Chapter 8 #2
“Not a thrall,” Njáll said, forcing the deference into his voice. “She possesses what the Volva spoke of.”
Silently, the Konungr gestured for him to go on. Njáll stole a wayward glance at his girl, emboldened by her calm demeanor. The unearthly quiet in the hall as he explained the story to the Konungr made the hairs on his arms stand on end.
He recalled the last village they had searched. The girl who flung herself between his blade and her father, all to protect him.
With each word he spoke, a wider smile split across the Dróttning’s face, offering him a flicker of hope. Even as the Konungr appeared to remain frustratingly unaffected.
Even if it were his duty.
Then, Njáll’s voice dropped, not wanting all assembled to hear the next words, as they were for the Konungr alone.
“She is chosen by Freyja. As you are chosen by Odin. A foreign witch. I believe her the one our Volva foretold.”
If it weren’t for the imperceptible widening of his eyes, Njáll would have thought the Konungr hadn’t heard him. A stillness swept across the rigid lines of his face. The glow in his moonlit eyes sharpened, pinning Njáll in place.
“Defend your claim,” came the deep rumble of his command.
“A smoky panther with gold eyes guards her. Similar to a fylgja, but more. A gift from Freyja. She does not know of the old gods, but she carries the light of Freyja with her. She knows of the draugar, they call to her from the shadows.”
Nails scraped through his beard as the Konungr listened, his brows raising slightly as Njáll continued.
“Something binds me to her side. At first I thought it seier. Now, I am not certain. It may be Freyja guiding us, just as she brought you your Dróttning.”
The words fell from his lips before he could process them. Njáll froze, his brow pinched. No. Not Freyja. A spell. Nothing more. His eyes flicked to the side, and his heart beat faster at the sight of his flame.
Then he saw it, the minute his claim landed with the Konungr.
If nothing else would sway him, recalling the stories of how Freyja guided his steps to his queen might. Njáll always thought those tales were embellished. It was hard to deny the truth in it when some ancient ether drew him to his little flame. Something he tried so hard to dismiss.
He worried the Konungr might see her as a threat. While she didn’t want him, his vow to protect her still held firm. Njáll was duty-bound to keep her safe, whether she wanted him to or not.
“Your passion is noted. We will speak more on this.” The tension melted from his muscles. “In the coming days we will celebrate our Jarl’s victory with a feast.”
The assembled guests broke out in excitement, thrilled with the impending celebrations. A rare smile graced the Konungr’s weathered features, his hands raised as he dismissed the clan.
“Warriors. Rest. Return to your families.”
Joyous cheers returned as warriors took their lovers in their arms, exiting the longhouse to return to their furs.
Soon, the packed longhouse thinned until only a few people remained. His girl shifted closer to him, unconsciously seeking him out.
It soothed the weary pieces of his soul.
“Where will she stay? There are no empty homes,” Leif asked, his Konungr mask fading.
“With me.”
A soft laugh fell from the Dróttning.
“Would it not be more prudent to have a bedroll laid out for her in the longhouse?”
A growl rumbled in Njáll’s chest. The Konungr’s brows pinched, and Njáll bowed his head.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, knowing it was not his place.
The Konungr’s gaze found his queen’s, something passing in their unspoken words. His shoulder fell with a sigh.
“Very well. If you wish her to stay with you, so be it.”
“Thank you,” Njáll said, ensuring they were alone. “Father.”
His father’s expression shifted, his eyes softening as if Njáll’s words gave him permission to relax. His mother immediately came into his space, her softness a welcome reprieve.
“We’ve missed you son,” Brielle said, pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek. “Are you well? Is your companion? What is her name?”
Njáll’s mouth lifted. “We are well. In need of a bath and rest. She hasn’t given me her name yet.”
A rolling laugh boomed from his father as he clasped a hand on Njáll’s shoulder.
“Freyja chose well then. Her spirit may complement yours, my son. I’m sure you are both tired. We will speak more in the coming days.”
After offering his father a nod, Njáll pecked his mother’s cheek, leaving his parents alone to no doubt discuss what he’d told them. Njáll reached out to drape an arm around his girl’s waist, thankful when she didn’t pull away.
A small shudder shook her, and he stroked her hip.
“All is well, nothing to fear.”
As they stepped out into the open air of the village, the scent of charred wood met his nostrils, and he sighed.
“Hello, little brother.”
He rolled his eyes. The irony of her calling him little was not lost on him. Astra might have been older, but he towered over her tiny frame.
Astra floated toward them, the image of their father. Moonlight-colored curls waterfalled down her back; slim braids highlighted the pale blush on her freckled cheeks. The raised scar on her face ran over her brow.
While she looked like their father, her wit rivaled their mother’s.
Unfortunately, Astra lacked all of their mother’s restraint.
“She is far too pretty for you, little brother.” He relaxed when she spoke in their tongue. Afraid of what she might say to his girl. “Shall I come with you, so you don’t frighten her?”
“Unnecessary. Nothing terrifies my little flame.”
Bright teeth flashed with the breadth of her smile, her eyes bulging as if she had just found a rare jewel. Njáll regretted the claim the moment it left his mouth. Astra would never let it be now.
His gaze drifted to the girl still tucked close to his side.
“Your?” Astra questioned, looking far too smug.
“Yes. Mine. Now save your games.” She snorted, still grinning like a pleased nymph. “If you wish to help, could you gather some garments for her? All she has is the clothes on her back. She is worthy of much more.”
“Of course she is,” Astra said, fondness seeping into her voice. “I’ll fetch her the finest garments and jewels I can find and have them brought before nightfall tomorrow.”
Their playful banter forgotten, Astra stretched up to kiss his cheek.
“Sleep well, brother. I am happy you have returned home.”
“Thank you. I’m sure Erik has missed you.”
With a giggle, she disappeared into the thicket, heading for the home she shared with Erik at the end of the dirt path.
Now, he stood alone with his girl, not knowing how to make things right with her. Instead, he silently led them toward the hewn wood sitting under a thatched mossy roof.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her exhaustion finally showing in the lethargy of her speech.
“To my home.”
Our home.
But he kept the thought to himself.
For now.