Page 83 of Storm of Fury
She broke away, breathing hard.
“Love is a yoke used by men to bind women into the traces they so desire,” she snapped, wrapping her arms around herself. “What did you imagine of me? That I would settle down with you at your farmstead and supply you with great, big, happy babies?” She shot him a glare. “I was born on a battlefield. They put a sword in my hand at the age of nine and told me to earn my birthright, for it would not be given to me. I swore an oath that no man would come between me and my god’s will. I gave up any yearning for a mortal future long ago, Tormund. You speak of a foreign land I cannot imagine, nor want any part of.”
Strangely, it seemed her words had done the opposite of what she desired.
He stared at her, and it was as though he finally understood the words she did not dare give voice to.
“My love,” he finally said, “would never be a chain. My love—when given—would be a gift. It would be my arms around you when you wanted to hide from the world. It would be my axe to guard you when you could not guard yourself. It would be a kiss to your forehead, to remind you that you are cherished.” He shook his head. “I would never stop you from doing what you loved. I would stand at your side and cheer you on, instead. If you wanted to storm Valhalla, then curse you, I’d pick up my axe and march at your side.
“I hunt dragons, Bryn. And while I may have grown up on a farmstead not very far from here, I don’t know if I can ever settle back down there. I’ve seen too much of the world now.”
It took the anger from her sails.
Worse, it painted guilt across her heart.
He was a good man. Too good for her. And all she would ever do was bring him ruin.
“It sounds like a pleasant dream,” she told him. “But one day, if I thought to fall for such a fantasy, I’m sure I’d wake up and realize that’s all it was. A dream. I’m not the woman for you. I can never be the kind of woman you yearn for.”
The door abruptly opened, revealing the drekling servant who had first welcomed them. “The king will see you now.”
Bryn hardened her heart.
“Love means nothing,” she told him in a broken whisper, seeing again that sword rise as her sister, Róta, appeared behind her mother’s back. “You could promise me your heart a thousand times and have it fall on deaf ears.” She pushed away from him and headed toward the door. “Give your love to someone else. I have no need of it.”
* * *
“What took you so long?”Haakon asked him tersely as Tormund slid into the hollow of snow at his side. Below them, the cave where Marduk was being kept yawned.
Nothing stirred.
“The king questioned me for several hours. They don’t call him Harald the Shrewd for no reason. He wants an audience with us tomorrow. I think we’re going to have to speak against Solveig.” Tormund scrubbed a tired hand over his face. “No movement?”
“Solveig hasn’t been back, and her guards remain vigilant.” Haakon’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure that’s the reason you were gone for so long?”
Sometimes, having a cousin who could see through you was like wearing a burr under your armor. “No. I spent most of the day wooing Bryn, and then we fell into bed together and composed several sonnets. We’re getting married in a month.”
Silence.
“I haven’t seen you so interested in a woman before.” Haakon returned his attention to the guards below them. “Why her?”
“Because she steals my breath every time I look at her,” he replied simply, then rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars. “Why Árdís?”
This time, he could feel his cousin’s eyes upon him. “Because she is loyal. And kind. And both frivolous and protective. She is furious when those she loves are threatened. She is stubborn. And frustrating. And absolutely fucking magnificent when roused.”
“I’m fairly certain those weren’t the names you called her when you realized she’d feigned her death.”
Haakon sat up. “Because when I am with her, the entire world ceases to exist. She is mine and I am hers until the day we depart this mortal coil. Because when I watched her spread her wings after so long beneath her mother’s wretchedly cruel yoke, I felt my heart lift. Because of the way she smiles when I put a hand on her belly and promise to gift her a child.”
“Mmm.” Tormund could just make out the Draco constellation glittering to the north. “I remember the first time you saw her. You could barely take your eyes off her. I used to jest that she’d cast a spell upon you, but then I saw the way she looked at you too. If there was a spell, then you were both ensorcelled.” The following words felt trapped in his mouth. “I’ve wanted that my whole life, and the only time I’ve ever felt even the remotest hint of it was when Bryn strode into my life and looked me dead in the eye. But it didn’t feel as though I was bespelled. It felt as though she kicked me in the chest. It felt as though she stole my breath. It felt as though she slayed me with a single look, and somehow my body is still moving, talking, but it is no longer mine to command, but hers.”
“But does she feel the same?”
“No.” The word was soft. “She doesn’t want my love.”
She’d made herself clear today.
“She betrayed us,” Haakon pointed out. “Perhaps it’s for the best.”
