Chapter 51 Freija #2
“You are as precious as the blooms you tend in your garden, and as fierce as the warriors who came before you. I have no doubt that you will do well, my darling girl.” He cleared his throat and took a step back, before reverting to his kingly voice.
“Freija, daughter of mine, you have sworn the oath to the mountain and the fae. Do you promise to also protect this Temple, the birthplace of our kind, and use the magic we grant you for others and the well-being of the fae?”
I swallowed and straightened. “I promise.”
“Then, on behalf of the ancestors, I grant thee my own powers, as my father granted me. May you use them well.” He set his hand atop the pedestal beside mine, and a burst of silver light filled the space.
Heat flooded every cell of my body like someone had poured molten lava through my veins, and I screamed.
The room flashed silver again and again and again.
The current never abating. How much were they giving me?
I’d known Father was powerful, but this was so much more than I’d expected.
My knees buckled and I dropped to the ground, chest heaving, sweat beading across my brow. The crown clattered to the floor beside the pedestal, the stone flashing as much as the room around me. I bowed my head, arching my back through the pain, and… it stopped. Blessed mercy. It stopped.
Ragged breaths shot from my mouth, and I took a moment to gather myself before looking up.
They were all gone. Each of my ancestors had disappeared, save for one.
“Use it wisely.” Father smiled warmly. “Protect our home, Freija.”
“I will.”
The vision of my father stepped backward and slowly vanished as if he’d never been there. I reached out and pressed my other hand to the pedestal to steady myself. The room flashed silver again, before slowly fading back to normal.
The air suddenly felt less charged, calmer. Like I hadn’t been here during that entire conversation. Which, if my studies were to be believed, was true. When communing with the ancestors you were in both places at once—here and there.
I peered down at my arms and pulled up my sleeves. There were no scars, no signs of a transfer of magic—which, outside of this particular ceremony, was forbidden by the ancestors and usually left nasty marks.
My magic! I turned my focus inward. That too felt different.
Where the room now felt calmer, the ever-present ball of power that had lived within me my entire life now pulsed harder.
There was something else there too. A sensation that beat like a heart, yet didn’t match the rhythm of my own.
I sucked in another breath as realization dawned.
It was them, the mountain and the fae. I could sense every single one.
My goodness, they were all there, each one a separate thread in a net of hundreds.
And they were mine to care for. To protect.
“I won’t let you down,” I said to the small twinkling lights that had returned.
They skittered from one side of the room to the other.
I needed to leave here.
I needed to tell someone.
I wanted to tell him.
Plucking the crown from the floor, I set it back atop my hair and turned to the door. The heavy stone triangle shifted out of its grooves with a hefty tug. Stepping out into the cool air of the tomb, I looked around and found Halvar leaning against the wall.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
I nodded. “Magic successfully recycled to me.”
He pushed off the wall and brushed a loosened strand of hair off my forehead. “I knew they would. Are you feeling well?”
“Unharmed and a tad more powerful than when I entered.” Which was certainly going to take some getting used to.
“Good. Where to next?”
“To Father’s old room. There is something I need to find.”
Standing beside the council table, I pointed toward the monarch’s chambers. “I have yet to return since they removed him.”
“You want to go in there together?”
“Yes, please.” I needed to find that book.
He extended his hand, and I took it, letting him support me. Crossing the room together, I set my hand on the door knob, twisted, and pushed it open.
The room had been cleared for the most part—probably Mother and Alva’s doing—but signs of Father still remained.
From the decanters on the small meeting table to the large Viking shield hanging above the fireplace.
An ethereal glow settled over the scrolls and tomes that filled the wide shelves at the rear of the room.
“Will you move in here?” Halvar asked as we stepped inside and closed the door behind us.
“Eventually,” I replied with a sigh. It was still too soon, still felt a little too much like Father’s space. And I wanted Mother to have more time to grieve before there was another upheaval. No, there was no need for me to move quite yet. I’d take my time.
I crossed the grand space and headed for the shelf Father had told me about—second bookshelf from the left, third shelf.
Sure enough, there sat a purple leather-bound journal, its spine more worn than its neighbors and missing any title information.
I reached out and plucked it from its perch.
It was weighty in my hand, a few pages sticking out at odd angles, notes thrown in like addendum or source material.
It felt like a link to history and him. A part of him that continued, that I could visit whenever I needed. My chest shuddered and I blinked back a few tears that threatened to spill.
“What’s that?” Halvar asked, coming up behind me.
“Advice,” I whispered.
He let out an understanding hum. “Valuable.”
I was sure it would be a good read, potentially highly emotional.
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I decided to save it for a day when I felt mentally stronger.
Today was certainly not that day. Placing it back on the shelf, I turned to find Halvar watching me.
He held his hands behind his back, a soft quizzical look on his face.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“How beautiful you are.”
I felt my cheeks pink. “Stop.”
“No.”
Oh, he was going to be trouble now that I’d got him out of his shell a bit. His arms wrapped around me and tugged me closer. I spun and splayed my hands across his chest. “Just promise me one thing.”
“Anything,” he said. “Whatever you want.”
“If you ever have a concern, you tell me. Don’t worry that you might hurt me.”
“You have my word.”
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too.”
Matching smiles blossomed across our faces.
Into this journey as Queen I would take all the advice I’d garnered over the years, and that which I’d found more recently.
To strive for excellence and not perfection, as Vigdis has taught me.
To show no fear, no relenting, and no remorse, as Ragnhild always said.
And, lastly, to be as fierce as my warrior ancestors, as Father reminded me.
For with that, I’d find more peace on this path as a leader.
A path I, thankfully, wouldn’t walk alone.
I would also take the man I loved.
Until the ancestors called us home.