A Fate Inked in Blood: The number 1 Sunday Times bestselling fantasy romance
A Fate Inked in Blood: Chapter 24

I froze, watching the hooded specter walk down the beach, not one of the people working along the shoreline paying it any notice.

Because, like the last time it had appeared, no one could see the specter but me.

This time I didn’t stop to question why that was, my mind instantly leaping to the fact that this…this thing might have answers to the endless questions that I faced about my future. And now might be the only opportunity I had to ask it.

Snatching up my sword, I shoved it in its sheath and started down the beach after the cloud of smoke and embers. I didn’t run, because running would cause people to notice me. Would cause alarm. Might cause someone to try to stop me.

Or worse, given the specter clearly didn’t want to be seen by anyone but me, might make it disappear.

I walked swiftly, smiling and nodding at those I passed so as not to give them any cause for concern, but though the specter’s pace appeared a slow plod, I did not draw nearer. Smoke tickled my nose, the stink of burned hair and flesh making my stomach sour. I could taste the ash, feel the tiny burns from the embers as they floated back on a preternatural wind to char the fabric of my clothes.

Yet for all the creature burned, the wind blowing from it was as icy as the depths of winter, and the dichotomy made my skin crawl with the awareness that what walked before me bridged two worlds.

It reached the edge of the beach and moved into the forest. A flicker of trepidation filled me, because the last thing I was supposed to be doing was wandering off alone. Yet I dared not lose sight of the specter to retrieve someone to go with me. So, gritting my teeth, I ventured into the forest.

Other than the hiss and crackle of the flames consuming the specter, there was no sound, as though the creatures of the forest saw what those on the beach had not. Whether it was reverence or fear, I didn’t know. My heart ricocheted against my ribs and my palms were slick with sweat, yet I forced myself into a trot. Then a run. Yet no matter how fast I sprinted, branches slapping me in the face and roots threatening to trip me, I couldn’t close the distance. “Wait,” I called between gasps of breath. “I want to speak to you!”

The specter stopped.

Cursing, I slid on the thick layer of needles and dirt, nearly colliding with the creature. “Please, wise one,” I said. “I—”

The specter turned.

I sucked in a breath because the alternative was to scream, for what looked back at me from beneath the hood was the ruin of a face. Flames of orange and red ate at tendons and bone, teeth visible through the blackened holes where cheeks had once been. Whether it was male or female, I couldn’t have said, for the only thing that was whole were its eyes. Bloodshot though they were, the green was vivid, capturing me with their gaze.

“I—”

It cut me off with a gesture up the hill, and with my stomach churning with nausea, I moved to look over the lip and into the shallow ravine below. Through the trees, I could see that a small fire burned on a rock in the middle of a stream, the wet wood sending up clouds of white smoke. Curious, I moved to descend the steep slope, but something icy cold pressed down on me.

Heart in my throat, I slowly turned my head to replace the specter’s hand on my shoulder. Flames danced over blackened bones, only bits of bubbling flesh remaining, and yet for all I could see the fire, it felt like its fingers were made of ice.

The urge to run filled me, but I only dragged in a shuddering breath, allowing the specter to push me to my knees. It knelt next to me, mercifully removing its hand, which it used to gesture downward. “Look.”

Just as when it had spoken to me when we’d left Halsar to go to Fjalltindr, the specter’s voice rasped painfully, making me want to recoil. To run. Instead, I listened. And looked.

Wings fluttered through the trees, and I saw flickers of a bird in flight. I ignored it, searching for what the specter had brought me to see. Motion caught my eye.

A cloaked figure stood before a tree. Only their back was visible to me, and as I watched, they withdrew a short seax and carved something into the bark. They sheathed the weapon, then turned and walked down the ravine and out of sight.

“Who was that?” I breathed once they were gone, turning to the specter. “Where did—”

But the specter had disappeared.

I hissed out an aggrieved breath, but then started down the slope, knowing that the specter wouldn’t have expended the effort to show me this if it wasn’t important. I hoped that whatever was on that tree would give me answers.

There were carvings in it. Deep gouges that left parings littered on the moss at its base. Runes drawn in a circle, at the center of which was carved an eye. I traced my finger around the circle, uncertain of the meaning, then touched the eye at the center.

Light exploded in my vision, then Snorri’s face appeared. I staggered backward, the vision disappearing the moment I ceased touching the carving.

Runic magic.

I swallowed hard, unease filling me. Tentatively, I reached out to touch the carving again. My eyes flashed bright, then Snorri appeared again, faded and blurred, drifting in and out of focus like I was looking at him through water.

But his words were clear enough.

Heart in my throat, I watched him give his speech about abandoning Halsar and moving on Grindill, his eyes flashing with passion the way they had when I’d witnessed the speech myself. Then the vision faded, and I was left staring at the tree.

Someone who’d witnessed Snorri’s speech had left this message. Had revealed our plans.

But who had cause to do such a thing? And who was the message for?

Gnut was the obvious answer, except everyone who’d witnessed Snorri’s speech had been from Halsar, which surely meant they would hate the other jarl for what he’d done. Another jarl perhaps? Or…

King Harald.

My jaw tightened, pieces of the puzzle falling together. Ylva.

She wanted Bjorn out of the way, I knew that for a fact. And though she’d said she was with Bodil the entire time at Fjalltindr, she’d been gone more than long enough to have a conversation with both of them. But the true proof was in the runes themselves.

This was sorcery that few had the nerve to practice, but I’d seen Ylva do it. First for the ritual where Hlin had given me my tattoos, and then in Fjalltindr when she’d warded the hall. This was within her power, and she had more motive than anyone who’d witnessed Snorri’s speech, because she didn’t want to abandon Halsar.

“Bitch,” I hissed, then spun on my heels, fully intending to drag Snorri himself up to this tree to show him the proof of the conspiracy.

I took one step and ran smack into a solid chest.

Rebounding, I swore and reached for my sword, only to realize a heartbeat before I drew it that the chest belonged to Bjorn.

He crossed his arms. “What are you doing in the woods alone, Freya?”

Not alone. With him.

Which was the exact opposite of what I’d been trying to accomplish. If anyone saw us out here together, it would only add fuel to whatever rumors were swirling, and there would be consequences to that. “Why are you following me?”

One dark eyebrow rose. “Because my father has ordered me to keep you alive, and allowing you to wander off alone and get yourself killed runs counter to that.”

My cheeks burned. “Fine. It doesn’t matter.” It was hard to focus, thoughts dancing in and out of my head as I struggled with what to say. “The specter appeared to me. It walked around the beach and led me here.”

Bjorn tensed. “The specter?”

“Yes.” It was a struggle to meet his gaze. “It brought me up there”—I gestured to the slope—“and it told me to watch. It touched me, and though it was burning, its hand felt like ice.”

He shifted uneasily, and I couldn’t blame him. “What did you see?”

“That signal fire”—I gestured to the now faintly smoking ashes—“was burning hot. A woman was there.”

“A woman? Did you see her face?”

I shook my head. “She was hooded. But she carved the runes on the tree and then disappeared down the ravine.” I turned back to the tree to point them out, and my stomach plummeted.

The runes were gone, only a smoldering circle left where they’d once been. “No,” I snarled. “This cannot be. They were right here!” Rounding on Bjorn, I said, “I touched the runes and they showed a vision of Snorri giving his speech detailing his plans to abandon Halsar and take Grindill. It was a message.”

“I believe you.” Stepping around me, Bjorn bent low to examine the char. “There are combinations of runes that can burn themselves away once their magic has been spent. Prudent for anyone leaving a message that they’d rather no one see.”

“Fuck!” I kicked a rock hard, sending it spinning into the underbrush as my anger rose.

“Why are you so angry?” Bjorn asked, eyeing me warily.

“Because now he’ll never believe it was Ylva!” Picking up another rock, I hurled it at the tree, not caring if I looked childish. “It will be just like Fjalltindr where it is her word against mine that she’s conspiring with Harald, and you know who Snorri will believe.”

“You think this was Ylva’s doing? To what end?”

“Obviously it’s her.” I bent double, trying to master the irrational twist of fury that wanted to send me back to camp in search of blood. “She’s a volva. She knows how to use the runes. We know she wants to be rid of you, so that Leif can inherit.”

Bjorn was silent.

My chest hollowed, because if he didn’t believe me, no one would. “You think I’m lying?”

“I don’t think that.” His gaze was on the charred remains of the runes; then he glanced skyward, eyes searching the clouds before moving back to me. “But I struggle to believe Ylva would risk her people just for the sake of getting rid of me.”

“Mothers will do anything for their sons,” I retorted, guilt rising in my chest when Bjorn flinched. “She wants Leif to be king one day and you’re in the way of that.”

Bjorn looked away, his jaw tight. “Perhaps so. But my father trusts her and will not believe these accusations. Better for us to return to camp and tell him what you saw in the runes. He’ll come to his own conclusions based on what we tell him.”

We.

My stomach soured, because telling Snorri anything meant revealing that I was alone in the woods with Bjorn. Which would beg the question of why, especially since Bodil had told me not to wander. “I’ll tell him myself. You didn’t see anything, so you need not be involved.”

Turning, I picked my way down the creek bed and into the narrow ravine, which I knew would lead me back to the fjord.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Bjorn’s words echoed between the stone walls of the ravine, stopping me in my tracks. “I’m not avoiding you. Why would you think that?”

“Because you’ve run away from almost every encounter we’ve had since we left Fjalltindr.”

“You ran away from our conversation at the fire last night,” I pointed out, though it was no defense, given I was avoiding him.

Water splashed as he made his way down the stream, not taking the care I had to remain dry, and stopped behind me. Despite fear of discovery making my palms sweat and my stomach churn, being this close to Bjorn was intoxicating. Every inhale filled my nose with pine and the salt of the fjords, and the heat radiating from him made me want to draw closer.

“Bodil thinks that just because she’s allied with my father, she’s privy to clan business,” he said. “So it was her I was escaping, not you. What’s your excuse?”

That I want to lose myself in your arms and I’m afraid everyone knows it. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’ve been occupied with my training.”

“With Bodil.” His voice was flat.

“Yes, with Bodil and her warriors.” Why couldn’t I look at him? Why couldn’t I meet his gaze? “What of it?”

Bjorn opened his mouth, but instead of allowing him to speak, I blurted out, “You made it clear it was not a role you wanted. Denied in no uncertain terms that our destinies were entwined.”

“Freya—”

“Even if you felt differently, Bodil is a better teacher.” My underarms were dampening, my voice breathy in a way I detested. “You rely on size and strength when you fight, but I’m small and weak and—”

“You aren’t weak.”

My cheeks flushed. “Well, perhaps not. But I am weaker than most men, which means that I can’t fight like a man. I want to learn to fight like a woman.”

Silence.

Biting the insides of my cheeks, I waited for Bjorn to speak, the anticipation of what he would say the purest form of misery. I was sweating like a pig, and even if he couldn’t see it beneath my cloak, he could probably smell it and all I wanted to do was jump in the deeper current of the stream and allow it to wash me away.

Instead, I forced myself to turn around.

Rather than glowering, Bjorn’s expression was thoughtful. As our eyes locked, he gave a nod. “You have the right of it. Bodil will teach you better than a man ever could.” But then his head tilted, his eyes narrowing. “Yet that does not explain why you refuse to even look at me.”

My heart skipped, then raced, and I swallowed hard. Excuses sat on my tongue like thorns, words that he’d have to accept even if he didn’t quite believe them.

But I didn’t want to lie. Not to him.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I said, “I’ve been avoiding you because of what happened between us at Fjalltindr.”

Bjorn huffed out an aggrieved breath. “We did what we needed to do to keep Harald’s men from taking you, Freya. Not even my father would judge.”

“Then why did neither of us tell him?”

“Because it wasn’t necessary!” Bjorn threw up his hands, looking away. “It didn’t mean anything.”

I flinched, then tried to cover it by shifting my feet. Wasted effort because Bjorn’s eyes narrowed as he said, “What more is there to say?”

Everything.

It would be easier to shrug and say nothing than to admit the truth. Easier to leave the conversation as it stood and walk away, my pride intact.

Except that would be the act of a coward who’d rather lie and pretend than own the truth, and that wasn’t who I was. Or rather, that wasn’t who I wanted to be.

“It wasn’t nothing. Not—” My voice cracked, my chest painfully tight. “Not to me.” My eyes burned and though the last thing I wanted to do was cry, I could sooner have stopped my heart from beating than hold my tears in check, hot droplets rolling down my cheeks. “I wanted to do what we did. Wanted you.”

Bjorn went still, not even seeming to breathe.

I tried to suck in a breath to calm myself but my whole body shuddered. I was supposed to be a warrior. A leader. The woman who’d unite Skaland beneath the rule of a king. Yet I couldn’t get through a conversation without crying like a child. “I know you know this,” I said, struggling to speak without my breath catching on every word. “That you’re excusing my actions to spare me shame and make things easier for us both. I know I should feel grateful for that, but…”

“Freya.” His hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing away my tears, but I pushed him away because his touch would shatter what remained of my composure.

“I am married to Snorri.” The words came out in a rush of breath, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “He is your father, and while you might not always see eye-to-eye, I know you are loyal to him. Which means my behavior disrespected you both. You were trying to protect me, whereas I…I…”

Then Bjorn’s lips were on mine.

I gasped, my eyes snapping open as my back struck the wall of the ravine. His hands caught my wrists, holding them above my head even as his hips pressed hard against mine, holding me in place. “Bjorn—”

He silenced me, tongue delving into my mouth and stroking over mine, stoking the heat that had already ignited between my thighs. “I,” he whispered, biting at my jaw, then my throat. “I, I, I, Freya. You love that word because you relish taking the blame for everything, whether it is your fault or not.”

My eyes shifted left, looking down the ravine, because all it would take was one of the hunters or foragers seeing for us to be doomed. We needed to stop this. But as he ground against me, any thought of leaving evaporated.

“I came up with the plan. I kissed you first.” His mouth claimed mine, sucking and stroking and biting. “I touched your perfect breasts.” He pressed my left wrist against my right, gripping them both easily with one hand so that he could run the other up my side, his thumb rubbing over my peaked nipple.

His stubbled cheek brushed against mine, his breath tickling my ear as he said, “And don’t you dare tell me that it was respect for my father that you felt pressed between your thighs that night.”

It hadn’t been then. And it wasn’t now.

No, what I felt was the thick ridge of his hard cock pressing through his trousers as he lifted me with one arm, putting me back where I’d been that night in Fjalltindr. Desire throbbed at the apex of my thighs, and I ground against him, hunting the release I’d been denied before.

Bjorn groaned into my throat and released my wrists. Freed, I wrapped my arms around his neck, unfastening the tie holding his hair and then tangling my fingers into its silken lengths.

Why couldn’t I resist him? Why was I so cursedly weak?

Bjorn gripped my arse with one hand, holding me in place against him, his other hand cupping the side of my face. “Not burying my cock inside you that night almost broke me,” he growled. “I wanted you the moment I first set eyes on you. I wanted you in Fjalltindr. I want you now, and tomorrow, and all the tomorrows, Freya.”

His breath seared my skin as he said my name. As he said the words that had echoed through my darkest fantasies about my deepest desires. Not just one time but every time.

Gods, but I wanted this. Wanted him.

The crunch of footfalls on the forest floor split the silence and we both jerked away from each other, Bjorn casting his eyes upward. Neither of us spoke for a long time, then he muttered, “Was just a deer.”

But the moment was broken, allowing reason to return. I scrubbed the tears from my face, then met his gaze, my voice finally steady. “If we do this once, it will open a door. And it will happen again and again until we inevitably get caught. Because we will get caught. Already Bodil is suspicious.”

Bjorn’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

“When Snorri replaces out, he’ll hurt my family, possibly murder one of them. He’ll execute or banish you.” I lifted my chin. “But I’m too irreplaceable to kill, which means I’ll have to live with the guilt that those I care about most are dead because I couldn’t curb my lust.”

If only it was just lust.

Lust I could control, lust I could satiate in other ways, but the feelings growing in my heart? Those sought only one release and they spun wildly out of control.

“Freya…” He caught hold of my arms, lips parting as though he would argue, but found himself without an argument.

“Stay away from me, Bjorn,” I whispered. “Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me, because you now belong to the ranks of people whose lives depend on my good behavior. And if I fall to temptation, it will be the doom of us all.”

Then, because I knew if I remained any longer that I’d crack, I turned on my heel and splashed my way down the stream to the fjord.

—

“There’s a spy in our midst.”

My voice was more toneless than I intended, but it felt like if I allowed any emotion loose they’d all explode out of me.

Bodil crossed her arms, clearly angry that I’d wandered, but I ignored her and added, “The specter appeared to me again and brought me to the forest to show me where a message had been left using runic sorcery.” I explained everything that had happened, only leaving out Bjorn’s appearance.

Snorri had looked ready to strangle me when I appeared, but now his anger vanished. “Did it speak to you?”

“It only told me to look,” I said, the echo of the specter’s strained voice filling my head.

“Where is Steinunn?” Snorri demanded, and when the skald approached, he caught her sleeve and hauled her forward. “This could be another trial. You need to hear what Freya has to say.”

The skald pulled free of his grip, then wrapped her cloak more tightly around her body before asking, “What did you see?”

I had to be careful, for everything I said to Steinunn could be revealed in one of her songs, and I had not forgotten Bjorn’s belief that she was spying on Snorri’s behalf. “The specter. I saw it up close. It was burned nearly down to the bone and speaking seems to cause it pain. Only its eyes were whole. They were”—human—“green. The color of leaves.”

A shudder ran through Snorri, and Steinunn stepped back in alarm as he dropped into a crouch, his head in his hands. “It’s her.”

“Who?” I demanded even as Ylva said, “You don’t know that.”

“There are too many coincidences to be denied.” Snorri looked up at Ylva, ignoring my question. “She foretold Freya’s coming, and the specter did not appear until Freya’s name was born in fire. She appears only to Freya.” His throat convulsed as he swallowed. “She burned alive, Ylva. Was only recognizable from the jewelry on her bones.”

Realization slapped me in the face even as boots splashed in the mud and Bjorn approached the group, his arms crossed and eyes shadowed. “I see Freya decided to return.”

No one spoke. No one even seemed to breathe.

Snorri slowly straightened. “The specter appeared to Freya and led her to proof we have a spy in our midst. I…I believe the specter is your mother.”

Bjorn didn’t so much as blink, only lifted a shoulder and said, “It seems she is loyal to you even beyond the grave, Father.”

“Yes.” Snorri looked away. “Or else tied to Freya’s fate.”

Though his face was expressionless, tension simmered in Bjorn’s green eyes and my chest tightened in sympathy. If the specter was indeed his mother, it meant that all these long years she’d lingered between worlds, suffering the agony of her death. If there was a way to help her, I didn’t know it, which meant she might languish until the end of days. Perhaps even beyond.

“The message was left with sorcery,” I blurted out to draw attention away from Bjorn while he came to terms with the revelation. “The spy is someone who knows runic magic. A woman.”

Eyes flickered past Snorri and Steinunn to land on Ylva and it was an effort not to crow with delight as discomfort filled her face, but it was Bodil who spoke. “Show us what runes you saw, Freya.”

Shrugging, I bent to pick up a stick and then sketched the runes I’d seen into the mud. As I completed the one in the center, I felt a chill pass over my forehead and I jerked away, dropping the stick.

Ylva elbowed me out of the way and knelt, pressing her hand to the eye I’d carved in the dirt.

Sudden panic filled me. Had I unwittingly placed a memory in the rune? If so, which one? What if it was of Bjorn? What if, even now, Ylva was watching him kiss me through my eyes?

“It is as Freya has said.” Ylva straightened. “I saw the runes as she did. Simple magic, easily taught to anyone.”

I opened my mouth to call her a liar, but the runes in the circle abruptly began to smoke, the dirt charring into a black circle at our feet and proving her point. If I could replicate it, so could anyone else.

“Gather everyone who witnessed Snorri speak,” Ylva snapped. “Bodil will question all and use her magic to discover who betrayed us.”

“I agree,” I said. “Let none be exempt.”

Ylva’s lips pursed as her eyes met mine, and though it might be foolish, I allowed her to see that I knew. And that I wasn’t going to let her get away with it.

So it was with great shock that I watched the lady of Halsar turn to Bodil and declare, “The memory was not mine. I did not carve the runes. I did not betray my husband.”

Bodil eyed her for a long moment, then nodded. “Ylva speaks the truth.”

“Gather everyone,” Ylva called out. “Let no stone go unturned until we discover who has betrayed us.”

“Enough!” Snorri roared. “Saga did not reveal herself to Freya to help us root out a traitor. She revealed herself to show Freya her path forward.”

I blinked, because that was the last thing I’d taken from my exchange with the specter.

“Our plan to attack Grindill is known by our enemies.” His hand drifted to his weapon. “Which means that Gnut will be prepared for us to come. Will have scouts watching the sea and the passes through the mountains. That is what Saga revealed to Freya. Not that we have been betrayed, but that Freya must change the course of fate.”

“How?” I demanded, because the alternative was to point out that a day prior, he’d been certain that Gnut would be cowering behind his walls out of fear of Snorri’s wrath. All talk to win support, it would seem. “She said nothing of what I should do.”

“Because she does not control you.” Snorri’s eyes burned into me with utter fanaticism. “I do. And I say we do not go around the mountains, but over them. I say we attack now.”