Page 30 of A Shield Maiden's Earl
Before I could respond, he spun on his heel and strode for the shore.
I shook my head and looked skyward. “What will it ever take to lessen his frustration at me?”
“Actually,” Brynhild mused, watching Soren’s obstinate second-in-command as he walked away. “I think that might have been him finally starting to warm to you.” Her dark blue eye twinkled when she looked at me. “’Twould have been unthinkable for him to compliment you in any fashion mere months ago.”
“True,” I conceded. “Yet still, ’tis hard to imagine us overseeing this place together.” Counting on her, I cocked my head in question. “With your help, I hope?”
“Ja, if you like.” Wiping away my tears, pride lit her affectionate gaze. “As Soren became more like a son after my sister’s death, you are very much like a daughter to me now, Freya, and I will stand by you always, helping however I can.”
“Thank you, Brynhild.” Pressing my lips together, I fought another wave of emotion. I had very much needed to hear that, given Soren’s absence and my own mother’s death. “That means a great deal.”
Not just that, but knowing she would stand by me if something happened to Soren in Scotland was comforting.
“I thought mayhap we might take your boat out sometime over the next few days?” Brynhild suggested as we headed for shore. “I know you must spend time with our people whilst they adjust to their earl leaving on such a quest, but I think ’twould begood for you once things settle, as I know you favor being on the sea.”
“’Twould be most welcome.” I managed a wobbly smile for her. Little gave me as much peace and clarity of mind as sailing. “Most welcome, indeed.”
“I will see you again soon, my friend and new daughter,” Brynhild said once we reached the shore. She squeezed my hand and looked at me with wisdom. “Mayhap to share a cup of ale this first eve alone before you dine with your people?” Her voice grew softer still. Discreet. “Mayhap this first eve without Soren when you pray as you once did?”
“I would like that,” I whispered because I couldn’t quite find my voice. It seemed Brynhild knew me better than I realized. Knew things even Soren did not.
So, after spending most of the day dressed as I was, a shield-maiden for all to see so they knew I would stand strong for them always, I knocked on the door of a small cottage toward the back of the stronghold, finally ready to embrace another part of me.
My long-abandoned inner seer.
Soren hadn’t spoken of it much after I told him I would never divine again after steering my mother wrong, but when he did, it was important to him that I be everything the gods wished of me. Everything my mother would have wanted me to be. He didn’t feel that she, nor the gods, blamed me for her death any more than they blamed me for my father’s bear mauling and disfigurement.
So, for him and our people, I had met with the seamstress when I knew he would be leaving, determined to honor his wishes and be strong for everyone who depended on me in his absence.
And strong meant being both a shield-maidenanda seer.
Strong meant believing in myself and what the gods had gifted me with, praying they would be there for me as I took this first step.
When the village seamstress, a kindly, full-figured young woman with round, rosy cheeks, and a thick crop of dark curls opened the door, I nodded hello and tried to hand her a coin, but she refused it. Saying nothing because she knew I wished this exchange to be discreet until tonight, she gave me a package wrapped in fur.
After handing it over, she offered a small smile, and I smiled in return.
“Please?” I said softly, asking her to place her hand in mine. “Don’t be afraid. I only wish to give you something in return for your kindness and discretion in doing this for me.”
Although tentative at first, when I gestured that she could trust me, she slipped her hand into mine and waited as I closed my eyes. Waited as I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. Inhaling deeply, I prayed to the gods to flow through me again. Empower me. When my talisman warmed, and I heard the telling whisper of my deities in my ear, I could not help but smile, knowing now that they had never left me. Moments later, warmth spread through me, and my ancestral seer abilities surfaced, filling me once more. I embraced and welcomed them like an old friend I had shunned because I had.
Not anymore, though.
Now I welcomed clarity past the barriers of mortality into something deeply profound and mystically vivid.
Opening my eyes, I offered her a small, knowing smile that she would understand. “Say yes,ja,when your friend asks you to marry him because he loves you as fiercely as Earl Soren and I love each other.”
The seamstress’s hand fluttered to her chest, and her gaze rounded in surprise before a lovely smile blossomed on her face, and she nodded. “Thank you, m’lady.”
Lowering my head in acknowledgment of well-received divination, I returned to my lodge, wishing I could run the whole way, and leaned back against the door the moment it shut behind me.
I released a choppy, broken-hearted sigh that I felt like I’d been holding for years. It was the first time I was back here without Soren, and everywhere I looked held a memory. A shared moment. A look of love or desire. Laughter or frustration. Tales of old or new memories just created.
Sinking down against the door to the floor, I held my head in my hands and finally cried. Really and truly wept, knowing I could only do this in private now, as I needed to be strong for our people. Wept for all the moments we would miss while he was away and for those we might never have if he died. I wept until there were no more tears left and rested my head back, eyeing the lodge that would be ours always, whether he returned to me or not.
If I knew nothing else, I would never love nor lie with another if I lost him. My life would become watching over his people and raising our child. Loving him or her for both of us, forever reminding them who their father, Soren Dahl, was, so that he might live on in their hearts.
And I would do that by being everything he had wanted me to be.
