Chapter 35 Freija
Freija
We climbed down several sets of wooden stairs, stumbling and bumping into walls and railings. Or, at least, I did. Based on the steadfast footsteps behind me, Halvar, even injured, was immune to the ship’s movement.
Magnus steered us through sleeping quarters filled with snoring sailors and swaying hammocks toward the back of the ship where three doors stood ajar. He passed through the one on the left, and we followed him inside, only to be immediately assaulted by a thick smell of herbs and charcoal.
“Laknar here will help you.” Magnus motioned to the man approaching us from the back of the room. “Send word when your wounds have been attended to and I will escort you to your chamber for the night.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He bowed his head and scurried away as the healer approached us from across the room, rounding a table and throwing a hand towel onto the workbench to his right.
Hair the color of salt and eyes so green they reminded me of the pines on the mountain, Laknar was like all the other sailors in their blue attire, save for one major difference: he appeared older than any of the others. Thick wrinkles curved around his mouth and sagged across his brow.
“You need healing?” he asked, his voice calm yet scratchy.
I nodded and motioned to the man still looming behind me. “He does.”
“Well, no use standing in the doorway. Hop on the table, young man.”
Biting my bottom lip to keep from smiling, I stepped aside so Halvar could do as he was told.
He lumbered past, grumbling curses, arm still dripping blood.
Laknar’s eyes caught on the droplets splattering against the floorboards and tutted. “What kind of beast did you try to tame, son?”
Halvar visibly bristled, but plonked his rear onto the thick wooden table in the middle of the room. “No beast.”
I cleared my throat, catching Laknar’s attention before he said something that would get his head ripped off. Just because Halvar was an arm down, didn’t mean the man couldn’t be vicious.
“Laknar, my name is Freija Eriksdatter, Crown Princess of the Fjell, and this is my guard and General, Halvar Haraldson.”
The Fjord Fae’s eyes widened and he tapped the edge of the table like I was the first to surprise him in a long while. “Well, that is an interesting turn to my day. Welcome aboard.” He turned back to Halvar. “What attacked you, General?”
“Forest Fae kidnappers.”
Laknar let out an odd high-pitched chortle. “Did you kill them?”
“What do you think?”
“I think the legends are true… And, yet, here you are, bleeding in my quarters.”
Halvar huffed. “I got distracted.”
“By what?”
Those sky-blue eyes flicked to mine for a quick second. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Fair enough.” Laknar turned to me. “And you are injured too?”
“No,” I replied, holding my hands together at my stomach in the practiced and polite move that had been ingrained in me. “Minor scrapes and bruises that will heal with time. Please, check on that arm of his.”
“Very well, Your Highness.” He refocused on Halvar. “Lie back on the table, young man.”
The healer wasn’t going to survive this endeavor if he kept calling Halvar a young man. And, yet, Halvar obeyed him, pivoting and lying back against the thick, stained planks.
Laknar brought over a stool, a tray of silver tools, and a basin of clean water. I’d seen our Fjell healers work on wounds before—mostly my and Nora’s scrapes from training sessions centuries ago. But, I’d never seen a Fjord Fae healer work. Would it be any different?
I leaned against the end of the table by Halvar’s feet, using the piece of furniture to stop me from swaying with the waves.
The weathered healer perched on the stool and started pulling away the fabric I’d used on Halvar’s wound. As it unspooled, my stomach turned. There was so much blood. More than I had expected. Thank goodness we’d found that cove when we did, or… No, I couldn’t think like that.
The bloody mangle of material was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor with a muttered, “May as well, since you’ve already made a mess of them.”
The man really had no sense of fear in Halvar’s presence. Then again, he did sail on a vessel full of fae under the leadership of a formidable captain. A captain who, as the song said, was always on the hunt for treasure—and, no doubt, had vicious means of obtaining it.
“This is decent field work,” Laknar said, drawing me from my thoughts. “Did you do this, Your Highness?”
“Please, call me Freija, and yes.”
“Well done.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, Halvar, remove your shirt.”
The air in the room stilled, my breath with it.
“No.”
Laknar tapped his finger against the table again. “I’m afraid that is your only option here, young man.”
Oxygen refrained from moving within my lungs. Halvar. Shirtless. Goodness.
I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles paling. “Is… Is that truly necessary?”
“I don’t want his mangled shirt to fall back while I clean the wound.”
“Can’t you use your Fjord Fae magic to clean the shirt?” I asked.
His brows furrowed. “Yes, but… this tattered one will do no one any good and will get in my way. We will get him a new shirt.”
“That would be better,” I replied.
“Good,” Laknar said. “But first, let me sort out your messy state.” He waved his hand and swirls of water wrapped around both me and Halvar.
Before either of us could lash out, the water vanished into thin air, taking the dirt and debris that had clung to us with it and leaving us dry.
It was alarmingly effective and appreciated.
Halvar hadn’t moved. He lay as still as a stone statue, like this was the most inconvenient use of his time.
Laknar’s eyes flicked between me and Halvar. “Oh… Of course. Privacy. Your Highness, Freija, why don’t you wait outside—”
“She doesn’t leave my sight,” Halvar rumbled.
Laknar tightened his jaw. “Very well then, but if you stay,” he pointed to me, “you help. That’s the rule.”
“All right,” I replied and let out a shuddered breath.
A princess and her guard shouldn’t be in such close confines together.
Even if one of them was injured. It was far too intimate, too personal.
And yet, I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Part of me knew I shouldn’t want to see Halvar half-naked, but the other part was desperate to give in to that desire that flared between us every time he stepped into a room.
Halvar kept his eyes locked on the wall behind me and the door as he bent at the waist and sat up right.
Even seated, his head almost brushed the low-slung wooden beams that ran across the ceilings.
Yanking at the material tucked into his trousers, he loosened his shirt and pulled his arms through what remained of it.
Lifting his good arm over his head, he grabbed the linen between his shoulder blades and pulled the shirt over his head in one swift movement.
I quickly stifled a gasp as the shirt fluttered to the ground beside the bandage and Halvar lay back down.
Scooting his stool closer to the bench, Laknar set to work, using his powers and crafting a small orb of water. The clean liquid swished around in its bubble-like confines, and, when set against Halvar’s cut, swirled over the wound and turned pink.
Fascinating.
I wanted to pay attention to his work. Should do so. But my eyes drifted from the Fjord Fae to the man he was treating.
From the boots by my hands, to the V-shaped dip at his waistband, Halvar was a broad expanse of thickly-corded muscles.
My gaze roved northward, to the tight band of muscles of his torso and the dense pectorals that looked like they belonged to the Norse Gods the humans worshipped.
Halvar looked like he should be worshipped.
What if I did? Would he want me to touch him? Would he feel as strong as he looked?
Our eyes collided and my chest stilled, a flush filling my cheeks. I’d been caught staring, and the look on his face was one of pure satisfaction. Like he enjoyed having me ogle him and could hear the scandalous thoughts running through my mind.
“Place your hand there, Your H—Freija.”
I shook myself free from the intensity coming off my guard and turned to the healer. “Pardon?”
Laknar motioned to Halvar’s good shoulder. “Hold his other shoulder and arm still.”
“What for?”
“Lesser men fidget during the mending process.”
Halvar grumbled. “I am no lesser man.”
There really wasn’t anything lesser about him. Not from my vantage point.
“Certainly, but I’d rather not get clobbered by that free hand of yours while using my powers.”
“I’ve never harmed a healer who didn’t deserve it.”
“And today will be no different because the young lady will be holding down your arm. Now”—he waved me over—“if you’d please, Freija.”
I nodded and slowly moved along the left side of the table, careful not to stumble and fall across it as the boat shifted with the waves.
Trailing my fingers over the grain, I lifted them to Halvar’s forearm and continued upward until I had one hand at his elbow and the other settled atop his shoulder.
“Good,” Laknar said. “Now, this will hurt.”
“Get on with it,” Halvar groused, his eyes adhered to the ceiling and teeth gritted.
Laknar braced both of his hands around the now-cleaned wound, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.
A light glow emanated from his hands. A glow I recognized…
Turned out the Fjord Fae healers were just like those in the mountain, their magic pulsing into us to mend what was broken or torn.
It was a power given by the ancestors to select fae upon their birth within all four factions, but each one kept their affinity for their element.
And, apparently, the healing power looked the same across the Nordic fae factions.