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Four winters after the Battle of Saeborg -

Riding out on patrol in the early days of spring was the best time of the year. Hakon traveled with Gudrun and two other warriors, who were young enough not to question Hakon’s authority. Their goal was simple. They were to make sure that Jotunheim’s farmsteads were well tended to, and the Jotnar unthreatened by raiders from their own world or the others beyond. And after having spent months trapped in his father’s great hall, choking on the suppressing atmosphere of court, Hakon finally felt like he could breathe again.

On a pale morning, Hakon had left the young warriors behind to ride higher into the mountains. The treeless slopes leading up to the snow-covered peaks were shrouded in mist.

“Bergelmir will be furious if he ever finds out about our little detour,” Gudrun said, her lighthearted grin at odds with her words.

“You should’ve stayed with the warriors.”

“I’ve seen the tracks of wolves. Maybe we can even find a bear in its den. Why don’t we bring Bergelmir a splendid pelt and tell him we went out hunting?”

Hakon chuckled. “They should call you Gudrun the Cunning.”

“ Pah ! You should listen to me more often. It’s time you learnt the art of deception outside of the battlefield.”

“I fear that’s a hopeless endeavor. You know I’m neither a skald nor a good chieftain.”

Gudrun shook her head unhappily. “Don’t let him convince you of that! Bergelmir doesn’t know you. And he doesn’t hold the strings to your fate.”

Hakon had no idea what to say to that. Gudrun had fought beside his father in their youth; the only shieldmaiden Bergelmir had tolerated in his lie , his band of warriors. She was one of the few people allowed to talk back to the king. And she knew how to handle him, could even make him laugh on occasion. But sometimes Gudrun’s words bordered on treason.

“Don’t let anyone hear you talking like that. ”The thought that Bergelmir might lose his patience with her someday scared Hakon. Bergelmir’s sudden swings of mood were notorious, and Hakon had the feeling that the more time Gudrun spent with him—Bergelmir’s unfavored bastard son—the more she fell out of his father’s favor.

“Don’t worry. Nobody takes the ramblings of an old woman seriously.”

Hakon hoped she was right. He couldn’t bear it if something happened to her just because Hakon couldn’t resist the temptation to visit this place from his past.

As they rode higher into the mountains, the haze was broken by the sunlight. Soon the meadows around them came into view, covered with small, purple flowers. The tiny blossoms glowed like jewels. Around midday, they reached a weathered plateau, allowing a breathtaking view of the fjord deep below. But Hakon only had eyes for the burnt remains of the hall that once towered over the place.

“Thrymheim,” Gudrun breathed. “It was a sight to behold back in the day. Its timbers had been washed white, and they shone like bones in the sun.”

“It’s a majestic sight, even in ruins,” Hakon mumbled.

The remains of the once proud hall lay cold and deserted in front of them. Once home of another chieftain with a claim on Jotunheim’s throne: the mighty Thrym. The songs about his valor were forgotten now, tales from a time before Bergelmir had him burnt along with his entire clan in his own homestead.

Hakon’s mother had been among them. A pretty thrall who must’ve caught Bergelmir’s eye during one of his visits to his rival’s dwelling. Hakon had no idea why he’d survived the inferno, but he knew that his mother hadn’t been important enough for Bergelmir to save her.

“They must’ve been so scared,” Hakon choked as he imagined the hall being engulfed in flames. So many people had been trapped inside, women and children, along with the warriors.

“I heard someone chanting verses among the flames that day.” Gudrun’s gaze grew distant, as if she was seeing a place far away. “But if they’d been still alive or already dead while singing them, I couldn’t say. I didn’t know to what lengths Bergelmir was willing to go to achieve his ambitions until then. Thrym was his ally once. A friend even. Maybe he would’ve been a better king.”

“What was he like?” Upon pain of death, it was forbidden to talk about Thrym, but it was only him and Gudrun, and Hakon couldn’t help but ask.

“He was fair-haired and tall. An oak of a man, and popular with the maidens as well as with the warriors.”

“What?”

Gudrun snickered. “Actually, he looked a lot like you.”

“Very funny.”

“It’s true. He made the ?sir think twice about raiding in Jotunheim, and the skalds sung his praise in every hall and every farmstead.”

“He sounds like a hero of old.”

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

Hakon 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 Hakon 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 Hakon as always.

Unbidden, his thoughts wandered to the Vanir chieftain 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 the ting ? It seemed so unlikely, yet deep down it rang true.

If Hakon had grown up here in Thrymheim instead of Bergelmir’s court, would the Vanir have visited? Would there have been a chance to meet the young warrior under Thrymheim’s roof not as an enemy, but as an ally? Hakon could imagine that. How the boy would have ridden up to the mighty hall with a broad smile on his face and an entourage of volur and warriors in tow. How he would have looked out for Hakon in the gathered crowd and waved to him enthusiastically as soon as he spotted him. A deep sense of longing came over Hakon, 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, Hakon 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, Hakon knew that the Vanir chieftain 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 Hakon 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, Hakon 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 Hakon to the fact that he was no longer alone. He straightened and clasped his 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 Hakon knew, sly as a fox and as deadly as a bear. But the light footsteps approaching him weren’t Bergelmir’s.

“Hakon!”

Anya came running toward him, throwing herself into his arms. With a surprised laugh, Hakon 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 Hakon’s heart. But his joy at seeing her again was clouded by concern. Why had their father ordered them both here? Hakon 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?” Hakon 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, Father insisted 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, Hakon 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. Hakon 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, Hakon offered her a grin.

“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 Ting 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,” Hakon 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 Hakon’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.

Hakon 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?” Hakon asked before Anya could come up with a furious retort.

Bergelmir’s uncanny gaze turned to him. How Hakon 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.” Hakon 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.”

Hakon’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 the Vanir years ago to join our people in the fight against the ?sir . You are promised to Prince Rune of Vanaheim.”

Cold dread settled in Hakon’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.”

Hakon 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. The Vanir aren’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.”

“An heir ?” Anya repeated incredulously, her voice rising as if she had never thought of the possibility.

She probably hadn’t either, Hakon realized in horror. He felt sick. How could their father even consider bartering her away to the enemy like a broodmare? She was still so young, he couldn’t leave her to this fate.

“There’s another option,” Hakon blurted.

“I have no intention of discussing politics with a fool who wasn’t able to take the city when he had a whole army at his disposal,” Bergelmir snarled.

“But we don’t have to conquer the city,” Hakon said quickly. “Think about it! The Queen is gone, and whether the man ruling the Vanir is Prince Rune or not, he’s the only one of their dynasty left. If he dies, if we cut off the serpent’s head, Vanaheim will fall.”

Bergelmir looked like he’d dismiss his idea, but then his features twisted into a shrewd grin.

“Are you proposing Princess Anya should kill her husband?”

Hel, no.

“Not Princess Anya, but someone disguised as her. Someone who could make sure the Prince Regent dies.”

Anya’s mouth dropped open in shock, and she shook her head, clearly catching on to his plan before their father did.

“Even if I were to consider such a plan,” Bergelmir said dismissively, “who would be willing to undertake such a suicidal endeavor?”

“Me,” Hakon said. “I’ll kill the Prince Regent, and the throne of the second realm will be yours.”

“No, Hakon, this is madness,” Anya blurted. “Even if you kill this sorcerer, there’ll be no way to escape.”

Bergelmir nodded thoughtfully. “Well, a fair chance and a heroic deed worthy of a skald’s song. I’m inclined to allow it.”

“It’s too risky, Father!” Anya cried. “Can’t you see that Hakon will die there? Don’t you care? Let me marry Prince Rune and win the throne for you!”

Hakon almost laughed at her words. Anya was too young to understand that they were only pawns in their father’s schemes. And the life of a bastard son didn’t matter, anyway.

Bergelmir made a dismissive gesture.

“No. If he fails, you might still have to marry the Prince. This way, we have the option to forge other alliances.”

“But, Father—”

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Hakon cut her objections short before she could get herself into serious trouble.

“Very well, my king,” Hakon said. If he could take a few Vanr sorcerers with him to the Halls of the Dead and at the same time ensure Anya’s happiness and safety—at least for the moment—then so be it. There were worse fates than a hero’s death.

“Everything is prepared,” Bergelmir stated. “You’ll sail out as soon as the solar winds are favorable.”

Nodding, Hakon pulled Anya backwards by her sleeve. The king had already turned to the letters waiting for him on his desk. Hakon knew they were dismissed, and this way he could hope that his sister wouldn’t incur the king’s wrath by saying something untoward.

“And Anya—” They’d almost made it out of the door when Bergelmir spoke up again. “You’re to return to Maiden’s Island immediately. I don’t want to hear any complaints from the priestesses again. Otherwise, I’ll assign your servant girl to someone else. You know, the one you call friend.”

“As you wish, Father .” Anya seethed, her eyes shining with such hatred that Hakon feared she might try to strangle the king with her bare hands.

Out in the corridor, he hastily led Anya away from the guards now standing by the doors. As soon as they were out of Bergelmir’s sight, Hakon felt like he could breathe a little easier.

“What have you done?” Anya choked when they were alone. Her eyes were suddenly filled with tears.

“There was no other choice.” He gently took Anya’s hands, needing her to understand. “I’ll have a chance to flee after I kill Prince Rune. But no one can survive as an unwanted wife at an enemy court.”

“You have met the Prince during the siege of Saeborg, haven’t you? Maybe if we talked to him—”

Hakon shook his head. He wasn’t even sure who the sorcerer had been who had regrouped the Vanir forces and thereby single-handedly turned the tides of the battle. Unbidden images of green eyes and a sly grin flood his memory. The Vanr had been too young to be Prince Rune, a warrior just above the age of boyhood. But Hakon had thought about him often after this day, finding himself admiring the strength of a single man, realigning the strings of fate for his whole people. If only Hakon had found the courage to disentangle the knots of his own fate when he’d been younger. But he’d chosen the path of loyalty to his kingdom and kin. That couldn’t be helped now.

“I don’t believe the real Prince Rune is still alive. But don’t worry. I’m not planning to die by the hands of a Vanr .”

Sobbing, Anya hugged him close. They both knew that despite his proud words, he’d most likely not return.