Chapter Three
Freya
I was furious.
Unwaveringly, ferociously, furious.
How else could it be when Soren had so easily given in to my father’s ridiculous wishes that I hand over my prized weapons and vow to do nothing but bear my husband strong sons upon our marriage?
In retrospect, I couldn’t help but wonder if Soren ever truly intended to counter my father in the end, however much he might have initially seemed opposed.
Now here I was in the great lodge, having had no choice but to dress as my father wished under my sister’s close supervision, getting ready to do as he asked.
No small task, but again, what choice did I have as my father, Knud, and Tove stood close, daring me to do otherwise?
Not just that, but my talisman warmed again, telling me I was on the right path.
So, however much I disliked it, I approached Soren, blade and shield in hand, and stopped before him.
Though I tried to keep the compliant, submissive expression my father longed to see, it was impossible as I met Soren’s eyes.
Instead, he saw only what I would offer my opponent in battle while handing over my weapons, dutifully saying all the words my father wanted to hear.
This time, however, Soren didn’t reject my offerings but willingly accepted them, seeming to tear away all that made me who I was in one fell swoop.
“’Tis a most humble gesture, Freya Helvig,” he rumbled, saying words he need not say. “I will cherish these always.” His voice rose so that all could hear. “Might we someday share them not just with strong sons, but strong daughters born of wolf and bear alike?”
Even though my father grumbled something under his breath about leaving daughters out of this, Soren’s words earned another roar of approval from the crowd.
After that, Bj?rn insisted that everyone enjoy the fine fare of seasoned herring, succulent meats, seasoned vegetables, and freshly baked bread with warm honey as we sat at the head table with Tove and Knud on one side of Father and me and Soren on the other.
As it had been since meeting Soren, and despite my dislike of his relenting to my father, I remained overly aware of him by my side. Far too aware of his sheer size and masculine scent. A warm, delicious, heady combination of spice and pine that made it hard to focus on any other aroma.
Yet, I needed to after the day’s events, so I tried my best to focus elsewhere. While a part of me understood that my father would never budge on his request, I had hoped Soren truly meant what he had said. That he would find some clever way to get through to Bj?rn.
“’Tis fine fair,” Soren complimented my father. He looked from my plate to me, as blunt now as he had been earlier when wondering if we were still friends. “Are you so angry with me that you won’t enjoy your food? If I recall correctly, you once loved this type of fish.”
He was right. I did. And it irked me that he remembered because it again spoke to his apparent affection for me when we were younger.
Indeed, most women would be flattered or at least think more favorably about the union, but I wasn’t most women.
I was a shield-maiden forced into a marriage where my worth would lie solely in my breeding abilities rather than my battle skills.
“I believe you also favored sweets above all others,” he went on, seemingly unfazed by my cold reception. A small smile curled his mouth. “To the point, you refused to allow me to have any after we snuck some from the kitchens one afternoon.”
A good memory to be sure, and enough to invoke a response because he wasn’t recalling it correctly.
“I tried to give you some, but you refused,” I reminded. “So, I gave your share to pigs.”
“And why did I refuse?” he prompted, amusement still twinkling in his eyes. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Surely you remember, Freya.”
My breath caught at his proximity, and I struggled to speak for a moment before finally finding my tongue, remaining vague because I did recall. “As I said, you decided against your share, so I gave it to the pigs.”
“You lie,” he said softly, close enough that I felt his warm breath fan across my cheek. He assessed me in a way that made my heart beat a little harder. Almost as if he could see inside me, but of course, he could not. If anything, he excelled at observing others despite my guarded expression.
“I gave you my share because I knew you favored it and wanted you to enjoy it,” he continued. “I would have given you anything when we were children, just as I intend to once you become my wife.”
“Then give me back my shield and dagger,” I countered, making the mistake of turning my head and looking into his eyes while so close.
I meant to say more but struggled to find the words.
Or the very thoughts that led to the words.
Instead, I felt trapped in his piercing, stormy, blue-gray gaze.
Held captive in a way that made thinking impossible.
“No,” he murmured, seeming just as caught in my eyes. “But I’ll give you any other shield and dagger you like because I won’t have you defenseless.” He shook his head. “Not ever.”
Although tempted to rebuke him again because I was frustrated, I was also not blind to how genuine he seemed, nor that he could refuse me weaponry once we wed if he so chose.
In days of old, women had more say, but times were changing, and with the spread of the new religion and a reduced need for women to fight, Norsemen, like most men, were slowly gaining more power over their female counterparts.
“Then I would have you give me weaponry the moment we set sail on the morrow,” I said, testing him.
“The moment we are out of your father’s sight,” he vowed, most serious. “You have my word.”
Feeling my talisman warm and seeing the truth in his eyes, I let the matter drop, lest my father overhear.
Rather, I decided this might be a good opportunity to understand what it would be like living among his people.
To prepare myself for a new life away from everything I knew and everyone I loved.
While Soren might consider us friends and hold me in esteem, our childhood seemed a lifetime ago, and my memories of his stronghold were sparse.
In fact, the only time I was there, I fell ill, so I recalled very little.
“Tell me what will be expected of me after we wed,” I said rather than asked, sipping my ale, my tone dry. “Other than bearing you strong sons.”
“And strong daughters,” he reminded, his voice gentle if not rather husky with emotion, almost as if the thought of it truly appealed to him.
“Preferably ones with the same strength and courage of their mother.” He cleared his throat and sipped his ale.
“But hopefully none so beautiful as I know well the thoughts of men.”
The same intense heat from earlier burned beneath my skin when he looked at me with unmistakable appreciation, if not outright desire.
I had seen that look in men’s gazes before, but it never made me feel like this.
Did he have this effect on all women? Apparently, those who had bathed him and attended to his needs were gossiping and blushing over his fine form.
Yet despite their attempts to stimulate him, he made no move to return their affections, whereas many men might have, whether marrying soon or not.
I know because I had dealt with it firsthand years ago, despite not having invited it. Dealt with an attack that made me fear lying with men. None had ever made me feel less fearful and more responsive until Soren.
“So you will teach our daughters to battle?” I managed, praying my cheeks didn’t warm as much as the rest of me, and gave him the wrong idea, even though I suspected it was very much the right idea.
“We will teach our daughters,” he corrected. “As we will teach our sons.” His eyebrows swept up. “For are you not a renowned shield-maiden in your own right, Freya? I might have relented to your father, but I meant what I said on the shore and wish this arrangement could be otherwise.”
“Then why not persist?” I returned, trying my best not to be charmed by him.
He had clearly developed not just physically but in the ways of flirting with the opposite sex.
Frowning, I spoke out of genuine curiosity rather than anger and frustration.
“Why didn’t you fight harder? Why give in to his wishes so easily? ”
“Because this is a truly favorable arrangement for our country,” he replied logically. His voice turned husky again, and his gaze lingered on my face. “And because I would not risk losing you again.”
It seemed he was about to say something else, but after his attention flickered from my father back to me, he thought better of it, and he shook his head.
“It matters not.” Catching me off guard, he lightly fingered a lock of my hair, as if he had been longing to do it for years.
“What matters is I want you now and was willing to do whatever it took to get you.”
I inhaled sharply at the feel of his warm fingers brushing the side of my neck before he pulled away when my father summoned forth our tribe’s bard to sing tales of old.
Stories that spoke of our people and the great polar bear spirit that watched over and fought alongside us.
A means to impress Soren and his men so that they might regale their people with tales of what their chieftain’s new bride brought to the clan.
The great strength I would lend them through our children.
Yet all the while, I remained aware of Soren by my side and hardly heard the tales.
I thought about the things he had said and the way he said them.
The emotion and intensity in his words. I thought about the stories I had heard of his escapades and of the scrawny boy he’d once been.
More so, I reflected on the friend he had once been, because even though I wouldn’t admit it, I did remember our moments together.