Chapter 7 Freija
Freija
Dawn arrived and with it the imminence of Halvar’s personal training session. After breakfast, I donned my thin fighting leathers. The material clung to my thighs and arms, but strategically placed pieces of linen granted me full range of motion.
Ambling through the tunnels to the training room, I brushed flecks of dust and lint off my clothes.
What could he possibly want to train me in?
I’d been through extensive training decades ago and re-trained here and there to make sure I could defend myself in a dangerous situation.
What more could Halvar want to add to that?
I strolled into the fjell’s training hall and took a deep breath, inhaling the lingering odor of sweat and damp leather.
It reminded me of my first sparring sessions, grunting soldiers and clanking swords.
My footsteps echoed off the rocky walls where I hadn’t spent much time.
I preferred the quiet solitude of the library over the gymnasium filled with noisy and sweaty soldiers.
But this was different. Today there wasn’t a soldier in sight.
To my left sat boulders the size of human carriages, ready for weight exercises and destruction.
To my right, stone swords and shields leaned against the rugged wall, waiting for a sparring match.
And at the far end of the space, was a large square platform made of stone.
Halvar strode back and forth atop it, his hands clasped behind his back, black fatigues clinging to his body.
His gaze flicked to mine, and my feet ground to a halt.
Without shifting a single muscle in his face or saying a word, Halvar had a way of commanding a room.
“Are we starting with swords or boulders?” I asked.
His beard twitched, and he pointed to the platform.
With a sigh, I crossed the remaining expanse and leaped onto the stone square.
He faced me, surveying my attire before turning his attention to my face. “What powers do you have?”
“The usual Fjell powers—forming rocks, wielding stones, crack-sealing—and some minor royal magic, like the light magic that can also stun.” I’d inherit more royal powers when my father passed and the ancestors, hopefully, recycled his magic to me, including the ability to kill.
Halvar motioned with his hand to the open space to his left. “Show me.”
“All right.”
Moving my hand through the air in an arc, I pulled on the power in my sternum, requesting the mountain to bend to my will. Shards of stone erupted from the floor, creating a lethal, spiky barrier around our platform.
“Impressive,” Halvar grunted.
“Thank you,” I replied, slightly surprised to hear that word from him.
I waved my hand around me again in a semi-circle, drawing the spikes back into the mountain. It wasn’t the easiest trick to learn, but I’d practiced over the years and honed my rock powers to the point where, at times, it felt like the mountain and I were one.
“How are you with a blade?” Halvar asked.
“You’re a smith fae, correct?” Halvar was known for crafting magnificent stone weapons in the blink of an eye… and then stabbing those blades right through those blinking eyes.
He nodded.
“Can you fashion me a sword?” I may have been able to draw rocks and boulders from nothing, but weapons had never been a strength of mine. Any I produced were average at best.
His lips twitched and he held out a hand. The air in his palm rippled and a lump of gray stone appeared, stretching out into a double-edged sword.
“Impressive,” I said, withholding a chuckle.
He flicked his eyebrows and handed me the weapon. “Show me what you can do.”
My hand dropped slightly under the weight, and I tightened my grip around the hilt.
I held the blade out in front of me, knuckles turning white as I started the parrying movements I’d been taught.
Halvar scrutinized my every move like the battle-hardened general he was.
My jagged and punchy movements continued as I stabbed an invisible foe.
Halvar grumbled and shook his head. “Who taught you that?”
I reared back and let my sword arm hang at my side. “Taught me what?”
“Those awful… I don’t even know what to call that… Flailing?”
“I’m not flailing.” Or was I? Perhaps I should’ve spent more time in here than with my books?
“Who taught you that?” he repeated.
“One of your soldiers. Ages ago.”
With a shake of his head, Halvar prowled toward me, and every muscle in my body tensed. Grabbing my sword hand, he turned my wrist forty-five degrees so the blade crossed between us. My skin warmed beneath his fingers.
“Each move should be as fluid as water,” he explained. He twisted to my back and slowly moved my hand with his. The motion was like sliding a knife through soft butter. “And never stand too still. The moment you stop is the moment an enemy can land a strike.”
Our bodies slid past each other as he guided my motions, bringing us closer and closer together, his front to my back, almost. Heat radiated off him like a roaring hearth, and a flush ran across my shoulder blades.
“Is that the number one lesson?” I asked, my voice husky.
“No. Rule number one is never lose your sword.”
“Fair enough,” I replied.
“Rule two is never stop moving.”
He let go of my arm, stepped to my side, fashioned himself a broadsword, and proceeded to demonstrate.
I mirrored his actions, swinging my sword in front of me and back again, then lunging forward and retreating.
My feet kept moving. On and on and on we went, until my muscles began to protest from the weight and activity.
“And train your wrist,” he said as if he could hear my pain. “Make those muscles stronger.”
I stopped and let my arms fall to my sides. “Do you have any suggestions on how I should do so?”
His eyes flared, and I bit my bottom lip. That sounded far more suggestive than I’d intended.
“I mean…” Oh, for ancestors’ sake, Freija. “What exercise would you recommend?”
That barely sounded better.
Halvar stopped, wiped his hand across his mouth, and dragged it over his bearded chin. “Overhead weighted presses. Use some rocks or even some of your larger books. Then move on to push ups which will help your core too.”
He pulled the sword from my hand and collapsed it, drawing the stone magic back into himself. Flecks of rock broke from the blade and fizzled into air.
Once the sword was gone, he cleared his throat and asked, “Exactly how much royal power do you have?”
I drew on the swirling mass of energy in my sternum again—a tangle of gray and glittering silver that felt like home. Willing the magic down my arms, I called forward a ball of light that cast a glow over my surroundings, Halvar included.
“So, the light powers.” His gaze locked on the swirling orb of effervescent white light.
“I can stun too.”
He harumphed. “Show me.”
I raised the light orb to the ceiling, letting it settle among the others that levitated there—courtesy of the Fjell Fae light-wielder.
That power currently resided with Sif. She’d been chosen by the ancestors to take up the mantle and bring light to the mountain’s tunnels when the last Fjell light fae died.
It was a power similar to that of the royal fae, but unlike all other Fjell Fae, she could not manipulate and create stone materials.
I, on the other hand, could do all of it.
My focus shifted back to the magic swirling inside me and I set my intention to that stunning power that could stop any creature in its tracks.
Magic tingled and sparked down my right arm as I pulled it out of me and cradled another ball of power in my palm.
This time the light crackled like intense static, zapping invisible bugs from the air.
Halvar skirted around me, examining the magic from afar. He nodded like he was impressed and I dissolved the orb, returning it from whence it came.
“What would you do if attacked?” he asked.
My eyebrows pinched together. “What do you—”
He launched at me, those muscular arms stretched wide. I sucked in a breath as they wrapped around me like roots of a tree clinging to a cliffside. A second later a blade tickled the soft flesh where my neck met my jaw.
“You need to be faster, princess.”
I swallowed hard, my throat bobbing against the sharp, cold stone, a direct contrast to the warmth of his breath brushing across my cheek. “If you say so, soldier.”
A chuckle. “I do.”
He felt like a monster wrapped in darkness and strength, his entire being a lethally honed weapon that could kill you in an instant. Trying to wriggle from his hold, careful not to cut myself on his blade, I opened my mouth—
“Oh, there you are,” Alva’s voice said, and Halvar sprang from me like I was formed of fire.
My eyes widened, and air disappeared from my lungs, evaporating into nothing like my sword had.
Had my maid seen us? No, what would that matter?
We’d been training, nothing more. However intimate it looked and felt.
My elevated heart rate was in response to her sudden appearance, not the way it had felt to be ensconced in Halvar’s arms.
Hopping off the platform, putting distance between myself and Halvar, I made my way across the room to her. Hopefully she hadn’t seen how close we were, and if she had, she recognized our positions for what they were: a guard teaching his charge how to protect herself from an attacker.
“You were looking for me?” I asked, my voice higher pitched than I’d have preferred, as I stopped before her.
She brushed her hands across the skirt of her empire-waisted dress before clasping them at her midsection. “Yes, ma’am. Your mid-day meal is ready for you in your rooms.”
Luncheon. Right. I bit my bottom lip and inhaled deeply through my nose, catching a reassuring note of something musky and oaky.
Peering in the direction of the smell, I caught Halvar leaning against the platform as far from me as possible, a stone axe in one hand and a whetstone in the other, sharpening the magical blade that was probably already sharpened to perfection by the strength of his magic.
She leaned to one side and peered over my shoulder, taking in the general.
“Thank you, Alva. Is your headache doing better?” I asked, hoping to steer conversation even further away from what she’d just witnessed.
Her frame relaxed as she refocused on me. “Much improved. The tea you suggested did wonders and temporarily relieved the pain.”
I smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”
She motioned to my attire. “Would you like me to draw you a quick bath or fetch a water basin so you may wash up?”
Brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, I found it drenched in sweat. “Ah, yes please to the bath.” I must have looked a right state.
“Very well.” She curtsied. “And I will have your notebooks ready for you to review materials for tomorrow’s council meeting while you eat.”
Just the way I liked it. Numbers were always easier to digest while I consumed a delicious meal.
“Thank you, Alva. I will be up shortly.”
With a quick nod, she swept from the gymnasium, and I turned back to the smithing fae still leaning against the platform.
“Is that sharp enough?” I motioned to the axe in his hand.
“No,” he replied without looking up. “Would you like to work on your speed a bit more before eating?”
“Not really.”
His eyes flicked up and a twinkle of something lingered there. He really wasn’t accustomed to people saying no to him. Then again, with how long he’d been in his position—since before my father took the throne—that was probably to be expected.
“Are you still amenable to these training sessions?” he asked.
“I will think about the suggestion.”
His brows rose. “Very well, princess. But just so you know, that flailing you were doing earlier won’t keep you alive.”
Oh goodness gracious. I was doing a poor job of winning his favor, so perhaps I did need to give in to these sessions? Especially if they improved my self-defense. With an extended exhale, I said, “I will acquiesce to your request.” Then promptly left the room.