Page 41 of A Curse Carved in Bone
“What are you doing?” I got my answer a heartbeat later when he set me down, arse first, into the snow.
I shrieked as the cold pressed against my overheated core and tried to get to my feet, but he held me down.
“I love you, Freya.” His knees were on either side of my body, the cold not seeming to touch him. “And there is little I want more than to fuck you until you forget everything but my name. But not like this. Not while you’re so angry it turns your eyes to flame.”
“My anger is a part of me!” I shouted. “You can’t love only half of me, Bjorn, because that means you don’t love me at all!”
“I love the whole of you!” he shouted back. “Even when you are as mean as a feral cat and say things that break my heart, I still love you! But no matter what my mother has convinced you of, you don’t want this right now. So neither doI.”
He let go of me and climbed to his feet.
The truth of his words rushed through me, but it only caused me to snarl, “You brought me here because you thought the truth would erase the damage and that I’d forgive you. You got what you wanted, because it has become clear to me that my anger isn’t just. Yet when I try to give you my forgiveness, you throw it in my face!”
“I brought you here because you wanted to learn the truth about yourself, not because I thought it would change the way you feel. And right now, it feels like a mistake bringing you here at all.” He gave a sharp shake of his head, nothing more than a shadow in the night. “As for your forgiveness, Freya, you haven’t given it because I don’t deserve it. The only way I will ever have it is by earning it.”
Without another word, he strode through the snow and back into the sauna, slamming the door behind him.
I gave up on sleep as dawn painted the eastern sky, and silently rose to my feet. Freya was curled in a ball beneath a blanket, just as she’d been when I’d come back hours ago. It was the heavy sleep of too much to drink that never contributed to rest, and she’d pay for it when she woke. Yet I was careful not to disturb her as I crossed to where my mother slept, easing aside the curtain and poking her in the shoulder.
One green eye opened and gave me a dark glare.
“Get up,” I muttered. “We need to have words.”
She sighed but then dragged herself out of the furs and wrapped a heavy cloak around herself before putting on her worn shoes. I held open the door until she was outside, then shut it firmly. Skoll and Hati sat in the snow, and I said to them, “Watch over her.”
Not that Freya was likely to wake for several more hours.
The early light filtered through the frost-laced branches of the trees and a thin layer of snow crunched beneath our feet as we walked. This high in the mountains, it already smelled of coming winter, and it would not be long until the lush vegetation turned brown under theonslaught of bitter winds. I said nothing until we were far enough away from the cabin that Freya wouldn’t be woken by what would be a heated conversation. “What the fuck did you say to her, Mother?”
She crossed her arms and glared up at me. “Mind your tongue, boy. I’ll not tolerate such language from one whose arse I wiped as a babe.”
I cast my eyes skyward, beseeching the gods to grant me patience.
Yet rather than continuing to berate me for my language, my mother’s voice turned cold and serious. “The stakes are high, Bjorn. Once Snorri determines that Freya is in Nordeland, he will stop at nothing to get her back. You know this, for he once did the same for you. The cost was great and many people died, but when he comes for Freya, it will be far worse.”
I exhaled. “I know.”
“Are you aware that she is bound by a blood oath to Snorri?” she asked. “To secrecy as well, although I was able to discern much.”
“I’m aware, though it was only last night she told me the entirety of what she swore.” When she glared at me askance, I repeated Freya’s oath, “ ‘I vow allegiance to him who is of this blood. I vow to protect, at all cost, him who is of this blood. I vow to speak no word of this bargain except to him who is of this blood.’ ”
My mother’s jaw tightened. “Better and worse than I thought. I only suspected the allegiance and the silence. Ylva is as thorough as always, though. She knows even a leashed hound can turn on its master.”
“She can’t harm him.” Memory abruptly filled my head of those final moments we spent in Grindill. How Freya clearly wished harm upon Snorri but had not acted, and he’d laughed at her and said,You swore your own oaths, Freya, so it seems both my fate and life are safe from you.
Why hadn’t I killed him when I’d had a chance? Challenged him. Put a knife in his back. Cut his throat when he was sleeping. Why had I done none of those things? Why had I been so obsessed with keeping my promise to my mother? “How is it better than you thought?”
“I know little of blood oaths.” My mother’s expression was grim.“But allegiance and protection…They are both words open to interpretation. How Freya is bound by them is determined by what she felt the words meant when she swore them. The magic may have been Ylva’s, but the limits of the oath were determined by Freya herself.”
“She probably doesn’t remember,” I said, hating how fear had driven Freya to such a desperate bargain. “She was desperate.”
“Yet another reason to hate the creature who sired you,” my mother growled, then gave her head a sharp shake. “Even so, we can glean her limitations by her actions. Allegiance does not demand she remain at Snorri’s side, nor does it seem to command her loyalty.” Her eyes grew distant and thoughtful. “She was raised to believe that allegiance to one’s jarl meant obeying a call to arms and fighting on his behalf.”
“So she’s obligated to fight for him if he can call her to arms.”
“A call which he’d have to communicate to her in some fashion, and we can prevent that.” My mother gave a nod of approval. “As to protection…”
“It does not extend to protecting his feelings,” I muttered. “Of that, I can attest.”
