Chapter Twenty
By the time Astrid’s feet grew sore and her eyes had begun to droop, she sought out Freya’s watchful gaze from the table—and didn’t find it.
Maybe Freya had gone back after all, knowing Astrid would be safe under Hedda and Hrothgar’s protection. Astrid’s heart hurt to think of the possibility. She wanted to spend time with Freya. They had so much to discuss.
Hedda offered no answers as to Freya’s whereabouts as she guided Astrid to a hot bath. She turned her back to guard the doorway.
The water was hot and refreshing against Astrid’s skin.
It was one thing to bathe in her own rooms back in the castle, but it was another to do it in the soft candlelight of somewhere different.
The castle had undoubtedly nicer facilities, but the luxury of the experience wasn’t lost on Astrid.
It reminded her of days past. Summers with her parents, stopping at inns and taverns when she’d been too young to participate in the drink and dance, smuggling a book up to the rented rooms and reading them by candlelight until, exhausted and happy, her parents had come up to join them.
She thought of the past often lately. Perhaps, in Ruga’s absence, the memories came quicker, tied hand-in-hand with missing her.
The two had exchanged letters, but where Ruga shared much about her time in Branwen, Astrid found it hard to put her feelings and experiences into words, and so she kept her responses brief.
Ruga was busy adjusting to her new life; Astrid did not want to burden her more than she already had.
Perhaps, also, Astrid’s evolving relationship to Freya made her wish she was better positioned to woo her properly.
Astrid imagined how she would have courted someone back when she wasn’t queen: Flowers. A night on the town. Taking Freya to Astrid’s favorite spots. Traveling together, showing off the skills she’d learned from her childhood for navigation, for finding hidden gems where no one knew to look.
Astrid mourned the experiences she could not have, even as she acknowledged Freya would not be in her life had Astrid never become queen.
When the bath was over, and Astrid had donned a clean robe, Hedda escorted Astrid up to the rooms. Though it was cool and wet outside, the inside was warm, and Astrid looked forward to whatever soft, worn mattress the room would have.
“We will take turns guarding you tonight,” Hedda said. “Freya is aware of the plan.”
“Did she leave long ago?” Astrid asked.
Hedda blinked. “Leave?”
There was noise from within the room. Astrid’s heart raced; her body warmed. “She’s here?”
In response, Hedda knocked on the door.
“Did you clear the hall?” Freya’s muffled voice called from within.
“Yes. All clear,” Hedda answered.
Astrid swallowed. She turned to Hedda with wide eyes.
For Hedda’s part, she swayed a bit with the drink, but she held her own. She gestured toward the door, all business.
Astrid opened it. Freya stood by the single window in the room, adorned in the same inn-provided robe and holding something in her fist. Her hair was wet but slicked away from her face.
She was not wearing her gloves.
Astrid turned back to Hedda once more. Hedda wore a conflicted look that cleared when she noticed Astrid staring.
“Good night,” Hedda said.
She closed the door, shutting them in.
Astrid stepped into the room tentatively, as if afraid to spook Freya. She brought herself close enough to see the water dripping from the end of Freya’s hair, the damp on her shoulders.
“Letter from Brenn,” Freya clarified. Huginn, Freya’s falcon, preened in the window, magnificently reflecting the warm orange glow from the hearth. “Varin wanted to send a search party after you, but Brenn assured him we were safe.”
“That was kind of her,” Astrid said carefully. She had decided hours ago she would worry about the consequences of her ride into the distance later.
“Can I get you anything, My Queen?” Freya asked. She stood soundlessly as a snake. “Water?”
“Water would be nice,” Astrid said.
Freya poured her some from the pitcher next to the bed. The water was cold, the pitcher beaded with moisture. Astrid tilted the cup back to get every last drop.
When she put the cup down, she caught Freya staring at her neck.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave,” Astrid said. “There’s something I would like to talk to you about.”
Freya remained standing. Astrid sat to allow them to talk at eye level.
“What is it?” Freya asked.
Astrid worked a circle into the eiderdown blanket with her thumb. What had started as an impulsive move to leave had turned into the best evening she’d had in recent memory. And it had the potential to be even better—
But she had no idea how Freya would react.
“I have grown very fond of you, Freya.”
Fond didn’t cover the depth of her investment, but I would go to war for you was a cliché—a line right out of the saucy romance with the soldier and the maiden.
“I noticed,” Freya said. The corner of her mouth turned up. Astrid couldn’t help but smile back.
“What do you want out of this? Out of…” She gestured between them, signifying whatever was there. Whatever they had not defined.
Freya considered this. “Anything. I mean… Everything.”
Astrid tried not to show her disappointment at the ambiguity in Freya’s answer.
“I told you before,” said Freya, “that I try to take what I can while I can. So maybe the question is not what we want, but what we can have?”
“What can we have?” Astrid asked, desperation creeping into her voice.
Freya was quiet for several beats. “We can’t present to the public as a couple,” she said bluntly. “It would undo all of my spy work, and show my importance to those who we may need to hide it from.”
Astrid knew this answer—had expected it, even—but if anyone could have come up with a solution, Freya would have been able to. The disappointment clogged her throat some more. She wanted to show Freya off to the world; she wanted everyone to know how much Freya meant to her.
If only Astrid could be someone else.
“All right,” Astrid said. “What would you have from me in private, then?”
Freya took a step closer. Their knees were almost touching. A flash of sun-kissed skin peeped out of the slit in Freya’s robe and then vanished. Her gaze was steady and serious, unblinking and unflinching.
“I am yours, Astrid. Completely. My body is yours, to shield you and to serve you. I would have whatever you want from me in private, and I offer you the same.”
Astrid looked away, blinking rapidly to prevent the unshed tears in her eyes from making their descent. Freya’s intensity was hard to stare at for too long. She was a star, brightly scorching, and Astrid wanted to plunge her hands into the core of her, even if they burned.
Another step closer. Their knees touched. Astrid moved hers slightly apart to make room for Freya’s leg. Her skin seared where they made contact. Astrid wanted more, more, more, no matter what it cost her.
“May I…?” Astrid asked, and Freya was already nodding. Astrid lifted one shaking hand to the knot of Freya’s robe and hesitated. She had stopped herself from going as far as she’d wanted last time.
She would not do either of them that disservice again.
Astrid tugged at the knot. The ribbon holding Freya’s robe fell to the floor. With hungry hands, Astrid skirted over the exposed skin of Freya’s stomach, the divot between her breasts. Her fingers found Freya’s shoulders underneath the robe. Freya’s skin was unbelievably warm and soft.
Astrid paused and looked up into Freya’s cool gray eyes. Freya was watching her with something between apprehension and desire—taking in how Astrid took her in. Astrid waited, not breaking Freya’s gaze, and then Freya nodded, and Astrid flicked her wrists.
The robe pooled around Freya’s feet. She stepped back and straightened her posture.
It was easy to forget how short Freya was. Her presence could be so large and overpowering. She was like something out of a painting—fierce, an animal that couldn’t be trapped if you wanted to keep your fingers.
Astrid started at the column of her throat and worked her way down with her eyes. Freya’s skin was marred with old scars, shining in the light of the fire. Her shoulders were square and she tensed with the shifting of her muscles as she clenched and unclenched one of her fists.
Astrid gathered that Freya was uncomfortable like this. Exposed to the world without her weapons to protect her. As if reading her mind, Freya walked over to the nightstand on her side of the bed and rearranged two small knives.
Astrid found her own dagger from her pile of folded clothes and brought them to Freya, setting them next to the knives on the table.
Freya looked up at her. Goddess, but she was short.
Standing side-by-side, the idea of them together was laughable.
Astrid’s ears burned. She was quite sure she looked ridiculous.
“I haven’t done this in a long time,” Astrid said, licking her lips. “And never… Never with a human. So I don’t know how it will go. I don’t want to hurt you.”
The corner of Freya’s lips twitched. “I have a high pain tolerance,” she said.
Unable to stop herself, Astrid’s eyes dropped to Freya’s scarred hands. Freya saw her looking and lifted her hands to place them on Astrid’s torso. The fabric of the robe crinkled around Freya’s fingers.
“It seems a bit unfair,” said Freya, “that only one of us is naked.”
And even though Freya had seen Astrid naked thousands of times, watching over her as she changed, Astrid may as well have unwrapped a present for Freya. As if unable to stop herself, Freya bent to kiss Astrid’s bare torso.
And then, gently, Freya gave Astrid a shove that landed her back on the bed.
Astrid swallowed. “Freya, I’m not sure I know what to do. I really haven’t… It’s been since before I was queen.”
The admission made Astrid’s ears hot, but Freya just looked at her thoughtfully. “Do you want to stop?”
“I… No.”