

“Let’s go find your husband, then.”