Page 36 of A Shield Maiden's Earl
Yet as I reached for him, he faded, and I saw the white furred, blue-eyed face of one of Astrid’s huskies peering back before I saw my sister’s face and heard her single, mournful, urgent plea.
“Come now, sister! Come before ’tis too late!”
Then her cry became Ivar’s roar, and everything snapped away except the angry face of Soren’s second-in-command, his dark eyes blazing at me as if he had come for my soul.
Confused, I blinked and tried to get my bearings, only to find myself not kneeling but standing beneath my tree with Ivar’s hands on my shoulders as if he had been trying to rouse me awake. Sten released a long, mournful howl from beyond my front door as if he, too, had been trying to get through to me.
While I wish I could say things had improved between Ivar and me since Soren’s departure, he only seemed to grow more frustrated and despondent with me the longer Soren was gone, as if I were somehow to blame for it.
So imagine my surprise when his angry scowl turned to a look of relief, and he murmured a prayer of thanks to the gods before speaking more civilly than I expected. “Are you with me now, Freya?” He glanced from Brynhild, who had at some point arrived, too, back to me. “With us?”
“I am,” I whispered hoarsely, my throat bone dry as if I’d been screaming endlessly, and it turned out I had been. Enough to rouse many, including Ivar and Brynhild.
“Here,” Brynhild said gently, lifting a cup of water to my mouth when she saw how badly my hands shook. “Drink, daughter.”
So I did, grateful for the cool water sliding down my parched throat before swallowing hard and continuing to gain my bearings.
“What is it?” Brynhild asked, trusting in my powers of divination as much as everyone else after the past few months. “What did you see? You were calling out for Soren, and it didn’t sound good.”
“I have to go to him,” I managed, relieved to find my voice working again, if not wobbly with emotion. Looking from Brynhild to Ivar, I made myself clear. “My sister told me to, and so I will because Soren is…”
“What?” Brynhild prompted when I trailed off.
I shook my head, unsure yet certain of my path. “Dead…but not dead.
“Which is it?” Ivar bit out, as disgruntled as I and Brynhild. “Where is he?”
“Where I’m going,” I made clear again, pulling away and striding inside with them fast on my heels. “And don’t try to stop me.”
“Yet we will,” Ivar growled. “Because you carry Soren’s child.”
“Andmychild,” I growled right back, snagging a dagger from the wall and spinning on him. Though he towered over me, I stood on my tiptoes, went nose to nose with the brute, brought my dagger to his throat, and glared at him. “We are going to save her father, and my husband just as he would for us, and Idareyou to try to stop us, Ivar. I dare you to stop two Helvig Dahl shield-maidens because wewilldrop you to your knees here and now.”
Well aware I held my well-sharpened blade against a vein that would kill him if I sliced, Ivar didn’t tremble in fear. Instead, he narrowed his eyes in return, before surprising me again whenthe corners of his mouth rose a mere fraction and his voice softened. “’Tis a daughter? Truly?”
I couldn’t help a small smile in return, because though my belly had barely swelled, I often saw her in my dreams. “Ja, she is a beautiful, strong, willful daughter who will kill you herself the moment she can wield a blade if you don’t allow us to go to her father’s aid this very night.”
“No doubt she will if she’s anything like her mother,” Brynhild said, her voice shaky with emotion at the news because I hadn’t even told her yet. She rested her hand on Ivar’s shoulder. “So mayhap we should hear Freya out, my friend, for if anyone has proven she possesses the power of the gods over the past few months, ’tis her and it has only been for the betterment of our people.”
“It has, and you know it.” I pressed my blade tighter against his neck. “So you decide, Ivar. Will you hear me out and allow me to leave, or will my daughter and I end you here and now?”
Thinking about it, Ivar’s nostrils flared, and his gaze remained narrowed on me before he relented through clenched teeth, “All right, Freya.” His voice softened once more. “If ’tis you and your daughter’s wish, I will hear you out.”
“Then let us leave,” I reiterated. “Because that is the only option and soon.”
“Leave when you were honored by your husband to watch over his people,” Ivar reminded, choosing to use words and guilt rather than weapons. Not altogether unwise, given his current position.
“Yet would it not be watching over Soren’s people if Freya saved him and brought him home alive to watch over them always?” Brynhild said, keeping her voice gentle. “You and Freya have trained excellent warriors to be ever better since Soren left, so ’tis safe to say they can protect themselves and our people in both of your absences with me watching over them.”
“Yet I, too, was tasked to watch over our people,” Ivar countered.
“As was I,” Brynhild pointed out. reminded. “Yet you were also tasked to watch over Soren’s wife and unborn child, and you’re much better with an oar than I these days.” She gave Ivar a look. “You are the better, more formidable choice betwixt us to see Freya safely to Soren’s side, and you know it.”
“This is no easy journey,” Ivar warned me. “Are you sure you want to put your daughter at risk like that?”
“She will not be at risk if she’s safely inside me,” I made clear. “And not only is my ship new and built well, but I excel on the sea. We need but six strong oarsmen with us, and we will travel swiftly, reaching western Scotland within the week.”
“’Tis swift indeed,” he returned dubiously. “And only if you’re lucky enough to have the wind at your back the entire time.”
