Chapter 39 Freija
Freija
The small town was overrun by fog and a damp cold that sank into my bones. A gray melancholy blanketed the slate-colored village and reminded me of why we were returning to the mountain: Father.
My bubble of confidence burst and my shoulders slumped inward as we ambled along the seawall. I tightened my cloak around my neck and pressed my hand to my stomach as if that might hold me together. “Do you have a plan for getting down the fjord?”
Halvar stomped beside me. “I know a man.”
Somehow, that came as a surprise. “Really?”
He peered down at me as if that were a ludicrous question.
“You’re not a man of many words and have spent years up north. Forgive me if I didn’t think it was possible for you to know someone in Grim of all places.”
He tilted his head to one side and motioned toward what looked like an alehouse. A signboard squeaked on its hinges and dark gray stones covered in a slick layer of grime made up the rest of the establishment’s facade. “I fought alongside Snorri’s father many years ago.”
I didn’t dare ask exactly how many years that had been. It would just be a reminder of the age gap between us and how little life I’d led compared to him. While two hundred years may seem like a lot to humans or other creatures, in fae years, I was still quite young.
Halvar holstered his axe against his back, lashing it with the straps from our packs, and lifted his cloak. Using it as a shield from any potential humans, he called forward a short sword and fastened it between his belt and hip.
“Is Snorri the violent kind?”
He shook his head. “You just became an even bigger target.”
I swallowed hard.
“Keep your hood up and ears miraged.”
I did as requested. It was a good idea; staying hidden would keep us safe.
We strode down the harborside road and headed inside the small alehouse.
A wave of warmth washed over me along with the strong smell of hops and brine.
I welcomed the heat provided by the roaring hearth, its rocky chimney stained with soot.
The rest of the interior was filled with shipping equipment and patrons perched on crates as they quietly sipped at their morning drinks.
“Well, as I live and breathe,” a male voice said, and I looked up to see a gangly, weather-worn man with black-and-gray hair. He wiped a rag across the wooden counter in front of him. “Never thought I’d see the day when you walked through those doors again.”
Again?
“Snorri, it has been some time.” Halvar crossed the room and clasped the man’s hand. “We can’t stay unfortunately.”
“Not even for a single drink?”
Halvar shook his head. “I am afraid not. We need passage down the fjord.”
Snorri’s eyes shifted to where I stood slightly behind Halvar and he flinched, dropping the rag in his hand. “Are you? No, you cannot be.”
Halvar leaned over the counter and drew Snorri’s attention back to him. “Yes, and the fewer people who know, the better.”
“Understood.” Snorri flicked a weary glance at the axe strapped to Halvar’s back. “In that case, take my boat.”
“Thank you. I will have soldiers return with it as soon as possible.”
“There is no rush.” Snorri patted the bar top then looked back at me and whispered, “My condolences.”
I bowed my head. “Thank you.”
The exchange was quiet enough not to rouse suspicion from nearby guests and after a few more words exchanged between the two old friends, Halvar and I made our way out of the alehouse and over to the docks.
We walked down the third dock as instructed by Snorri, aiming for the last boat in the line.
Halvar motioned to the small vessel. “This should be it.”
The wooden boat was similar to the one we’d used with Mads on our way down the fjord. But in this case, a tent-like structure sat near the rear and the mast was quite a bit shorter. It also looked like one strong swell or wave could flip it over.
“It doesn’t appear to be meant for the ocean.”
“Agreed.” Halvar jumped on board and the boat bobbed at the intrusion. “Knowing Snorri, its primary use would be for business runs inland.”
“Well, I appreciate the loan.”
Halvar extended his hands and motioned for me to jump.
I waved him away. It wasn’t that much of a leap. “I can—”
One second I was on the dock staring down at him, the next he had his hands at my waist and hoisted me into the air.
An unbecoming squeak slipped from my lips before he set me on my feet.
I swayed, arms out to catch my balance, and Halvar didn’t remove his hands from where they rested at my waist. Staring up into his eyes, I stepped into his body, drawing us flush against each other.
“Freija…”
My palms swept up his broad arms, settling against his shoulders, and squeezed. His eyes fluttered shut, and I withheld a gasp. How had I garnered such a hold over this man? A man who would lay down his life for me without hesitation.
In a moment of weakness, I wrapped my arms around his broad torso, hiding them beneath his cloak, and rested my head against his chest. A cocoon of oak-scented warmth.
He pressed his lips to the top of my head and stroked my back in a soothing motion.
The sensation had my shoulders dropping and my heart slowing to a gentle and melodic beat.
I didn’t want this to end. Here in his arms felt safe and warm and protected from the chaos that was my life. Like a haven in tumultuous seas or a plant pot where I might lay down roots.
But it had to end. I needed to get back to the fjell before things started to go awry.
The monarch’s power was closely tied to the well-being of the mountain, and while I hadn’t been bestowed the full amount of royal magic by the ancestors yet, I felt different.
My magic felt different. It was as if it were pointing me back home. Back to where I was needed the most.
I reluctantly stepped out of Halvar’s arms, and he peered down at me with the look of a general assessing his troops.
“Thank you for bringing me home,” I said.
“We are not there yet.”
“The sentiment remains the same.”
He nodded and reached out, brushing a stray hair off my forehead. “Let me get us underway.”
My eyelashes brushed the tops of my cheeks and I took a deep breath. “I’ll help.”
With another quick nod to each other, we set to work, readying the boat for departure.
As Halvar pushed us off the dock, I coiled the rope in the same fashion I’d seen Mads and Henrik’s crew do, making sure it remained tangle-free.
Halvar swiftly got us out of the harbor and around a couple of small islands that flanked the entrance to the nearby fjord without trouble.
Water lapped against the hull and the fog that I’d come to associate with Grim lifted the farther inland we went and the higher the sun rose.
Halvar steered from the back of the vessel, hidden from view thanks to the tent.
From my spot beneath the triangular piece of fabric, I could just make out the top of the mountain I called home.
I wrung my hands in my lap, staring straight ahead at what awaited me.
An entire mountain would now call me their queen. Or at least would do so after my coronation.
Queen.
And there was only one reason why that time had arrived: Father was gone.
He’d be laid to rest with past monarchs in the royal tombs, his likeness carved into his stone coffin so it looked as if he was lying atop it.
His magic would be returned to the ancestors and recycled to me, should they deem me worthy of having any of it.
That was a whole other ceremony, a private one I’d been told about since I was young, and would require a visit to the Temple.
The last time I’d visited the Temple was with Father, a discussion of leadership tactics flitting between us.
A tear spilled down my cheek, and my emotional floodgates opened. I covered my nose and mouth with my hands, desperately trying to stifle the noise of my grief.
He was gone.
He was gone and there was nothing I could do about it.
We were supposed to have more time.
I blubbered and sniffled, wiping away the stream of tears to no avail.
“Freija?”
The boat swayed as it continued gliding down the fjord, wind in its small sail.
“Freija?” a warm voice said and Halvar stepped around the side of the tent.
I peered up into his eyes and my chest shuddered with another soft sob.
Halvar stooped beneath the canvas, knelt beside me, and pulled me against his chest.
“He’s gone.”
“I know.” He rocked us gently. “I know, Freija.”
“We were supposed to have more time before I became Queen.”
“You will be fine,” Halvar grumbled like a command.
“You cannot possibly know that for certain.”
“I do.”
“How?” My voice sounded far off and weak. Everything I wasn’t supposed to be as a queen.
“Because I know what it feels like to lose a parent, and I know you have the strength to get through this.”
“But the pain.” Now that I was safely away from anyone who might harm me and had opened up to the grief, it felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to my heart and sheared off a piece of it and there was no magic in the world, no Fjell Fae powers, that could put the shards back together and seal the crack.
“That feeling like something is missing will always be there, but the pain will ease with time until the good memories surpass the grief of their loss.”
Part of me hated that he knew this feeling and understood the agony twisting my stomach. The other part was worried about the implications of this death and whether or not I’d done enough to prepare myself. I’d always known this day would come. I just thought I’d have more time.
“Look at me.” Halvar cupped my cheek and turned my face up to his.
Those eyes of his sparkled with a care I’d never seen before, something that bordered on compassion.
“You are more than ready to sit on that throne, and you will do spectacular things for the Fjell Fae. You will rule and you will do so well.”
“How can you believe that when the second I left the mountain everything fell apart. I made a bad decision.”
He hugged me tighter to him, wrapping his body around mine. “Freija, you can’t possibly believe that you leaving the mountain caused your father’s death, can you?”
I sniffled. Did I? No… Maybe. My mind raced with too many horrible images, spiraling down and down and down.
“How long had your father been coughing?”
His question stopped my winding thoughts. “Coughing?”
He nodded. “I noticed it when I first returned. There had never been any reports or conversations about him being ill, and yet…”
Father had coughed a few times at that dinner with the soldiers. Oh ancestors. He’d been coughing a bit during our walk too. And at some of the Council meetings in recent months. Memories of paler skin, a cleared throat, and waved away questions came roaring back. How had I missed the signs?
Another tear spilled down my cheek and onto Halvar’s fingers. He gently brushed the tearstains aside with his thumb.
“A while,” I finally admitted. “I think he may have been unwell for months.”
Halvar nodded as if I were confirming his suspicions.
I crashed against his chest once more and sobbed until my lungs hurt. He held me through every stuttered breath, every gasp, every tear. Brushing my hair out of my face and rubbing his palm in circles against my back, Halvar held me together as I fell apart.
“I will be right back,” he said after a while. Removing his cloak, he rested it on the planks and laid me down on it. “I need to make sure we don’t hit the rocks.”
Peering over the edge of the boat, I caught his meaning. We’d continued drifting slowly down the fjord, but the wind had turned and was steering us toward the shoreline. It would be a few more bends before we’d see the hamlet of Skolvik.
Halvar returned a moment later and sat at the edge of the tent, one eye on the front of the vessel, the other at the rear. He clasped a rope in his hand which—
“Is that tied to the rudder?” I asked.
A hint of a smile tilted his lips.
“How ingenious.”
“You’d have done the same.”
I scoffed.
“Don’t downplay your own intelligence.”
“I’m not.” I flicked my eyebrows once. “I just don’t think I’m in the right mindset to think clearly. That is to say, I’m grateful to have you here.”
He tilted his head in a gentle nod and the corners of his eyes crinkled before he let out a light grunt. Appreciation. That’s what that one meant. Slowly but surely, I was defining each of his noises.
“Here’s hoping I can be in a better mindset once I sit on that throne. Ancestors know I need the help right now.”
“You do not have to be good or perfect at everything to be Queen. That is what you have your council and your army for—once we weed out the traitor. We are here to work with you and support your reign.”
My heart skipped two beats.
I’d always felt the need to strive for perfection.
To be the best heir, the best daughter, the best friend.
To be anything less was unacceptable. Always had been.
But now, after physically removing myself from the pressures my life and title held…
Well, I’d be a fool not to admit how much that determination had drained me.
“As I said”—Halvar pulled on the rope tied to the rudder turning us around the last bend in the fjord—“you will rule well. And people will be there to advise you along the way.”
People.
I wanted him to be part of that group of people.
He’d alluded as much a moment ago, yet I wanted more.
As we’d discussed on the ship, I wanted him to be more than just my Head Guard and General.
I may have been emotionally spent, but there was one thing that was certain amongst the turmoil in my heart: I had fallen for Halvar Haraldson, and wanted him in my life in any capacity he would accept.
A howl sounded from the shoreline and we both sprang to our feet. A pack of four gray wolves stepped out of the forest, thick fur and sharp canines visible even at this distance.
“Get down,” Halvar said as stone arrowheads appeared in his broad palm.
The wolves spun and started running, loping inland.
Halvar raised his arm, weapons in hand ready to launch, and my memory kicked back in.
“Stop!” I yelled.
“No.”
“Yes, Halvar. Those are friendly. Ragnhild said wolves were visiting from the north. What if they are still here?”
“And they’re about to report your presence to their Alpha.”
I nodded. “But who does the Alpha report to?”
His eyes narrowed a moment before the spikes in his hand disappeared into thin air.
Thank goodness. Ragnhild would never forgive me if I killed innocent wolf-shifters. Neither would her father, whom they ultimately reported to. And I didn’t need a diplomatic incident on my hands right now.
A figure appeared up ahead near a rocky embankment, waving their arm, green fabric and blonde strands billowing behind them. Ragnhild.