Chapter 2 Freija
Freija
Scurrying through the last of the trees, I came up to a blank rock face, the rugged wall marked with moss and centuries old striations.
It was all an illusion, though, courtesy of my father’s magic, something all Fjell Fae monarchs could do thanks to the royal powers granted to them by the ancestors.
I strolled through the mirage, a warm tingle sweeping over my exposed skin as it granted me passage to the mountain.
Inside the cavern-like entrance, glittering with light from magical sconces, two soldiers stood guard.
Their gazes flicked over me before they straightened to attention, heads bowing.
I gave them tight smiles and continued deeper into the fjell, striding through the tunnels toward the rooms I called home.
The interior of the mountain was similar to the growing human town of Skolvik in many ways, including the increasing number of people residing in here and the plethora of establishments tucked away in caves and chambers.
The seamstress had closed for the day, the baker waved a loaf of bread in greeting as I passed, and the tea house next door, with its brand new tablecloths, had candles flickering around the entrance, welcoming patrons for a cozy drink.
A spot further down the tunnel was in the middle of repairs—a pair of fae had their arms braced over their heads, pushing their magic into the rough-hewn stone and sealing a large crack.
Foreman Fredrik turned in my direction, and I avoided eye contact.
If given the chance, he would keep me talking all day.
My footfalls sounded more clearly the closer I got to my chambers, fewer residents were milling around these parts especially at dinner time.
This celebratory meal was no doubt a diplomatic endeavor and deserved far better attire than my daily shift which was covered in dirt and detritus I’d picked up from the garden.
No, this would need far finer materials.
I had a role to play and soldiers to greet and thank.
Hopefully, changing attire would help dissipate the shock that trembled through my limbs.
I hurried into my room, a soft glow shining from the magical wall sconces over the well-loved chamber.
From the four-poster wooden bed, to the bookshelves and neat stacks of papers lining the table in the far-right corner, this was my little piece of the mountain. A space that belonged solely to me.
Aiming for the armoire on the left-hand side of the room, beside the large bathing tub and magical hearth, I pulled off my cape and slung it over the edge of the basin. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time for a soak. That would have to wait until tonight.
I found an emerald-colored, wool dress with silver embroidery adorning the long sleeves and set it on my bed.
That and my hair as-is would have to do.
I didn’t have time to change the twisted bun, nor did I need to.
I was going to be respectful of my role and responsibilities, not attempt to woo a potential partner.
My sister and I had been on strict orders our entire lives not to have any dalliances with the soldiers.
I’d adhered to that rule, while Nora had torn through it like a bear through sheep.
But she always got away with it. She could.
She was the spare. I, on the other hand, was set to take the throne and needed to marry for political advantage, and soldiers never fit that requirement.
Letting out a sigh and rolling my shoulders, I pulled off my dress, swapped it out for the clean one, and hoped I wouldn’t be too late to my parents’ dinner.
Striding down the rugged mountain tunnels, I aimed for the royal quarters I’d moved out of a long time ago. The thick material of my dress fluttered around my feet as I tugged the embroidered sleeves into place, the thread glinting in the light from the sconces dotting the hallway every few meters.
The glittering entrance to the throne room came into view, and I rushed through, the light blue quartz archway beaming down at me like it was infused with magic. Which I’d always felt like this space was. Magic.
From the glassy, sky-blue walls to the equally shiny throne made of the same quartz, the room had always held a sense of awe and majesty that could be likened to magic.
I strode past the high-backed chair to the wood door at the rear of the room and entered the King’s Council chambers.
“Ah, Freija, there you are,” Mother said from the small crowd of council members where my father was in deep conversation already. “I was beginning to think Ragnhild had failed to inform you of tonight’s last-minute dinner.”
“You should know by now that she isn’t always the most reliable at relaying information.”
Mother chuckled, and the purple diadem atop her head glinted in the soft light from the magical orbs floating around the cavernous ceiling. “And yet, here you are.”
I didn’t bother to tell her how quickly I’d changed in order to make it here in time.
But, in my haste, it appeared like I’d selected the correct attire.
Mother had opted for practical but regal clothing, wearing a deep purple dress with gold embroidery around the square collar.
It complimented Father’s deep navy ensemble too, the double-breasted jacket highlighting his standing among those gathered.
The only attire I couldn’t see were uniforms…
“Are the soldiers not here yet?” I asked, steering the conversation away from my almost tardiness.
“They should be arriving any moment,” she replied and motioned to the seat beside the head of the table. “We’ve set you beside your father tonight.”
“Wonderful.”
I wandered to my spot, putting the table between myself and the entrance.
“How is my eldest daughter this evening?” my father said as he walked over and set his hand on my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze.
“I’m fine, Father. Thank you.”
“Good. Now, tell me. How was your garden today? Any new blooms?”
“This late in the summer, I don’t expect much new.”
He let out a sigh. “What a shame. Those purple ones were so pretty this spring.”
Saxifraga oppositifolia. Purple saxifrage.
A smile tilted my lips, matching the warmth in his. “They were.”
I loved how attentive he was and how much he cared. Never once had he voiced concerns about the amount of time I spent outside the mountain. In fact, he often asked for blooms to be brought in from the garden and gifted to my mother on his behalf. They were requests I gladly fulfilled.
His brows pinched together and he leaned close so only I could hear him. “When dinner is over, please come talk to me. There is something I wish to discuss with you.”
My stomach sank. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing worth worrying about now,” he replied and gave my shoulder another pat before retreating to his spot at the head of the gigantic stone-slab table.
What could he need to discuss in private? Had something happened? Was it Mother? Was she unwell? Or perhaps I’d done something wrong? I had far too many memories of Let’s sit down and discuss this for a moment that always resulted in me feeling like I’d failed the mountain or my family.
A knock sounded from the throne room and the door swung open.
My grip tightened on the chair back in front of me.
In walked six soldiers in their gray-and-black uniforms, capes draped over one shoulder, each one nodding and bowing to my mother and father, before turning to me with respectful smiles.
I returned each one in kind, before the group dispersed revealing a pale man with a stoic grimace and a body riddled with muscles.
He looked like he could move mountains and break a foe’s neck without a second thought.
Halvar Haraldson, General and Head Guard of the Fjell Fae.