by Meg Trotter
Maera hoped her confusion at his words didn’t show on her face. Valkyries, Valhalla, Thor — these meant nothing to her. She wished Luka was here to explain. She also wished Luka was here to stop her from making such a fool of herself by gaping stupidly at the prince. It was the god’s expression, Maera decided, when she pulled herself together enough to think coherently. He somehow composed his expression with such concentration when he looked at her, that it felt as if she was the most important thing going on in his life at that moment.
Well, little did he know, she could play this game too. She smiled shyly up at him. “Many in water,” she said. “But your ... soul call me.” She was rather proud of this sentence she’d cobbled together, and from the warm smile that crinkled the corners of the prince’s eyes, it looked like he approved too.
“Well then, maybe I was mistaken. Maybe Thor wasn’t giving me a punishment, but a gift.” His hand moved up to pet the horse’s head, then traveled down the animal’s nose and passed ever so briefly over Maera’s fingertips. Her skin prickled at the contact and she fought the instinct to become flustered at this. She’d used this same tactic with that rogue male under the sea. Even though she could see the move for what it was, she couldn’t help the flush that traveled up to her face.
His fingers tapped lightly on the beads of Valka’s discarded necklace that Maera still wore wrapped around her wrist. “What is your name, my lady?” he asked.
A flare of panic rose over Maera. She should have been ready with a pronounceable name instead of her name of clicks and squeaks. In her racing mind, the word from the god-stone ‘sigr’ mixed with the town name ‘Kaupangen’ and she blurted out “Sig-en!”
He cocked his head. “Sigyn?”
The way he said it sounded better to Maera’s ears. She nodded. “Yes,” she said softly. “Sigyn.”
He studied her with a small smile that made him look as if he had discovered something rare in her. There was a loud clearing of a throat at the entrance. Maera realized she’d been leaning in toward the prince. She half expected to see Luka there, raising an eyebrow at her obvious flustered state. However it was Freydis standing in the early morning light, looking at them with unease. When Prince Erik turned and smiled at her, she gave a respectful nod. “I’m glad to see you up and about. My father, Chief Orm, sent me to find you for breakfast, if you are so inclined,” she said.
“Ah, I would be honored,” the prince said. He stepped back from Maera and gestured her to proceed him. She paused and threw a questioning look up at Freydis. She hadn’t technically gotten an invitation to breakfast herself. Freydis nodded and jerked her head in the direction of the main house. It was as much of an invitation as she was going to get. Maera smiled her thanks.
Maera headed toward the longhouse and paused to let Erik open the door for her. She smiled sweetly at him and stepped inside. This time there were only a handful of people gathered. Chief Orm sat in the high seat between the two intricately carved poles. Erik followed, taking a seat on the platform closest to him, next to an elderly man who was discussing something with the chief in low tones.
Maera was left with a seat further down. This annoyed her until she found that she was the first to be served food. As she relished a piece of bread covered with a sticky sweet substance, she listened to the conversation going on up by the chief.
“We haven’t had time to talk properly since I picked you up in Kaupangen,” said Chief Orm, once they had all started into their meal. “Tell me, how is your father?”
Erik took a drink to wash down his mouthful of food as he nodded. “He’s still strong, despite his age. Just as stubborn as usual.” He grinned. “Don’t think the old codger’s ever going to ship off to Valhalla.” Maera didn’t understand the last comment, but liked the tone of teasing fondness the prince had when speaking of his father.
The chief chuckled. “My own father was the same. He was the oldest in the whole village by quite a margin when he finally passed. He was in the Battle of Hafrsfjord with your father when his time came.”
“A fierce battle, I’ve been told,” Erik said. “I was not yet old enough to hold a sword then, or I would have been honored to have fought beside such a warrior. Your father brought great honor to his family and did a great service for mine. And here you’ve nursed me back from the brink of death. We are in debt to you, truly.”
The chief nodded and took a sip from his own cup. “We’re honored to serve, your highness. If it is not too forward of me to ask now that we are among trusted friends, what were you doing in this part of the country?”
Erik’s expression remained open and friendly. “I’d be happy to tell you. I’ve been reaching out to my father’s supporters lately. You may not have heard, but father has confirmed that he intends to pass the rule to me when the time comes.”
“Despite your brother Haakon’s objections?”
This time, Erik’s easygoing demeanor slipped for just a heartbeat. If Maera hadn’t been absently studying the lines of his face at the time, she would have missed it. His smile was a fraction tighter when he replied. “Yes, after considering that Haakon renounced the old ways and embraced a new god, my father felt it right to keep a proper Thor-fearing ruler on the throne.” He briefly touched a pendant hanging at his chest from a thin chain around his neck. It was a silver hammer, similar to the one that Valka had gotten from Skarde, but about twice the size.
Chief Orm grunted his approval of this. “Well, you can count on our support, Erik.”
“Thank you. I never doubted you for a moment.” He chewed thoughtfully before adding, “And there is one more thing I’ve been ... scouting out in my travels.” He smiled, almost self-consciously, as he studied the contents of his plate a moment. His eyes finally rose. “As I am to be crowned king in the fairly near future, I’m in need of a wife.”
Maera felt a little thrill at this, but kept her expression neutral.
The chief chuckled. “Well, of course. You must start thinking about heirs yourself.” He motioned to Freydis who sank a hand-width lower in her seat. “Please take into consideration my own daughter. Freydis is a lovely and smart girl. Just this past month, she kept the whole village under her wise leadership while I and a few of the other men were away on an ... expedition.” He paused, seeming to judge the prince’s reaction to this. When he saw nothing but polite interest, he continued. “I am sure you have many alliances to consider, of course. But please keep her in mind.”
Erik nodded, however when he raised his eyes from his plate, his gaze landed on Maera. “Thank you. I will.”
Maera was just starting to feel herself flush again under his intense gaze when the door opened. Luka walked in as casually as if it were his own house. Nobody else seemed to notice him as he picked up a bowl from a serving girl’s hands and crossed the floor to plop himself next to Maera. He had dark circles under his eyes this morning. He dug into the food without comment to anyone, and no one looked his way.
“How long before you need to head back?” Chief Orm asked, as if nothing had happened.
Erik pulled his lingering gaze away from Maera. “I’ll give it a couple of weeks. Make sure the storms are all well and truly gone. If I can impose on your hospitality that long, of course.”
“Yes, of course.”
When the talk dissolved into more niceties, Luka leaned over to Maera and muttered, “So, what did I miss?”
Maera smiled when the prince’s gaze cut back to her. She tipped back her mug and took a swing before clicking quietly, Me, on the way to winning our bet.
Chapter 11
Despite the promising start, the next few days proved to be less encouraging. Erik spent much of his time down at the docks with the other men. They recovered the capsized ship and dragged what remained of it ashore. Since then, the prince’s days had been devoted the painstaking process of seeing what they had and what they needed to make repairs. Maera made several attempts to visit, but hadn’t gotten the chance to do much more t
han bring Prince Erik a drink before being run off by the other gods who didn’t want her underfoot. Erik always had a smile and that intense stare that he moved from her head to her toes each time she came, so the annoyance of the other gods didn’t intimidate her as much as it might have otherwise.
After several days of not getting much more than a word of thanks from her prince, Maera had resigned herself to spend her time with Valka and Freydis until the ship repairs were complete. Today, they sat outside, enjoying the bright sunshine that brought the chilly temperatures up to be tolerably warm when they weren’t in the shade.
Valka chatted away while working on sewing together a brilliant red dress. Freydis listened while absently examining the rough cloak clasp she had made at the blacksmith forge. Luka had joined them today too, in female form, and was sitting beside Maera while twisting a handful of colored threads into an intricately patterned belt. Maera had picked up a set of threads of her own to try her hand at weaving, but so far had mostly created tangles.
“Oh, you have my beads?” Valka said, noticing the strand around Maera’s wrist. She smiled when Maera looked embarrassed. “They’re pretty on you. I should have offered them to you in the first place instead of leaving them in the sand.” She absently tapped the hammer pendant that was around her own neck. “I can’t believe it’s almost time for the Winter Nights Festival, can you?” Valka asked, her eyes shining with excitement. “I hope the weather stays this mild.”
Freydis gave a grunt of agreement. She pulled out a small metal pick from one of the pockets of her dress and started etching a design into her freshly made clasp. Maera watched, distracted, until Valka reached over and tapped Maera’s hand. Valka pointed to the threads in Maera’s work that had obviously been done wrong, disrupting the pattern she had been making. Maera made an exasperated sound and dropped the mess of threads in her lap, rubbing her now free hands over her face in frustration. Luka smirked, but kept her comments to herself for once. She simply continued on her own piece.
Valka ignored the outburst and turned her hands back to her own work. “Skarde’s been dropping around my house often, asking to speak to my father.”
Freydis looked up from her work. “Speaking to your father?”
The other goddess gave a small smile and nodded. “Neither of them have told me why, but I think ... I think he may be negotiating a dowry.”
Freydis was silent for a long while before she sniffed and started etching again. “I didn’t realize you were that interested in him.”
“Well, he’s been kind, and comes from a good family.” Valka shrugged. “It’s time for me to settle down and start a family of my own. People are starting to talk.” She paused, then added. “I hear that one of his cousins has shown interest in you.”
Freydis pinched her lips together. “Not interested, thank you.”
Valka looked up from her stitching with a gentle expression. "I know your fiancé’s death was incredibly hard, Freydis, but maybe you should consider moving on? You’re going to need sons and daughters to care for you and—"
“I can take care of myself,” Freydis snapped.
An awkward silence fell over the group. Maera fiddled with a loose end of her thread, not sure if she should attempt to add to the conversation. Fortunately, voices from downwind caught everyone’s attention and they all looked up to see a group of the gods heading up from the beach. They were sweaty and smudged with the grime of their work, but seemed to be in good spirits. Most of them broke off to take paths to other farms, but a pair noticed the girls sitting up against Freydis’ family longhouse and headed that way. When they got a little closer, Maera saw it was both Skarde and Erik.
“Careful, you’re starting to drool,” muttered Luka while tugging a thread tight in her fabric, finishing off her belt.
“Can blame me?” Maera replied. She’d been practicing her human speech and trying to get in the habit of using it more, especially when she and Luka were in public.
As Erik neared, talking with Skarde, he pulled off his dirty shirt, displaying an impressively muscled chest. He laughed at something Skarde said and tossed the shirt at him. When he finally turned his attention to Maera, his open smile had become tinged with that intense look again, as if he had been distracted by her and now couldn’t wait to reach her side.
Luka let out a low whistle. “Hot damn,” she muttered. “Okay, I see the appeal.”
Maera giggle-snorted before covering her mouth and nose with one hand to compose herself. When she glanced over at Luka, she found the witch still giving Erik an appraising look as the prince continued toward them. She dropped her hand with a laugh and slapped at Luka’s shoulder. “Hey, claimed,” she reminded Luka, pointing to herself.
“I don’t see your name on him anywhere, Sigyn.” Luka drew out the name with exaggeration. When Maera had told the witch about her new goddess name, Luka had immediately told her it sounded like some kind of disease. Luka had been using every chance she’d gotten to mock it. “I’m reasonably attractive,” Luka said. “I think I have a chance at snagging him.”
Maera shoved her with a grin. It was true, she had to admit. Luka would make a lovely rival. Hopefully she wouldn’t choose to make it a competition.
They fell silent when the gods approached. Skarde went straight to Valka and greeted her with a kiss to her forehead before dropping down to sit beside her. Erik stopped in front of Maera. “I missed your daily water offering today,” he said with a smile.
Maera grinned back at him. There was a moment of silence, and then she elbowed Luka in the ribs. When the witch didn’t move, she elbowed her again, hard. Luka sighed dramatically, but stood and moved to sit beside Freydis instead. Erik chuckled a little, as if embarrassed, and then seated himself next to Maera. She beamed up at him.
Skarde’s eyes dropped to the work in Valka’s lap. “Ah, that’s beautiful,” he said, nodding approvingly. “What color were you going to add to the bottom there?”
Valka smiled and held it up for him to better admire. “I was thinking green.”
He nodded. “That would look nice. Or blue, to match your eyes.”
As Valka considered this, Freydis cleared her throat and changed the subject. “So, how is the boat repair coming along?” She directed her question toward the prince.
Erik kicked back, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Maera caught herself admiring them. She glanced over at Luka and saw the witch doing the same. They met each other’s eyes, and Maera had to turn away to stifle a laugh. She turned it into an unconvincing cough.
“Not as bad as we feared, I think,” Erik said to Freydis. “We patched up the damage and are now waiting for everything to set. We’ll get to take it easy for the rest of the day. Too bad it takes that long to dry though. It’s a perfect day to be out on the water.”
“Skarde has some small boats,” Valka piped up. She looked up at him from where she was weaving blue thread into her cloth. She paused, as if realizing it was rude to volunteer someone else’s property, but he smiled and nodded.
“Three boats. Helped make them myself, actually.” He draped an arm around Valka and looked out at the others. His gaze seemed to hover on Freydis for a moment longer than anyone else. “Should we spend a few hours out on the water?”
Freydis glanced behind her at the longhouse. “I don’t know that my father would like me gallivanting off when-”
“I think I can convince him to grant you this small favor,” Erik said with a smile. “After all, he did encourage me to consider you for my bride.”
“Did he?” Skarde said. His eyebrow quirked briefly at Freydis, who looked away.
Maera narrowed her eyes. Something was happening between these two, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was. Both Valka and Erik seemed oblivious.
Luka stood, snapping out her finished belt with flourish and wrapping it around her own waist. “Well if he’s got the boats, let’s get out on the water. It’s getting hot as a dragon’s ass out here.�
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The waves lapped lazily against the side of the boat as Maera trailed her fingertips through the water. They were out deep now — the waters glimmered a rich, dark blue. Every now and then a fish would drift close to the surface to inspect her fingers before darting away.
Birds squawked overhead, startling Maera out of a near doze in the warm sunshine and cool breeze. She looked up, watching the flock coast overhead before landing, with a splash, to float on the surface of the sea a little ways off.
Maera’s eyes flicked back to Erik, who paused in his rowing to observe the birds. A strand of blond hair drooped away from the rest, falling into his eyes. He gave his head a jerk in attempt to toss it away, but merely succeeded in dislodging more hair to fall into his eyes. There was something rather attractive about the gesture. The prince noticed her attention and grinned, giving her that look again that made her forget who she was and what she was trying to accomplish.
“Ooop, riptide, watch out!” Luka’s voice shouted. Maera looked up just in time to see the second boat barreling towards them. She yanked her hand out of the water and caught the nose of the little boat that had been ready to crash into hers. The momentum of the other boat pushed it up alongside Maera and Erik’s, where she came face-to-face with the smug smile of the witch.
“Sorry,” Luka grinned as the boat scratched alongside of theirs. “Freak tide there. Boat got away from us.” Freydis, in the back of the boat, raised an eyebrow at her boating partner. Maera glared at Luka, who feigned an innocent expression.
Erik touched Maera’s arm to catch her attention, and nodded out at the birds out on the water. “Keep your eye there, and you’ll see something really impressive in a few minutes.”
She nodded at him, but when he turned his attention that way, she gave the side of Luka’s boat a shove downward, sending it tipping precariously. Luka let out a small squeak as she nearly toppled headfirst into the water, and worked to steady the boat with Freydis. Maera turned her attention back to the birds while trying to keep her face clear of the smirk that threatened to creep up at the sound of Luka’s muttered cursing.