7. Maddy
Chapter 7
Maddy
T o my surprise, as I'm staring out at the now-deserted Battleyard, I actually feel an inclination to run, and find myself annoyed that I can't because I have to go to the Bear Wing to talk to Harald.
"I want to run laps. What in the name of Odin's arse is happening to me?" I murmur as I force my feet in the opposite direction, toward the High Hall.
It takes me more than ten minutes to reach it, and I'm not surprised when Harald and Inga are already there.
I'm also not surprised that they are standing in front of nothing more than a berry bush.
Harald looks hopefully at me, but adopts a resigned expression when I sigh heavily.
Inga refuses to acknowledge my presence at all. I'm assuming she can't see the Bear Wing either, as she's staring at the bush fiercely enough that I worry she'll set it aflame.
"It appears that neither of you will be moving rooms just yet," Harald says. "Can you call your bears?"
Inga finally meets my eye, and I find myself scowling. "You've already met mine," I growl. "I had to stop her eviscerating you when you tried to put an arrow through my eye."
Fire sparks beside Inga, but no bear appears. She's still wearing her torn shirt, but she is one of the few who has no obvious wounds. Her hand is bruised, but that is all.
"That big white oaf is laughable," she spits.
"Laughable? She nearly fucking killed you! I should have let her!"
A flash of fear, that I might get mad enough with this vile fae that I would let Thyrvi do something stupid, douses my rising temper, and I step back.
Harald bangs his breastplate, and we both look at him. "Selma's val-tivar revealed itself today, and unlike you two, she has a working staff and control of her magic. Now, listen to me." His eyes narrow, and somehow his deep voice drops lower, an unquestionable threat in his tone. "You two have the promise to be the first, and most powerful, Valkyrie here. You both have bear val-tivars , the potential to access the power of a berserker, and a head start on all the others. If either of you throw that away with this petulant, childish horseshit, then I will throw you off the waterfall and out of this canopy myself. Am I understood?"
"Yes, hersir ," we both mumble.
"You will represent the bear warriors, and you will be a credit to the Valkyrie, and the gods. Am I understood?"
"Yes, hersir ," we both say a little clearer.
"You will harness the power bestowed upon you by the gods themselves, and by Odin, you will learn to control it. Am I understood?"
"Yes, hersir ."
"You have two days to work out whatever the fuck is holding you back, and to accept that you have to be in each other's company. On Tuesday, instead of magic training, you will spend the day with me, and if I don't meet both of your val-tivars , or either of you lays a finger on the other, there will be serious consequences." He glares between the two of us. "Am I understood?"
"Yes, hersir ."
"Good. Now, leave."
As he throws his arm out, his bear flashes to life beside him, as mean and as fierce as I remember. Inga doesn't look at his bear, so I guess she can't see it. She just nods at him, glares at me, and stalks off in the direction of the main hall.
Harald's massive black bear shows me its teeth, and I move quickly in the other direction.
Since I didn't do my laps around the Battleyard, and since I'm still feeling pent up, I jog along the branches of Featherblade. I'm dangerously close to the glade before I even realize it, and wheel back on myself, unwilling to revisit what happened there. And it's not the attack I'm worried about.
It's Kain. Everything that happened with Kain…
I force myself to focus. I have two days until Harald wants results. Is he right, is something holding me back? He made a good point about Selma. She got her val-tivar and she has a staff. She'll gain control much faster than I will. And probably faster than Inga, too.
We both need to learn to control magic without a staff, as well as learn to control our val-tivars , which means the others will catch up, and get ahead.
I don't know if that is a problem. After all, we're supposed to be a team, and it isn't a race. It's not like there are a limited number of wings available to earn.
But there's a strong part of me that wants to be first. That wants to be the best. My feet move faster across the wood as I let the feeling spread through me.
I want to prove them all wrong. I want to impress the Valkyrie. I want to prove to Featherblade that I can take the power it might give me.
As I run, thoughts flutter through my head and then leave, the same as they always do, but Brynhild's words keep filtering through.
"You need to learn to empty your head completely."
But my head houses my memory gallery. A beautiful, secret well of magic that shouldn't even exist.
Can I give up the gallery to do ice magic? To keep Thyrvi in this world all the time?
My feet slow.
Conflict wars in my head.
There are hundreds and hundreds of memories in the gallery I would never visit again. Negative connotations are attached to every statue that I was forced to store, stealing in secret from folk who didn't know what they were giving up. All for my parents to use later to exact a price from an unsuspecting rival or gain power over a foe. The gallery and its memory magic turned me into nothing more than a tool, no longer a daughter but a weapon.
But there is so much about the gallery that I love. It is my sanctuary, and the security it has always offered me from a world dominated by fear and loneliness is impossible to ignore.
The magic itself is unique and powerful, and without it I would have even less than I did all the time I was trapped in the Ice Court Palace. Without it, I would never have been able to get into the vault. Without it, I wouldn't have the knowledge or skills I have. Without it, would I be me?
It's irrelevant, I tell myself. I don't even know how to remove the gallery.
Could I just mentally burn it down? Melt it?
A twist in my stomach at the thought makes me draw to a complete stop, horror coursing through me at my actually visualizing such a thing.
Absolute certainty takes me.
I can't get rid of the gallery.
It's a part of me. It would be like carving out a part of my actual brain. It's not even possible to consider it.
I take a deep breath, tipping my head back and staring up at the thick canopy above. I'm vaguely aware I'm near the Snake Wing now. I don't care.
I'm trying not to get angry.
If clearing my head completely isn't even an option, how in the name of Odin am I going to get control of my bear or my magic?
"Tough day, princess?"
I snap my head down and glare at Kain. "Were you watching me?"
He shrugs and leans against the door to the healing rooms. "I saw Harald lose his shit with you."
My face screws up of its own accord. "Fucking Inga," I mutter. "Why her? Of all the fae here, why did she have to get a bear?"
"We often achieve far more if we are trying to beat an adversary."
"You're saying it's because of me?"
He shrugs. "No. She has the power of a berserker in her. I wouldn't want to see her with a wolf."
I narrow my eyes. "Are you saying wolves are more dangerous than bears?"
His eyes flash, an almost-smile playing on his lips. "Bears and wolves both experience bloodlust, princess, but the wolf is never sated. Permanent hunger is a lethal emotion."
I open my mouth, but no reply comes.
I know he is talking about fighting, but his words have me thinking about sex. My cheeks heat, and my words have stopped working, because all I can see is Kain, desperate, fierce, crushing me against him, decades of contained lust now uncontrollable?—
"You need to get control before Inga does."
I crash back into reality at his statement.
Existing frustration, now fueled by him and my burning body, makes me shout my response like a petulant child. "I don't know how to!" I immediately regret the outburst, and my cheeks grow even hotter with embarrassment.
"Forget about controlling your bear, and forget about doing everything the way everyone else does it. How do you normally get better at something?"
I try to calm myself and think for a minute. "Practice. But I tried that, and it's just erratic horseshit."
"What do you practice?"
I frown. "Whatever I'm trying to improve?"
His eyes shine. "You practice whatever you have learned . You thrive on information, princess. It's what you do."
I stare at him.
Shit. He's right.
That's how I excel at anything I've been good at. I research. I learn. I store, and I remember.
I focus best when I'm engrossed, and the more I understand things, the more naturally they come. If I can understand what I'm capable of, maybe it will come as it is needed?
Kain pushes himself off the door. "Let me know when you're ready to find ship names," he says, then strides away.