Chapter 44 Freija
Freija
I awoke to a dying hearth and my body aching all over. Those embers looked how I felt: worn out and depleted. Ragnhild had gone home in the night after I’d cried for several hours and been put to bed.
Taking in my surroundings properly for the first time since returning, I found everything was where I’d left it.
As if I hadn’t been gone for the past fortnight.
Books were stacked in haphazard piles, the tiara I owed Henrik rested on the dresser, and the small pot of heather on my bedside table looked like it could do with some of Ragnhild’s Forest Fae magic to coax it back to life.
On the floor beside my dresser was the satchel I’d taken with me south. I’d abandoned it as soon as we got back and changed into mourning attire for last night’s council meeting.
I rolled over and clutched my covers. Damn them. Well, perhaps not all of the council members, some had seemed amenable to listening a little, but damn Karl-Mogens, Thyra, and Marthe for all their comments yesterday.
My mind swirled again, confidence spiraling as if a bad seed had taken hold and wanted to smother any other plants nearby. I turned onto my back once more and stared at the ceiling. I needed to clear my mind, and the best way to do so was to get outside in my garden.
Donning a simple dress and my cloak, I popped my head out into the hallway.
Empty.
How strange. Wasn’t someone supposed to be guarding my— Oh, there was Mikkel.
The man in question appeared at the end of the hall with two steaming cups of what looked like tea. His eyes widened when he saw me.
“Your Majesty, good morning.”
“Good morning, Mikkel. Would you care to explain why there was no one guarding my door?”
A flush crossed his cheeks. “I stepped around the corner just for a moment. Alva brought these up from the kitchens and I wanted to save her the walk.”
“Fair enough, just please make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Halvar would be livid and I wanted to proceed with caution whilst we still had threats hanging over my head and enemies lurking in our tunnels. Speaking of my bodyguard. “Where is Halvar?” I asked.
“Getting some rest. He stationed me as your guard during his absence, ma’am.”
Mikkel proffered the steaming cup of tea. A herbaceous scent wafted up—elderflower, berries, and something I couldn’t quite place. I took another sniff. Was that honey, perhaps? Whatever it was it added a distinct sweet smell.
“Not sure what she put in it.” Mikkel raised his glass in toast, took a sip, and smacked his lips. “But it is delicious.”
My stomach twisted in on itself again, and my head pounded.
While tea sounded delicious, what I wanted most right now was fresh air.
I’d save this for later and drink it cold.
Returning to my room and setting it on the table, I called out into the hallway.
“Either bring it with you or leave it here, Mikkel. I am heading outside.”
“Ma’am?” he said, appearing in the doorway.
I grabbed the wilting pot of heather. “I’m heading to the garden for some air.”
He gulped down the rest of his drink, coughed, and set his cup beside mine. “All right.”
“Follow me, then.”
We strode through the tunnels and out into the forest, Mikkel always five steps behind me, much like Halvar usually was.
But it felt different than when I was being guarded by Halvar.
Where Halvar was a steadfast presence that I knew would spring into action at a moment’s notice, I’d never been guarded by Mikkel.
I’d never even met the man until the soldiers’ return from the north.
But Halvar trusted him, so I guessed I could too. Even if I did miss my shadow.
At least the sun was out. I tilted my face toward it and welcomed the golden rays of light. We trudged up the mountainside, zigzagging along the trail until my garden came into view.
A weightlessness settled over me, and the pain in my head abated slightly. It was good to be back. The bushes needed trimming for the winter, some of the trailing plants needed restraining and the flower beds—
I gasped.
Scrambling across the small expanse, I knelt in the middle of the garden and set down the small pot of heather.
My eyes had to be deceiving me. This couldn’t be possible.
As if by magic, a speck of purple bloomed in a flower bed, one of the very flowers Father had asked me to pluck for Mother this past spring.
It shouldn’t have been flowering at this time of year.
I brushed my fingers across the delicate petals and my lips quivered.
Perhaps this was his way of saying goodbye and thank you for the memories?
Thoughts of times long past drifted through my mind like a panoramic painting.
From early days running through the throne room playing tag with Father and Nora to late night meetings discussing foreign policy in the council room, wine in hand.
I would miss him dearly, and bringing flowers like this one to him. A tear slipped down my cheek and my chest tightened. I would pick it for Mother before I returned to the mountain. She would appreciate it.
Batting aside another tear, I straightened, rolled my shoulders, and assessed the small plot of land on the cliffside. It most definitely needed some work. And now, armed with some new knowledge from Vigdis, there were a few changes I wanted to make to the composition and layout.
I cast aside my cloak and aimed for the bushes at the back of the garden. Toiling in the dirt would keep my mind off the melancholy that had settled in and hopefully help with the headache.
As I pruned dead branches, my thoughts drifted to Halvar and our time together.
From brutal training sessions and his comments on my flailing to questions from him about my garden and what different plants were, memories of us that brought a smile to my face.
Beneath all that stoic brutishness was a man who cared about me.
A man I could laugh with. A man who held me close when I was falling apart or feeling cold.
Being wrapped in his arms beside the fire in the woods would forever be a memory I cherished.
He wasn’t perfect and neither was I, but that would be all right. As Vigdis had said, I needed to strive for excellence and not perfection. Halvar was certainly an excellent man, even with that bloodthirsty nature of his, and he made me happy, more so than anyone else had in a long time if ever.
I want him.
I choose him.
I can choose my own happiness.
“I don’t need to be perfect,” I muttered to myself where I knelt in front of a berry bush. Hearing the words out loud made them feel more powerful. “I don’t need to be perfect.”
Those words were true. The more and more they ran through my mind, the stronger they took hold.
Like the crawling plants on the cliff’s edge, they latched on to me.
I didn’t need to be perfect to be Queen.
I needed to strive for excellence in my policy-making and how I went about helping the Fjell Fae, but I didn’t need perfection. I needed to be me.
Not the Freija who bent to the will of the Council.
Not the Freija who wouldn’t dare step out of line.
Not the Freija who would follow traditions because that would keep others happy.
I needed to be the Freija who’d grown over the years and bloomed on her recent venture away from the mountain.
Me.
Pure and simple and far from perfect.
My shoulders relaxed and I could mentally hear Vigdis and Ragnhild both applauding me for coming to the realization.
I was Queen of the Fjell Fae, born to lead and trained from birth to do so.
That was my duty and Halvar was my desire, and I wasn’t going to let anyone stop me.
I had the authority and I was going to wield it.
Setting my secateurs aside, I brushed the back of my hand across my forehead, no doubt smearing dirt there.
First things first, these threats and where they had stemmed from. It was certainly someone with knowledge of the mountain and the Fjell Fae. One of our own in a leadership role. Someone with strong or growing access.
The latter had me sitting back on my heels.
Growing access.
New access.
“I wonder if we should question the guards who came with Hans,” I said.
“Ma’am?” Mikkel replied, but remained behind me by the trailhead.
“The threats on my life. Perhaps we could ask them to return for interviews and see what they may have found. They were the latest arrivals after all. Perhaps they saw something we missed? Know the attackers? Oh, and the men who attacked us in the south mentioned people having infiltrated our mountain. Halvar seemed uncertain of Aksel too.” Or at least had done a poor job of hiding his dislike of the man.
“Not sure what you mean, ma’am. We searched them when they arrived.”
My gut sank. What if they’d missed something? Like that ear that was delivered to my bedroom. I shuddered at the thought and turned to Mikkel.
He peered back at me, head tilted to one side, an eyebrow quirked toward his hairline.
“What do you think, Mikkel?”
Something about the silence between us had me unsettled. My magic and gut swirled.
He smirked, opened his mouth—a gurgling noise was all that came out as someone slit his throat.
“No!” I screamed.
“There you are,” a male voice said, and Mikkel fell to the ground with a wet thump, revealing Aksel with scarlet-stained hands and a wicked grin tilting his lips, and a cloaked figure looming behind him.