A Fate Inked in Blood: The number 1 Sunday Times bestselling fantasy romance
A Fate Inked in Blood: Chapter 32

I abandoned Bjorn’s mount just past Selvegr, for the gelding kept trying to bite me, and I knew that I had all the head start I needed.

Then I rode my mare as hard as my anger rode me.

Visions of how the confrontation would play out repeated through my head. Of the things I’d say to the lady of Halsar. Of the ways I could kill her. Of the curses I might spit upon her when the deed was done.

A part of me, deep down, knew this wasn’t right. Knew that I was allowing the darker half of me to have the sort of control that I might one day come to regret, but it was better than the alternative. Better than remembering the last things I’d said to my mother. Better than watching Skade’s arrow punch through her chest. Far better than watching the light go out of her eyes and knowing that it was because of me.

The trail reached the end of the fjord, the northern strait stretching out before me, the water steely blue and covered by whitecaps. I searched for signs of Skade’s blue-striped sails but saw nothing other than small fishing vessels on the water as I cut down the coast. Waves crashed against the rocky beach, gulls shrieking overhead as they dived and fought over scraps flung onto the rocks by the water.

I made better time than Bjorn and I had in the darkness coming here, but my mare was still laboring hard by the time I reached the inlet into which the river Torne flowed, the town bearing the same name on the northern banks. The gates were open, and I trotted my mare inside, heading toward the stable. “I need to trade for a fresh horse,” I said to the man cleaning out a stall.

He eyed my winded animal and, knowing that I didn’t have much time before Bjorn caught up to me, I dug a piece of silver out of my pocket and held it up. “Now.”

The man moved swiftly to retrieve a tall gelding, and I dismounted, leaving him to swap the tack from one horse to the other. I dimly watched the people of the town going about their business. Women bargaining in the market. Men loitering in front of the mead hall, cups in hand. Children chasing chickens and goats through the muddy streets. This town supplied Grindill, was vitally connected to it, yet if the battle and change of rule had made an impact on this place, I couldn’t see it. Life went on, their cares for putting food on the table and shelter over their children’s heads, not for which lord claimed what title in the fortress on the hill.

“I’ll take that silver,” the man said, snapping me from my thoughts, and I handed the coin over before mounting the gelding.

I followed the road that ran parallel to the river at a fast canter, fording the dozens of small streams that fed into it, my eyes on the cliffs in the distance. I could make out the walls of Grindill, the Torne flowing past the fortress to cascade over in a waterfall fifty feet high. Mist exploded from its base, but I drew no closer to it, the road veering south before beginning the steep climb up the hill to the fortress.

The gelding was breathing hard by the time I reached the top of the slope, but I drove him at a gallop toward the gate. The walls were repaired, warriors walking along the tops of them, and I was swiftly noticed.

And recognized.

“It’s Freya!” My name repeated from above as my horse’s hooves clattered across the bridge over the moat of stakes, the gate swinging open to admit me. I rode into the open yard before drawing up my gelding, my eyes skipping over the curious stares of those nearby, hunting for my prey.

“Have you lost your mind, girl?”

Ylva’s voice filled my ears, and my wrath burned wild and hot as I saw her exit the great hall. Flinging myself off my horse, I stalked toward her.

“This was not the plan,” she whispered, holding her skirts out of the mud, her breath coming in rapid pants as though she’d run to intercept me the moment she heard I’d returned. “How am I going to explain why you—”

I swung, my right fist connecting hard enough with her cheek that pain ricocheted up my arm. “You traitorous bitch,” I snarled as she fell into the mud. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Ylva crawled backward even as shouts of alarm echoed around us. “I betrayed nothing,” she gasped. “Everyone thinks you are in your rooms!”

“Is that so?” I pulled my sword and pursued her, satisfaction filling me as she recoiled in terror. “Then how is it that Skade knew exactly where to replace me?”

Ylva blanched. “What? No…no, Freya, I’ve no notion of how Harald learned this information, but it was not from me. I swear it!”

“Lies,” I hissed. “All this time, it has been you who is conspiring with Harald. To get rid of Bjorn. Now to get rid of me, because you haven’t the stomach for war that you thought you did. Except neither Bjorn nor I are dead, but my mother is! Because of you!”

I lifted my sword. Readying for a down strike that would take her head from her shoulders, only for a wash of heat to warm my face as my blade was struck and wrenched from my grip.

I stumbled, nearly falling, and as I regained my balance it was to see Bjorn astride his exhausted horse just inside the gate. Screaming with wordless fury that he’d deny me my revenge, I snatched up my sword, anger and grief filling me, to replace the blade warped from the impact of his axe on the metal. Ruined, but it would serve well enough.

Ylva screamed, but before I could drive the blade into her heart, someone slammed into my side. I toppled into the mud, more hands than I could count pinning me down, shouts filling my ears.

“What is going on?” Snorri roared, and I choked around a mouthful of mud and horse shit, “She’s a traitor!”

Hands jerked me upright and I coughed and spat, trying to clear away the foulness.

“You told me Freya was in her rooms seeking guidance from the gods.” Snorri leveled a finger at Ylva. “Yet she just came through the gate on horseback.”

“She needed to see her mother.” Ylva climbed to her feet, aided by Ragnar. “Wanted to learn what she could about Hlin so—”

“She told Harald where we were,” I screamed. “And my mother is dead because of it!”

“I did no such thing!”

All I could see was red, because even now she denied it. “Then who, Ylva? We know there is a traitor in our midst. One who was in Fjalltindr. One who betrayed Snorri’s plans in Halsar. One who betrayed that I was going to see my mother. You were the only one present all three times, the only one with the magic, the only one with the knowledge!”

“It was not me!” Ylva shrieked, only Ragnar’s grip on her keeping the woman from attacking me. “Bodil vouched for the truth of my words in Halsar!”

“Then she lied!”

“Enough!” Snorri stepped between us. “I will hear you two in private, not listen to you screech like two fishwives in a market!”

“That’s because she is a fishwife!”

I tried to get loose of the men holding me, and when I couldn’t, I spat at her.

“Bring them into the great hall,” Snorri snapped, then looked to Bjorn, who still stood at the gate. “You will come as well, as it would seem you are complicit.”

Men dragged me through the muddy streets and into the great hall, forcing me down at a bench. Ragnar escorted Ylva in like a queen and helped her to sit at the far end before leaving. Snorri stood between us, while Bjorn sat at another table, face expressionless. Not unexpectedly, it was to him that Snorri turned first. “Explain why you took my shield maiden out of my fortress on some fool’s errand, boy.”

Bjorn lifted one shoulder. “She wished to see her mother to learn more of Hlin. Ylva agreed that you would not allow such a meeting to occur and facilitated the opportunity for Freya to leave Grindill unaware. We had just left her mother’s farm when Skade came with a ship full of men, having been informed that Freya would be there. She killed Freya’s mother and then left.”

Snorri’s jaw worked back and forth, and slowly he turned on Ylva to regard her. A thrill ran through me that he was finally seeing the truth.

Ylva slid off the bench to her knees, shaking her head. “I did not betray you, my love. You know that I am loyal. Through everything, I have been loyal.”

Snorri’s eyes swung to me. “Justify your accusations.”

“In Fjalltindr, when I worried about how long Ylva and Bjorn were gone, I left to try to replace help,” I said. “I saw Harald speaking with someone in the Hall of the Gods, conspiring to protect her child. Someone Harald believed you trusted, Snorri. Then a hooded woman attempted to enter our hall but was repelled by our wards.”

“Why would I be repelled by my own wards?” Ylva snapped. “Besides, I was with Bodil. You know this!”

Snorri ignored her, waving at me to continue.

“In Halsar when the specter led me into the forest, it was a hooded woman who carved the runes into the tree with the vision of your speech.”

“It was not me! Bodil vouched for the truth of my words when this little bitch accused me the first time,” Ylva shouted.

“Bodil is dead and cannot be asked a second time,” Snorri answered, refusing to look at her, his eyes locked on mine.

“Then fetch Steinunn,” I said. “Her songs only show the truth.”

“She left last night.”

Frustration caused my hands to ball into fists. “Ylva was the only one who knew Bjorn and I intended to visit my mother.” Tears ran down my cheeks. “She was the only one, and my mother is dead because of her actions. I demand vengeance.”

Silence stretched, and I didn’t dare speak. Barely dared to breathe.

“I will not condemn you without trial,” Snorri finally said, and I saw his hands were fists, trembling as though he were containing violence by a thread. “But know that Freya’s accusations are compelling.”

Ylva’s face crumpled. “My love, you know—”

Her pleas were interrupted by the bellow of a horn, the noise causing me to twitch in alarm. Especially when it sounded again.

A warning.

Seconds later, one of Snorri’s warriors exploded through the door. “Nordeland forces have landed in Torne,” he gasped out. “Dozens and dozens of ships. They are demanding that we give them the shield maiden.”

My stomach dropped, for though we’d known this moment would come, I didn’t think anyone believed it would be so soon.

Ylva pressed a hand to her mouth. “We need to flee!”

“Was this your plan?” Snorri screamed at her. “Is your desire to rebuild Halsar so strong you allied yourself with my greatest enemy?”

“I did not betray you,” Ylva sobbed. “I swear on the gods, I am loyal. But we must protect our people, Snorri. Our allies have not arrived, so we cannot hope to hold against Harald. We must retreat!”

“I didn’t win this fortress with blood just to concede it at the first threat against us!” Snorri snarled, then rounded on the messenger. “Abandon Torne! Draw all the men into the fortress and make ready.”

An explosion of thunder split the air, the ground shuddering, and outside, people screamed.

“Tora is with him,” Bjorn said. “And most certainly Skade will be as well. Ylva is right—this is not a battle you can win. We need to run.”

Snorri struck out, his fist catching Bjorn in the jaw and sending him stumbling back a step. “You think this is how you earn a place in Valhalla, boy? With cowardice? By running in the face of a fight?”

“Recognizing a losing battle is not cowardice,” Bjorn spat back, his hands balling into fists. “I think Odin would rather seat men at his table who know how to pick their battles so they might have victory than those who race toward defeat!”

“It was the Allfather himself who saw Freya’s greatness!” Snorri screamed. I flinched at his vehemence, his fanaticism, but Bjorn stood his ground as his father shouted, “It was Odin who told your own mother what Freya would allow me to achieve, and yet you fight the fate he saw for her at every turn. You think that I haven’t noticed? You think it doesn’t weigh upon my mind that my own son allows fear to guide his steps, and not ambition?”

“Fear has nothing to do with it,” Bjorn shouted back, and I tensed at the fury in his eyes. At the hatred that boiled beneath it, for I’d never seen that in him before. “It’s that I don’t believe you control Freya’s fate!”

Color drained from Snorri’s face, then in a rapid motion he drew his sword and pressed the tip to Bjorn’s throat. I yanked out my own weapon, but then froze as a trickle of blood ran down Bjorn’s skin, knowing that any action on my part might see him killed.

“Why?” Snorri demanded between his teeth. “Because you think it should be you who controls her fate?” Before Bjorn could answer, he added, “You think I’m blind? You think that I don’t know lust when I see it? I tolerated you coveting my wife because I believed you loyal. But now I see that you care more about ensuring my wife remains available for satisfying your lusts than you do about her achieving her destiny.”

My hands turned to ice, and from the corner of my eye I saw Ylva clench her teeth and shake her head, this clearly no revelation to her. We’d fooled no one, and if we survived this battle, it would be to face the consequences of our actions.

Bjorn didn’t answer, as he was already moving. In a flash, he’d slammed his father’s blade away from his throat, his axe flaring to life as he drove Snorri backward across the room. “Know that you are alive only because I swore an oath not to satisfy my own desires,” he snarled. “But do not think that the gods will allow you to go unpunished, and there are fates far worse than death for men like you.”

“Empty threats.” Snorri spat on the ground. “Either kill me now or get out of my sight, because I’ll not name a coward my son.”

My heart fractured, because I’d done this. I’d destroyed Bjorn’s life, torn him away from his family, and ruined his reputation all because I’d wanted what couldn’t be mine. Kill Snorri and you can have whatever you want, the dark voice whispered inside my head and my hand tightened on my sword hilt.

I ground my teeth, trying to force myself to draw the blade, to do what Bjorn would not, or could not, but my hand wouldn’t obey.

Snorri laughed. “You swore your own oaths, Freya, so it seems both my fate and life are safe from you.”

Thunder boomed, closer this time, and Ylva scrubbed away tears even as she snapped, “Enough. There is no time for this. We must prepare to fight Harald or flee while we can.”

“I’ll not fight for you.” The words came out without thought. “I’m leaving, so that there will be no reason for there to be a battle at all. Let you all dedicate yourselves to hunting me down, but know that I will not fight for you, or for anyone else.” I looked to Bjorn, and he nodded, reaching for my arm. “We’re leaving.”

Snorri said nothing, only watched as we left the room.

“We’re going to have to ride hard,” Bjorn said once we were outside. “We need to get out of Skaland, out of the dominion of our gods to a place where they hold no power.”

I started to nod, then drew up short at the sight of my brother on his knees, Ragnar behind him with a knife to his throat.

“Freya!” Geir’s eyes widened at the sight of me. “They took her. When you came back, they took Ingrid. I don’t know where she is!”

Slowly, I turned around to replace Snorri standing with his arms crossed. “The stakes are the same as they’ve always been, Freya. By all means, walk out that gate with your lover, but the ghosts of your family will haunt you all the rest of your life.”

A shudder ran through me. “I hate you! How the gods foresee you as king of Skaland is a mystery to me, because you are a monster to whom no one will willingly bend the knee!”

He snorted. “This is Skaland, girl. What does willingness matter? Our people rule with steel and fear, and those who swear oaths do so because they know that same strength will be turned upon their enemies. That the monsters will keep them safe. For all your power, Freya, you are little more than a girl-child ruled by impulse and emotion. The gods chose me because you need to be controlled. To be wielded like a weapon, not left to sow chaos. But it seems you need more proof of that before you’ll see reason.”

“Call his bluff,” Bjorn said under his breath. “If he kills them, he’ll no longer have leverage over you. He won’t do it.”

Geir and Ingrid chose this, the voice whispered from the depths of my mind. They’ve earned this fate. Why sacrifice your own destiny to protect them from it?

I gave a sharp shake of my head to silence it, even though I knew it was part of me that had whispered the words. Staying would have a price. Leaving would have a price. Indecision wracked my body, threatening to tear me apart, because I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t see a way forward. So I took a step backward in the direction of the gate.

“Freya,” Geir pleaded, his eyes full of panic. “Please! Ingrid…she’s pregnant!”

I froze.

“I might not deserve your protection,” my brother said, tears running down his cheeks, “but the baby does. Please don’t abandon your own flesh and blood.”

My brother had his failings, but duplicity was not one of them. I had prayed they would be granted children, but as always, the gods gave, then took away in the next breath.

“Freya, if we are to leave, it must be now,” Bjorn said. “The Nordelanders are nearly upon us!”

I didn’t know what to do, and the weight of all the fates entwined with mine pressed down and down.

Remember who you are.

“I’ll stay.” The words croaked from my lips. “I’ll fight.”

“It is your destiny,” Snorri said, then shouted, “To the ramparts!”

I stood staring at the mud for a long moment, then lifted my head to meet Bjorn’s gaze. “You should go while you can.”

Bjorn lifted a hand, his fingers curving around my face as he bent down and kissed me. “Never. I will stay at your side, whether in life or as we walk through the gates of Valhalla. I swear it.”

“They’re here!” voices shouted from atop the walls, and my stomach clenched because for all I’d agreed to stay and fight, I did not see how we could hope to win.

“To the ramparts! To the ramparts!”

The urgency and fear in the voices of my people sent a jolt through my veins, and I broke into a run, climbing to the battlements. The sight stole the breath from my chest.

Stretched out before the gates and rapidly encircling the fortress were the armies of Nordeland. Warriors in thick leather and mail, all armed to the teeth, shields held at the ready. And before them waited a familiar form.

King Harald, flanked on one side by Skade and the other by Tora, who was battered and bruised, the hair on the left side of her head burned away. A sickening suspicion filled my stomach at the sight of her injuries. Snorri’s warriors had never found the body of the child of Thor who’d killed Bodil, and had assumed it had been incinerated in the blast. But Tora’s burns suggested an alternative that made my anger rise, and I muttered, “Harald was allied with Gnut.”

Snorri cursed and spat over the ramparts, seeming to have made the same connection.

Keeping out of range of Snorri’s archers, Harald’s eyes locked on mine. He slowly withdrew a length of white fabric from his belt and, with utter fearlessness, approached the deep trenches surrounding the fortress.

“Such a shame to meet again under these circumstances, Freya,” he shouted upward, the wind catching and pulling at his golden-brown hair. “But for the sake of my kingdom, I could not stand by and watch you continue down this path. Surrender yourself to me, and you have my word that I’ll take my army, get back on our ships, and return to Nordeland.”

“And why should I believe that?” I shouted back to him. “You are the one who has brought an army onto our lands, the one who allied with our enemies. You are the one who offers threats!”

“What choice did I have?” His chest rose and fell with a sigh. “I’d hoped to avert the future Saga saw—the future Saga foretold to her own son—in ways other than war, but my wishes have not come to pass. I cannot allow you, under the guidance of King Snorri, to bring death to my lands, so here I stand.”

“That is not what Saga foretold!” Snorri roared. “Which is why you killed her for it!”

“We both know it wasn’t me who brought violence to Saga’s door,” Harald answered, and next to me Bjorn shifted his weight. “That’s a lie you’ve used to justify your intentions to make war upon Nordeland.”

Snorri lunged against the wooden balustrades, seemingly ready to hurl himself off to attack Harald man-to-man. “Liar! You killed Saga and then stole my son!”

I risked a sideways glance at Bjorn, who was the only one who knew with certainty which man was telling the truth and which man was a liar performing for his army, but he was staring forward, hands gripped tight on the balustrade.

“We can stand here shouting accusations at each other all day,” Harald said, rocking on his heels. “But it changes nothing. From your own lips at Fjalltindr, you intend to use Freya to attack Nordeland, and I cannot allow that to happen. So either give her to me, or we will battle over her here and now, allowing the gods to choose the victor.”

“The gods have already foreseen my victory,” Snorri shouted, “but if you need proof, you shall have it.” He looked sideways, his eyes meeting mine. “Shield wall.”

My fingers were numb, and my stomach twisted into knots as I fixed my eyes on Tora, who’d stepped close to Harald’s side. Memory of my last battle with her filled my mind’s eye. Visions of how bolts of lightning had torn into flesh and earth, rending both asunder. How lightning had exploded through Bodil’s chest. Yes, I’d managed to repel a bolt and stopped her, but what were the chances of managing such a feat again?

“Shield wall!” Snorri shouted, then slammed his sword against his shield. “Shield wall!” The warriors around us took up the refrain, hammering their weapons against their shields, the noise growing louder and louder until I could barely hear myself think.

Shield wall.

Sheathing my warped sword, I placed my hands on the balustrade, watching as lightning crackled between Tora’s raised palms. “Hlin,” I whispered. “Protect us.”

Magic surged through me, flowing out of my fingers and onto the wall, spreading left and right with blinding speed until it encircled the fortress with glowing light.

“It’s not too late, Freya,” Harald shouted. “No one need die today. All it takes is you deciding to change your fate.”

I turned my head enough to see behind me. Geir was still on his knees, Ragnar’s blade at his throat. And Ingrid…the child…if I didn’t at least try to fight off Harald, I fully believed whoever had her would kill her for spite.

There was no path through this. No choice that wouldn’t cause death. “Bjorn…” I trailed off because I couldn’t ask him what I should do. Couldn’t put the burden of this on his shoulders when it was mine to carry. But I could ask for the truth. “Which one of them killed her?”

His throat moved as he swallowed. “Neither of them killed her, Freya.”

“But you said you wanted vengeance against the man who harmed her?” I stared at him. “Against Harald?”

With visible effort, he forced himself to meet my gaze. “I do. But neither of them killed her.”

A chill ran through me as understanding sank into my bones. Bjorn had a scar on his shoulder from the first time he’d called Tyr’s flame—from setting a cabin on fire. Saga had burned alive.

“My vengeance is my own, Born-in-Fire,” Bjorn said. “Do not base your choices upon it.”

I clenched my teeth because that only made this harder. I wanted there to be a right path, for then no matter what happened, I could walk it without regret, yet it seemed a fate that would forever be denied to me.

Murmurs of dismay drew my eyes back to the army before me. Civilians from Torne were shoved forward by Harald’s men so that they stood between Tora and the glowing wall of my magic. Some stood frozen, but many raced toward the gate, begging to be let in. Snorri gave a slight shake of his head. “Hold steady.”

“This is your last chance to end this peacefully,” Harald shouted. “Lower your shield and surrender yourself, Freya. End this before anyone dies.”

“It’s a trick,” Snorri snarled at me. “The moment you lower your guard, he’ll take you and then slaughter us all.”

“I swear that if you come down, my army will leave these shores, Freya!” Harald walked through the sea of sharpened stakes in the trenches, stopping close enough to touch my magic. Close enough for any of the archers to shoot, but he still held the white fabric, and honor stayed their hands. That, or the fact that the true threat stood out of reach, lightning crackling between her palms. “Come down,” he said. “There need not be war today.”

I quivered, sweat soaking the hair at my temples, though I felt cold. What was the answer? What was the right path? What should I do? Turning my back on my mother had led to her death. Could I do the same to Geir and Ingrid?

No.

Except if I didn’t, all the innocent people screaming to be allowed in the gates, screaming for the protection of my magic, would die by Tora’s lightning just as Bodil had. And how many more after that? How long could I keep these walls protected until exhaustion caused me to falter? Because the moment it did, Tora would blast through the walls, and it would be over.

You have to try. It’s who you are.

I shook my head sharply, then shouted, “I am a Skalander. I’ll die fighting before I concede to Nordeland!”

A roar of cheers rose up from my people, but Harald only gave a disgusted shake of his head.

“If you choose to kill these people, their blood is on your hands,” I shouted at his back as he retreated. King Harald didn’t respond, only nodded once as he passed Tora, then joined his army, which retreated slightly down the slope.

The child of Thor met my gaze a heartbeat before lightning exploded from her palms. Except it wasn’t the people below she aimed her power at, but rather my magic. The lightning struck my shield and rebounded, splintering into a dozen jagged arcs that went in every direction. The crack of thunder split my ears, but it was not enough to deafen me of the screams that filtered upward.

I looked down, seeing dozens of people on their backs many paces away from the wall, where my magic had flung them as it repelled Tora’s lightning. They clambered to their feet, racing again to the gate, screaming to be allowed sanctuary.

Tora lifted her palms, and another bolt arced toward my shield, the civilians again flung backward, more violently this time. I howled wordlessly as their bodies were tossed every which way, some landing on stakes in the trenches. The thunder was a short-lived mercy, for the moment it ceased its roll, the screams of agony and fear filled the void.

“Don’t touch it,” I shrieked at them. “Don’t touch the walls! Stay down!”

Some listened and drew away from the walls, while others who either didn’t hear or were too terrified to understand again tried to reach the gate.

Lightning flashed, rebounding off my magic, splintering into arcs as it did. To my horror, it struck some of those who’d moved away. They dropped to the ground, smoke rising from their bodies, and I screamed and screamed because there was no escape for them. No way to protect them as bolt after bolt of lightning shattered against my magic, only for its glowing fragments to replace victims.

“Stop!” I howled, the stink of charred flesh filling my nose. “Please!”

Tora didn’t stop. Only stood out of reach of the desperate attempts of Snorri’s archers to take her down, watching impassively as her magic broke against mine.

Bjorn’s words echoed in my head. She told me the shield maiden would unite Skaland, but that tens of thousands would be left dead in your wake. That you’d walk upon the ground like a plague, pitting friend against friend, brother against brother, and that all would fear you.

Bjorn’s mother had been right in her fears. Right to instill them within him, for before me was the future that Odin had shown her. Skalanders, dead and dying because of me. Dead and dying because men of power wanted to possess me. To use me. And there was no path I could take to stop it.

Except for one.

A bolt of Tora’s lightning struck, and the second it did, I withdrew my magic from the wall. From the corner of my vision, I saw Bjorn reaching for me, but for once I was quicker than he was.

Slinging my body over the edge of the wall, I jumped.

The ground raced up to meet me, my heels slamming into the embankment hard enough to rattle my spine. Then I was rolling. I ground my teeth as I somersaulted into the trench, slamming against corpses and stakes as I fell. My body screamed with pain, but I ignored it and scrambled to my feet.

“Freya!”

Bjorn’s shout filled my ears, but I didn’t look back. Only clambered to my feet and ran.

Tora’s face was filled with shock, and she cast a backward glance at Harald. “Catch her,” he shouted.

The taller woman broke into a sprint, but I had a head start.

You can do this, I told myself, my eyes fixed on where the river poured over the cliff, the thunder of the falls growing louder with each pounding step I took. You can end this.

Tears poured down my cheeks, fear constricting my chest. If they don’t have something to fight over, they’ll stop. No one else has to die.

“Freya!”

Bjorn’s voice. He was chasing me, trying to stop me. But I couldn’t let him.

Forgive me.

I reached the river, a stitch forming in my side as I sprinted down the bank. The waterfall loomed ahead, rocks slick from the mist.

Saga had seen a future, but I was unfated. I could change the course of my destiny and, in doing so, change the fates of so many others. Could save them from falling beneath axe and sword.

“Be brave,” I whispered, my hand going to the hilt of my sword, hoping that my sacrifice would earn me a place in Valhalla as I gathered myself to leap, knowing that the rocks at the base of the falls would make it quick.

The specter appeared in front of me.

I skidded to a stop as it held up its hand, embers and smoke drifting from it. Then fingers latched onto my wrist, yanking me away from the edge.

I shrieked, certain that it was Tora. Certain that I’d failed; but the chest I was dragged against was Bjorn’s. “Where you go, I go,” he said, hauling me back upstream. “And I’m not letting you go to Valhalla without me at your side.”

“It’s the only way,” I pleaded, trying to get out of his grip. “I need to change my fate. I need to save my people.”

“And you will.” His axe appeared in his hand as he pulled me farther upstream, his eyes on Tora, who kept pace with us, her expression wary. Beyond, Harald and his men raced closer even as Snorri’s warriors poured out of the gates, a battle soon to be upon us.

My efforts would be for nothing.

“How do you think this will work, Bjorn?” Tora shouted. “You think you’ll just escape with her? Every king and jarl within a thousand miles will be hunting for you. It will never end. Never.”

“Then let us end it here and now, with weapons in hand,” Bjorn said, and taking two quick steps, he heaved his axe.

Tora’s eyes widened as the flaming weapon flipped end-over-end. She had no shield. Nothing to block it. Nothing but magic.

Lightning crackled from her hands, arcing toward the axe.

Only for the weapon to disappear right as Bjorn caught hold of my waist and pulled me backward. I caught a glimpse of the lightning striking the ground where we’d stood, dirt and rock exploding in all directions with a clap of thunder before water closed over my head.

I kicked my way to the surface, the rapids whipping me this way and that. Waves splashed me in the face as I gasped in a breath, searching for Bjorn, panic filling my veins when I didn’t see him. “Bjorn!”

What if he’d hit his head?

What if he’d been dragged under?

“Bjorn!” I screamed his name, but my voice was drowned out by thunder. For a heartbeat, I thought it was Tora attacking us from the bank with her lightning, but then I realized.

The falls.

Sucking in a breath, I dropped under the surface, searching. It was all froth and bubbles, my fingers replaceing nothing as I reached around me. Kicking back up, I drew in another breath, ready to try again.

But hands caught hold of my shoulders.

I gasped, twisting my head. Only to replace Bjorn behind me. His hair was plastered to his face by water, but otherwise he seemed unhurt.

“We need to get to the bank!” I screamed. “We’ll die if we go over the falls!”

“Deep breath, Born-in-Fire.” His grin was wild. “And trust Hlin to protect you.”

“What?” I shrieked, realizing that he was kicking us to the center of the river. Realizing he intended for us to go over.

And then we dropped.