30. Divine Unity #2
Not the Erling crown tonight, but a delicate, engraved silver circlet inlaid with rubies.
Mother said it was a Jól present from her father, given many years ago.
She’d always worn it to the Feast, and now it was my turn to carry on the tradition.
To further the legacy of our house—a legacy I felt slipping from my grasp every day.
As I walked the few steps up to the platform, my gargantuan skirts trailing heavily behind, I released a long breath, dispelling the weight of those gazes still following me.
This was my first major holiday as Queen, but Mother made this speech every year and I knew it by heart.
No reason to be nervous. Nothing to be afraid of.
The Jarlum—minus Reynar—and their Thanes sat at the High Table, awaiting my arrival to officially begin the Feast. Freyr Ingvar didn’t even turn his head, but Freya Anja gave me a brilliant, encouraging smile.
Freya Vilke offered a stiff, reassuring nod as I crossed the length of the platform.
I reached my seat—the tallest one of those lining the table—and turned to face the crowd.
Hundreds of eyes all stared at me expectantly.
Chin up, the Shadow said, cheerier than I’d ever heard her. I know the words if you forget.
I thanked her, clasping my hands neatly at my waist. Lenn stopped behind his chair at my left. Trygg stayed on the end of the platform by the stairs while Corbyn crossed to the other side, flanking the table.
“Welcome,” I called, willing my voice to carry clearly through the hall, “sisters and brothers of Volmere.
On this, the longest night of the year, we gather to remember those we have lost, and to cherish the ones that remain.
May our revelry and praise be pleasing to Ulrar—Witchdame and goddess of the winter wind—so she might look kindly on us in the dark nights ahead.
May the love we bear one another warm even the coldest frost, and the gifts we exchange remind us of the ties that bind.
“For it is only together…” My voice petered out, choking on the emotion suddenly clogging my throat.
The Shadow fluttered against me, helping me to force it back down.
“For it is only together,” I continued, clearing my throat quietly, “that we will survive to see Summer. So, lift your voices high, and carry our song to the heavens. Mother bless us, Shieldmaiden carry us, Witchdame guide us.”
Every voice repeated in unison, “Mother bless us, Shieldmaiden carry us, Witchdame guide us.”
The call faded into silence. My anxiety ebbed away.
You did well, the Shadow reassured me.
I smiled as I took my seat, and the revelry began anew, louder than before.
The minstrels struck up their instruments in a light, fast-paced jig that had couples pairing off to twirl each other around the center of the room.
A small army of servants flooded in from the kitchens, bearing great platters of meats, vegetables, breads, soups, and all other manner of dishes to spread across the long tables on either side of the space.
Lenn settled in next to me, draping his bearskin over each arm of his chair. At my right, Freya Vilke placed a rough, callused hand on top of my own, patting it gently.
“Well done, Your Majesty,” she said, gazing out over the revelers. “You cut a striking figure in that gown, and you spoke powerfully. Petra would be proud.” She moved her hand away, picking up her pewter goblet.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. Vilke was my mother’s oldest friend, and I’d never known her to shower anyone with false compliments. Coming from her, the accolades sat a little warmer in my chest than they might have from someone else.
I scanned the crowd, seeing some familiar faces and marking the unfamiliar ones.
It was then I caught sight of the High Priestess and a few of her acolytes seated at the table nearest to the platform, chatting merrily.
Lady Estrid seemed to sense my gaze, for she turned away from the dark-haired woman at her right and locked eyes with me.
Her knowing smile sparked in her honey-brown eyes. I’d have to speak to her soon.
The prospect of our journey tomorrow weighed heavily on my mind.
Preparations had already been made for us to leave with a garrison come morning.
But I still hadn’t found the nerve to face the dragons and tell them we were leaving tomorrow.
Every time I contemplated it, I could only envision Trygg’s hands on my neck…
Corbyn’s fingers tracing my cheeks… Which were now burning.
I shook my head to banish the memories, and the lingering feeling I couldn’t place. Not trepidation, no… It was more like?—
Longing? the Shadow interjected, making me flinch. I knew she was only poking fun, trying to distract me from the maelstrom of melancholy threatening to pull me down.
Jól was a joyous celebration, and nearly everyone in the room was currently imbibing in that rapturous bliss.
Garlands of pine boughs and lingenberry stretched between the tapestries hanging from the rafters.
Red and gold ribbon adorned the ends of each table, which were lined with black and silver runners.
Silver goblets and trenchers spread out in front of the revelers, piled with food.
The mead and elderberry wine flowed freely, and the music swelled to a deafening crescendo. Laughter and singing mixed with the bouncing melody, ringing in the rafters overhead and showering those below in a jubilant carol.
Though the sounds reached my ears, there was a wall of stone keeping them from making the journey to my heart—to my soul.
There are many things I long for, I said, glossing over the smiling faces in front of me. For now, I’d settle for a bit of happiness.
The Shadow deflated, and her accompanying sigh swept through me, my own shoulders sagging a bit. I will give you some advice, young one… The same I once told your mother, amongst many others.
And what is that?
Happiness is what you make it, Asvoria. You must find whatever scraps you can and cleave to them, no matter how small. She wisped against my mind and then retreated into her corner.
As if in answer, my gaze traveled down the length of the High Table, tugged along by that thread stretched between us.
I found Trygg standing in much the same position, right at the top of the stairs, hand on his sword pommel and surveying the raucous crowd.
The darkthread twinged in my chest and his head turned toward me, gray eyes piercing even from a distance.
The black-clad servants of my household swept their way up onto the platform, momentarily blocking him from view.
It was enough for me to catch my breath and tear my gaze away.
The servants placed platters of food along the table before us, the scent of roasted meat and succulent spices wafting over me.
My stomach grumbled in response, a reminder that I hadn’t eaten anything since my abandoned breakfast this morning.
“Eat up,” Lenn mumbled. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Got to keep up with those lizards on the journey north.”
My mouth curled into a tight smile that quickly died away. Lenn reached for my hand where it sat in my lap, squeezing tightly. An echo of his reassurance from earlier. I remembered what he’d said, about how he saw me like an open book. Surprisingly, I found no shame in the knowledge.
I nodded in silent thanks, turning back to my plate to try and enjoy the meal as best I could.
But as I skewered a roasted potato on my fork, eyes roving over the decorated hall, my gaze suddenly snagged.
Once again, I found myself looking at the High Priestess.
Only she wasn’t seated amongst her acolytes anymore.
She was standing near the clogged entryway to the banquet hall, her posture rigid and her eyes urging.
I read the request in her face and gave her a subtle nod before pushing back my chair, rising to my feet.
Lenn snapped his attention to me again. “What is it?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, gathering my voluminous skirts. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Corbyn was at my side before I’d fully stepped away from the table, his square jaw set in a grim scowl. My heart stuttered at his nearness.
“Is everything alright, my lady?” he asked, scanning the platform and the entirety of the hall with his dark gaze.
“It’s fine, ” I said quietly, moving further away from my seat. Trygg was watching now too, his grip on his sword tightening. “I need to speak to the High Priestess,” I continued, loud enough so Trygg could also hear. “I’ll be right back.”
His black eyes hardened, two chips of fireglass searching my face intently. “I should come with you,” he murmured, “in case?—”
“Thank you,” I cut in, “but I’ll be fine.
There are guards all over the place, Corbyn.
” Hidden behind the curtain of my skirts, I gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze.
The darkthread shuddered, accompanied by an unfamiliar feeling from Trygg.
“I’ll only be gone a few minutes. Stay and enjoy the music.
It may be the last celebration we see for some time. ”
The rigid line of his shoulders told me he wanted to argue further.
I offered him a small smile and turned away, ending the conversation.
Trygg looked like he might protest as well, but I didn’t allow him the opportunity, only giving him a nod before sweeping down the stairs.
I felt both their gazes on me as I worked my way through the crowd.
The Shadow rumbled quietly, keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings.
They don’t know you have me to help you, she said softly. They’ll never truly understand the power you wield—the power I possess.
Would it be so bad? I asked, eliciting her confusion. If more people knew, I mean. About you. I continued wending my way through the crowd as she contemplated, rippling gently.
Bridja thought it best if my existence remained a secret, she replied.
And so it’s always been that way. Perhaps things have changed enough and will continue to change enough that the knowledge wouldn’t pose a threat.
But Bridja believed the others— anyone born with a powerthread, really—might try to hurt her if they knew the truth about me.
Why? I scooted around the edge of the table nearest the entrance, gently pushing past the masses of people congregating there.
Jealousy? Fear of the unknown? I’m not sure.
The crowd parted enough that I could slip through them and out into the foyer.
There were still people here, but far fewer than in the hall, and the High Priestess already waited on the far side of the space.
I made my way to her, thankful that the celebration was enough to keep people from paying any attention to us.
As I approached her, Lady Estrid gave a wide smile, crinkling the edges of her mouth and eyes.
She wore a simple white gown trimmed in gold ribbon, and her grayish-blonde hair swept into a knot high on her head.
The neckline of her dress scooped low enough to show the entirety of her rune tattoos, swirling down her neck and over her collarbones.
“I wanted to speak to you, Your Majesty,” she said quietly, dipping into a small curtsy, “if you have a moment.”
“Yes, of course.” I glanced over my shoulder into the hall.
A wave of concern coursed through me, bouncing off the darkthread and setting it vibrating.
Trygg stood near the edge of the platform, staring over the heads of everyone on the floor and focusing in on me.
Even from here, I could tell he was using his dragonsight.
I wondered absently if anyone else in that hall realized he’d Shifted.
“Perhaps we can find somewhere… quieter?” Lady Estrid offered, looking blandly at the revelers and servants flitting about the foyer.
I tore my gaze away from the banquet hall and gave her a firm nod. Gathering my skirts, I swept across the foyer, motioning with my head for her to follow me. Most of the activity bustled from the kitchen, so no one noticed as we approached the library doors and slipped inside.