Chapter 17 #2
We get out of that hut so quickly my head spins. I snatch my arm away from Briony, anger bubbling in my veins. The Seer gave me so much information that I can hardly wrap my mind around it but at the same time so few answers.
Odgar rushes toward us as soon as we step into the cold air. He takes in Briony’s fearful face and my irritation. “What happened?” he asks.
I only gnaw on my lip, afraid that I’ll turn into a dragon and spew fire if I open my mouth right now.
“We have to return to Erleya,” Briony says, starting to walk away from the hut as though she wants to put as much space between it and herself. Odgar and I follow as I force myself to calm down and breathe in the cool air.
We stop a distance away and Briony faces us again. She looks between me and Odgar before her eyes linger on me. As if silently asking permission to speak, she lifts her brows, but keeps her lips pressed together.
I stifle a groan and gesture sharply for her to speak. “Odgar will have to know sooner or later.”
She nods, relief loosening her shoulders.
“There’s a prophecy, and it seems the answers lie within our hallowed grounds.
Growing up in the temple, I heard stories of Siad Nahar—Serpent’s Hollow.
It’s no coincidence the Seer mentioned it in addition to parts of the prophecy that involve you and … the other Heir. Durvla.”
Gods, Durvla is my sister. I don’t even know how to process that. My body grows cold, then hot. My muscles start to quiver. What else did my mother keep from me? And how is it even possible? Durvla is twenty-three, two years older than me …
Odgar’s jaw is tight as we make our way back toward the Hallowed Wood, but he stops just within the thick copse of trees that separates the dense woods from the statues of the gods. I halt as well, looking up at him. My insides are all knotted up.
“Your country believes you’re dead, and there’s an organization out to end your life or wield you for their mission. We’ve not been able to form a proper plan to get you back on the throne. Without reinforcement, it’ll be a death trap if you return there,” Odgar says.
I force myself to swallow. He’s not wrong.
“If you return to Erleya, you’re at least returning with protection. I cannot promise you an army. Not even close. But I can come along. Maybe we can be wed on the first day of Amodir once we return home. Before we depart from Uldarvik.”
Sweat beads at the base of my neck. I pull my coarse wool dress away from my throat and slowly exhale. “Odgar …” I wet my lips. “About being wed.”
He looks at me with his brows raised, his posture rigid. “Have you changed your mind?”
“No, but you might …”
His shoulders relax, his arms loose at his side once more. “Me?” His lips curve with uncertainty. “What in Fyera’s name would’ve given you that idea?”
“Because …” I hesitate for a moment. “I don’t want to have children.”
His smile collapses.
Briony looks between us, stepping back as she wrings her hands together. “I’ll … let you two talk.” She walks through the pathway made by the trees and disappears.
As much as I want to follow her and avoid this conversation, I lift my chin and face Odgar.
“Why don’t you want children?” he asks.
I shrug, now averting my gaze. “I have my reasons.”
Disapproval that isn’t mine whirls within me.
“Do you care to share?”
“No,” I say to a spruce tree on my right. A pine cone falls as a cold draft rushes through the branches. My warm cheeks cool, my body following. For a moment, I just stand there, inhaling the scents of fresh pines and soil.
“Revna.”
My head snaps to Odgar, and the weight of his hand on my shoulder slowly registers in my awareness.
I step back, air rushing into my lungs as if I’d forgotten how to breathe for a moment.
Deep lines carve between Odgar’s brows, his chest deflating gently with a sigh.
He clenches his fists at his side but they release a moment later.
“Did you happen to hear anything I asked?” His tone is gentle.
I shake my head, ignoring the sting of tears filling my eyes.
His hands clench again, his throat bobbing. His lips part, then close, only for him to ask, “Do you trust me?”
I get the feeling that he said a lot more than that. I shake my head down at the forest floor. “Odgar, I don’t trust anyone.”
He doesn’t argue, but after a few beats of silence he says, “As a royal, it is expected that I have children. Freyr may be king, but he will never father an heir of his own.”
I look up, staring at his leather vest over his grey tunic instead of at his face. “Why not?”
“Freyr has no desire to ever lie with a woman. So, the continuation of the family line may come down to Valdis and Seth, and … us.”
I scoff, disbelieving laughter slipping past my lips.
“But—” He holds up his large hands and places them lightly on my shoulders. I resist the urge to shrug them off. “There is Valdis. So, if you are truly adamant about never having children, then alright … but can you at least tell me why?”
I turn away and fold my arms over my chest, feigning defiance when all I feel is uneasiness and shame.
“I cannot force you to trust me,” Odgar says. “But lend me your ears for a moment, will you?”
Lips pressed firmly together, I cast him a hard glare.
“From the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt drawn to you. I immediately wanted to learn what made you laugh, what made you cry, what made your heart skip a beat. The dance that we shared … I thought I felt a connection. Then there was that spark in your eyes.” He tilts his head slightly, sadness drifting into his gaze.
“There is nothing about this betrothal that is superficial to me. I would gladly spend a lifetime figuring out what will bring that spark back to your eyes. This marriage may be a political thing, but I truly do care about you.”
His words chisel into the thick ice encasing my heart. I press my hand to the vacant spot on my chest, and the image of Eefa yanking my amulet off my neck hits me. I step back, my breath shuddering, leaving small clouds in the air.
Odgar frowns, but he doesn’t speak up.
I breathe out and close my eyes. “The Seer said that I’m the beginning of the end and the end of the beginning. That I’m chaos.” I dare to look at him again. “How can you care for someone destined for disaster?”
He blinks for a moment as though he needs to process everything that I’ve said. Then a soft smile lifts his lips. “I quite enjoy chaos.”
I turn away. He wouldn’t say that if he truly knew …
My muscles are too tense, making my extremities feel numb and weak, so I shake my arms out and sigh.
“I’m going to pay my respects to your gods.
” I don’t give him a chance to respond before I walk off, convincing my legs to keep moving despite the tremors in my body.
I burst through the trees and back into the Hallowed Wood, where it’s even more crowded than before. Still, it’s relatively quiet, murmurs and whispers floating across the space. Tears cloud my eyes, but I head straight to the Mother goddess.
Many are there praying for their wombs to be opened—for more children.
Me, I face the goddess Amodir—a winged crown atop her flowing hair, a staff in hand. She looks more like a warrior than a mother.
With all my heart and soul, I look upon the stony statue and silently pray for my womb to be closed. Forever.