Chapter 11 #2
I smile, realizing this is a monarchy based on a partnership between the royal family and the councilors.
The council consists of a few Valkyries, but the rest are citizens whom I haven’t been formally introduced to.
It’s an eclectic mix of men and women. Some of them give me kind smiles or polite nods, but others eye me apprehensively.
Their looks seemingly label me as an outsider.
Odessa makes a show of introducing me to the council. “This is my niece, daughter of our former queen, the rightful heir to the throne, Helena.”
There’s a brief pause, and I glance down at my hands folded in my lap to avoid all the eyes that are now turned on me.
Odessa begins introducing the council members seated around the table, starting with the man on her left, and I look back up. “This is Ashur of the Mesopotamian District.”
She gestures to an olive-complexioned man.
His thick, dark, curly hair bobs as he nods to me.
His jet-black eyes appear friendly as they meet my own.
His long beard is neatly trimmed and braided down to his chest. The robe he’s wearing is very regal, and the dark red of the fabric adds an air of superiority.
I suddenly feel underdressed in my simple lilac skirt and leather training top.
Odessa explains, “The Mesopotamian District is located on our next closest island, Ishtar.”
“After the Goddess?” I ask.
Ashur’s eyes blaze with delight and something else, but he nods. His voice is like thunder as he asks, “You know our history?”
I have to hold myself back from nodding too excitedly. “I do. I’ve always been fascinated by history and cultures.”
His smile is kind, his eyes warming instantly. “That will serve you well here.”
“This is Satiah, the elected councilor from the Egyptian District.”
Odessa gestures to the woman beside Ashur.
My eyes meet hers, and I have to stifle a gasp.
She is breathtaking. Her warm, brown eyes are lined with kohl, and she studies me in return.
Her short black hair is sleek and shiny, the length reaching right above her thin shoulders.
She places a hand on her chest and gives me a seated bow, the white robe she’s wearing slipping down her forearm, and her gold bracelets twinkle with the movement.
“Boudicca, from the Celt District.” Odessa points to the woman seated beside Satiah.
This woman is a queen in her own way. Her keen green eyes crudely analyze me.
I lock my muscles into place so I don’t squirm under her gaze.
But then, as if she’s satisfied with what she sees, she smiles.
The change in her appearance is like the sun breaking through clouds.
She also bobs her head in greeting, the riotous mass of oxblood curls bouncing with the movement. “Our district makes up half of Scota Island.”
Her voice is lilting, and her accent is comforting in a way that Lachlan’s often was.
It’s becoming difficult to keep track of the names and districts of each person. My palms become clammy, and I rub them together under the table. My necklace is tucked under the neckline of my top, and I focus on its familiar weight to work past my rising panic.
Breathe, focus, I’ve got this.
“Joan, of the South District.” Odessa gestures towards a petite woman with very short, espresso-brown hair. “That district is a collection of multiple groups,” Odessa explains.
Joan does not bow or even move, but her large dark eyes briefly scan over me before she stares straight ahead again.
It’s not a dismissal, and for some reason, I don’t even take it as a slight.
It seems as if the girl, or woman, is very untrusting.
She’s dressed much differently than the other women, too, in a black tunic and pants.
I admire her choice and smile at her. A twitch of her lips is the only sign she notices.
Odessa is already introducing the man seated next to Joan. “Leif, of the North District.”
The broad-shouldered man stands, his dark blue eyes locked onto mine.
He thumps his brown tunic-clad chest with a large fist. His sandy blonde hair is shorn to his scalp on the sides, leaving a single braid that stretches down the middle of his head.
I smile at him in response, his greeting impressive compared to the others.
His severe expression remains in place as he resumes sitting.
“What a fine greeting, Leif.” Odessa eyes him, a single brow arching.
He meets her stare head-on before flicking his eyes to me. “She is our savior, is she not?” His words drop like a stone in my gut.
That word again, savior.
She ignores him and waves to the four Valkyries seated together. “These four, you know,” she murmurs.
I smile at Mathilda, Mina, Luna, and Elowen.
“Each Valkyrie is assigned a district or several to oversee with their elected councilors.”
Odessa continues, “This is Marcus, the councilor for the Roman District.” Her voice is tinged with pride as she introduces the man, who bears a striking resemblance to Julius.
Marcus smiles kindly at me. “I’m also Julius’s pater.”
“Pater?” I ask, my brows creasing.
“It means father,” Odessa replies.
So, I was correct.
But his smile throws me off kilter; there’s a genuine kindness radiating from his face. He’s not what I expected Julius’ dad to be like. His green eyes are full of wisdom and not the arrogance that seeps from his son.
“It’s nice to meet you, Marcus,” I say to him, and I can’t help the smile that grows in response.
There’s an empty seat next to him, and Odessa frowns at it but then quickly moves on, introducing the next woman.
“Artemisia of the West District.”
A statuesque woman with tanned olive skin and a strong brow turns towards me. Her smile is friendly, and there’s a hint of mischief twinkling in her lightly up-tilted chocolate-brown eyes. There’s something about her that makes me instantly like her. A sense of such vivaciousness shines from her.
“And last but not least, Cynane of the Pella district, which makes up the other half of Scota, the farthest island from us.” Odessa points to the astonishingly beautiful woman next to me.
She shifts to face me, throwing her long platinum blonde hair over a muscular shoulder.
Her icy gray eyes study me as if she’s mapping out each one of my weaknesses.
There’s such an air of power radiating from her that I have to lock my muscles in place again to remain upright.
The urge to bow at her feet courses through me.
I struggle to keep my face neutral and not gape at her beauty. I settle on a dip of my chin.
A fleeting expression passes across her face at the respect, the severity of her gaze lightening as she dips her chin in return.
Satisfied with the introductions, Odessa tilts her head towards me. “Do you have any questions before we begin?”
I bite my lip at the onslaught of attention from the councilors, but forge through it. “Yes, you said Districts; how is that determined?”
Her smile is full of admiration. “That is another great question. When the Father established our realm, he did not only select the Norse warriors, but also any warriors that met his prerequisites. It didn’t matter if they worshiped him or had even heard of him. They only had to be worthy.”
My eyes widen with more questions, but she continues.
“A worthy warrior has bravery, strength, and reasoning. They are not only brutes with strength, but smart, cunning warriors. Gender was also not a factor in selection. So we had warriors flocking in from all over the place, different races, cultures, religions, and languages.” Her hands wave wildly as she recounts the history.
“As one usually does, birds of a feather flock together, so people of a similar background set up in certain areas. However, we were a realm united for a singular cause, to guard the realm from evil and fight in Odin’s army.
” Julius scoffs from where he guards the door, annoyance creasing his brow.
She blazes on, “So to stay united and keep the peace between us, a counselor was elected from each of the areas that were inhabited by that group of people so that we could meet like this and discuss any arising issues without waging wars amongst ourselves.”
“That makes sense,” I mutter, my mind filing away all that information to study later.
This is the history that she doesn’t want to be taught in schools?
That many people from that many places and periods all in one place, united under a singular goal?
I can’t even begin to fathom why that would be a bad idea.
The stories and the customs they must have.
“If you have any other questions, let me know at the end, and I can answer them for you.” She grins at me.
The kindness of it leaves me grateful for her guiding hand.
She calls the meeting to order, and it begins with Boudicca, who is standing to list her current grievances for this week.
She ticks off her fingers, her tone sharp.
“With the training grounds closed, boredom has afflicted many of my citizens. The amount of ale we’ve gone through this week is astonishing, and someone broke into our stores and decimated our supply. And there have been complaints that arrows are becoming nearly impossible to find.”
Odessa nods and reaches a hand behind her, pointing towards Julius. “Can you make a note to check our stores for more ale and arrows?”
He nods at her request. Boudicca sits, but she looks disgruntled still.
Leif stands next and glowers at the room before announcing, “A few of my citizens have decided to move from the Capital since their forges have been forced to close.” His voice is laced with anger. “They wish to move to Olundy and open forges there. Do I need your approval to grant their request?”