Chapter 27 Freija
Freija
For a week I kept my head down and helped where needed aboard the vessel—mostly in the kitchens as that was as far from Captain Henrik as I could possibly be.
All the while I miraged my features ever so slightly and kept my hood over my hair, blaming the need on the roaring winds and sea-spray as we navigated the North Atlantic and rugged Norwegian coastline.
Halvar, Vigi, and Finn were never far away, one of them keeping an eye on me at all times. All though, Halvar kept below deck most of the journey in case anyone might recognize him.
One brisk afternoon, the ship finally settled against a dock with a gentle bump. It was the fourth such stop, and, according to Mads, where we disembarked.
“This is it,” he said as we stood side-by-side at the railing, my satchel in hand.
“Aren’t you coming?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I have other matters to attend to across the channel.”
I furrowed my brow. “Denmark? What does Ragnhild want from Denmark?”
“The less you know, the better.” His lip quirked up, and I wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps he was involved in some sort of espionage. “Now, head up that hill and when you reach the rock carvings at the top, turn left. You’ll see a cabin along the tree line. That’s Vigdis’s home.”
The woman they’d said I would be staying with. Ragnhild’s friend. A Forest Fae botanist who was revered for her work according to Mads and Ragnhild.
“Thank you for your help.”
He bowed his head. “Miss.”
I thanked him once more before I crept down the gangplank—my trio of guards at my back—and took in the minuscule village from the dock.
A tall church loomed beside the harbor and wooden homes stretched out behind it as if seeking shelter from the dreary weather.
The nearby hills were coated in thick green trees, some of which were starting to turn orange, while craggy bluffs edged the town like sentries.
What a marvelous feeling to see somewhere so entirely new.
An eager energy coursed through my veins, spurring my feet onward. As we reached the start of the hillside, I turned to wave at Mads, but like a phantom, he’d vanished. Or more likely gone back to the kitchens for bread. The rolls they made aboard the Valur were some of the tastiest I’d ever had.
With a gentle smile, I tightened the strip of leather around my waist, hooked my satchel over my shoulder, and started my trek up the hillside behind the town—Vigi and Finn at my back and Halvar at my side, all three scanning the area for threats among the brush.
The stones and inclines were different down here in the south.
Smoother than the jagged peaks that reigned over the fjords, and lighter in tone too.
It was as if the gusts of salty air coming off the ocean had smoothed everything in its path and wiped away a layer of color.
Even the heather that dotted the trail wasn’t immune—a lighter shade of purple compared to the more violent hue that grew on our southern-facing slopes.
I continued up and up and up. Wind swept over the cliff, tangling my skirts between my legs, removing my hood, and sending my hair into complete disarray, my cloak billowing behind me like a flag.
Near the top of the hill, two red carvings etched into the stone came into view, each in the shape of a long ship with little lines aboard it.
Those must have been what Mads was referring to.
They looked like they’d been here for centuries, worn down by storms but still holding on to the mottled, gray cliffside.
As instructed, I turned left.
Mads was correct… again. You couldn’t miss the cabin.
The small building, comprised of stones and wood with a grassy roof, was quaint and cheerful.
Bunches of flowers sprung up around it. Wood buckets were filled to the brim with soil and seedlings.
It most certainly looked like the home of someone who loved plants.
“That’s it,” I said.
Halvar hummed. “I’ll go first. Vigi, Finn, scour the perimeter.”
“Yes, sir,” the two men said in unison and pulled out matching metal daggers.
My eyes widened at the sight, and I turned to Halvar. “A calmer approach would be wise, I think.”
He quirked a brow.
“From my understanding this is a woman living alone. We cannot barge in there. She will think she’s under attack and will not be keen to help us.”
Halvar pursed his lips like he thought I raised a good point but didn’t like it. With a grunt, he said, “Fine. I will let you approach, but I will be right behind you.” He turned his focus back on the soldiers. “Still search the area, though. I don’t want any surprises.”
There was that compromise we’d discussed on the ship. It would have to do, and at least I’d talked him out of essentially kicking down the pretty front door.
“All right, let’s go,” I said, and refocused on the cottage.
As I ambled down the pebbled path, more details came into view.
From the pale green curtains hanging in the two misshapen windows to the stone chimney puffing smoke, everything about the place felt homely and one with its natural surroundings.
At the front door, I tamped down my wayward hair and brushed my hands over my skirts before using the butterfly knocker.
Dunk. Dunk. Dunk.
Scuttling noises sounded from within, followed by an, “Oh, dear. Oh, dear.”
Just as I reached to tighten my cloak around my shoulders, the door swung open and a woman appeared, draped in green fabric cinched around her waist into a makeshift dress.
She surveyed me from toe to head, her gaze stopping briefly on my eyes—as happened with so many people when they encountered the marbled coloring.
“Who are you? What do you want?” she asked, then looked at Halvar and went the color of snow.
Pale lines of age clung to what must have once been a sharply defined jaw, and a thick braid of white hair draped over her delicate shoulder. Flowers and leaves dotted the interwoven strands, like she’d just stepped out of a glen of blooms that worshiped her as their queen.
“Are you Vigdis Johansen?”
“I am.” Her steely gaze narrowed. “And who might you be?”
“My name is Freija Eriksdatter. I’m a daughter of the mountain. This is Halvar, my guard. We are also accompanied by two soldiers who are nearby.”
Her eyes widened.
“My friend Ragnhild of the Forest sent me to study with you for a time.”
“Ah yes, a message arrived by hawk a few days ago letting me know you were on your way.” She peered out the door and scanned the hillside and tree line, then motioned for me to come inside. “Quickly, quickly, my dear. Any friend of Ragnhild’s is a friend of mine.”
Relief washed through me as I stepped into the cottage, drawn to the warmth from within.
“And your other guards will be all right outside for a moment?” she asked.
“They will be fine,” Halvar replied.
The eclectic space was filled to the ceiling with plants, stacks of books, and a whole host of gadgets I’d never seen before, not in person, at least. One in particular, sat prominently on the large wooden table in the middle of the main room.
It appeared to be a microscope, something I’d seen in one of my books.
At the back of the room on either side of the stove, watching over the large table, were two circular stained-glass windows with snow-white owls in the middle. White, yellow, brown, and green rays of light glittered across the floorboards, as if magic was at work.
Caught in those glittering rays were two mismatched armchairs constructed of various different patterned fabrics, which sat before a black stove.
“Settle in, settle in. I won’t harm you.”
That was reassuring to hear, but I knew Ragnhild would never send me to someone she didn’t trust with her own life.
Then again… she’d failed to mention that I’d need to board Henrik’s ship.
So perhaps I needed to reevaluate. Or at the very least have a stern conversation about our boundaries and what each of us deemed dangerous.
I set my bag down by the table and gravitated toward the fireplace.
“Take a seat, take a seat. I’m sure you’ve had a long journey.”
It had been an adventure, that was certain, and my body felt like it was still on the boat, with the world continuing to bob and roll. Sidling into one of the armchairs, I stifled a moan at how good it felt to be cushioned for the first time in a week.
Halvar, meanwhile, peered into the two adjoining rooms then stood by the door, arms crossed.
Vigdis appeared behind the other chair, her pink button nose peering over the back of it, before she scuttled around, motioning to my head.
“What happened to your hair? I heard it was copper in color, not blonde. Or did my sources get that incorrect? Does the Fjell Princess actually have blonde hair?”
My hair! The magic was so easy to leave in place, and I’d been so focused on keeping it that way for days that I’d completely forgotten to change it now that I’d reached my destination.
Pressing my hand to my shoulder, I pulled back the layer of magic and freed myself of the disguise.
“Ah,” Vigdis sighed. “There it is.”
I smiled back at her. “Your sources were not wrong.”
“But that is alarmingly noticeable to folks, especially with those eyes.”
“Very true. But even I can’t mirage them.”
Her head tilted in a way that I recognized from the historians and scholars I’d met. A scientist thinking. “Not even with your royal magic?”
“No.”
“Hmmm. Fascinating, fascinating.” She shrugged then scurried over to the iron stove and set a bronze-colored teapot on it. “Rather fortuitous, but I was in the middle of making tea. Would you care for some?”
“I will never say no to a nice cup of tea on a windy day.”
Her smile met her ears. “I think we are going to get along quite well then. How about you, young man? Would you like some tea?”
There was nothing young about Halvar. As if to prove that point, he removed the dark-haired mirage he’d had in place on the ship, and Vigdis gasped.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I dare say, you look far younger than those silver strands would have one believe.”
Halvar’s nose twitched. Oh, he didn’t like this conversation.
“Tea?” she proffered again.
He shook his head. “No, thank you.”
We sat and enjoyed our conversation in the armchairs beside the fire, taking the time to get to know one another.
I told her of my garden at home, my research, and life in the mountain.
She told me of her favorite plants, her time living along the rugged southern coast, and the three nieces she adored.
“My sister is with child again,” Vigdis said between sips of tea. “This time with her second husband.”
“How wonderful.” Children were a joy and a blessing for those who chose to have them.
“Indeed,” Vigdis replied.
“You don’t have plans for any of your own?”
She shook her head. “No, no. I’m too busy studying these plants. Have been for centuries. Will do so for centuries more should the ancestors bless me with more years.”
I raised my teacup. “Here’s hoping they do.”
Her cheeks pinked and a smile swept across her face. “And to you too, my dear Freija.”
After tea and a quick plate of mackerel and potatoes for dinner, Halvar stepped outside to set up tents with the soldiers while Vigdis showed me to a small cot tucked away behind an ornately carved wooden screen, scrolls and leaves adorning every panel.
“Will this suffice?” She pointed to the bed covered in a thick quilt that was as mismatched as the fabric on the chairs.
“This will do perfectly,” I replied. “Thank you again for taking me into your home.”
She took my hands in hers and gently squeezed. “I am truly honored, and as I said, any friend of Ragnhild’s is a friend of mine. Now, get some sleep. Tomorrow we shall begin our studies together and work on that research of yours.”
I squeezed back, and she disappeared through a small door into the sole bed chamber.
Disrobing down to my shift, I pulled a thin nightgown out of my pack and threw it on before climbing onto the small cot.
The wool blankets scratched at my exposed skin and ankles, but the bed was more than comfortable enough, and certainly better than the hammock I’d swung back and forth in on the ship.
I stared at the slats on the ceiling, wondering if the three men outside were all right—well, one in particular—and slowly drifted to sleep.