by Lora Edwards
She had always loved being around Teagan’s family, who were so warm and affectionate. They had always enveloped her in the tenderness they showered on Teagan. Ovidia felt that between her parents and Teagan’s, she had gotten the best of both worlds.
When Erik had broken their engagement to follow the decree from his mother and father, the king and queen of Thale, a neighboring kingdom, her parents had remained stoic and supportive of their decision in public. In private, however, her father had raged at the disrespect; their kingdoms had been good neighbors and allies for thousands of years. He had also, in a rare show of care for her feelings, awkwardly tried to comfort her.
Ovidia turned her attention out the window. It was good to be home again. She smiled as she glanced into the windows of the stone cottages as the carriage began the long winding ascent to the castle. Families sitting down to dinner in their warm dwellings gave way to sprawling estates, large sections of pristine snow-covered land stretching between each. Ovidia saw several large bucks roaming in the distance where the land met the trees, their horns glimmering silver in the light from the full moon.
The carriage pulled down a snowy lane up the winding road to the castle, which was named Valhalla in tribute to the great hall in Asgard. It was where Odin resided, the primary god of the Norse people. Ovidia remembered when he had come at the death of her grandfather, the former king. He appeared at the death of every king to escort the royal to Valhalla. She remembered icy blue eyes and a dominating presence. He had looked at her long and hard, and she heard the words she had never forgotten echo in her mind. “Little Valkyrie, you are a fierce fighter, one who will make Valhalla cheer at your feats, but be careful that your arrogance not be your downfall.” She had bowed low, averting her eyes. She had stood only to find he had vanished.
She had been the talk of the kingdom for a time, the small girl marked by Odin himself. Erik’s father had come to see Ovidia’s parents soon after Odin’s visit. The negotiations had dragged on between the two families until Erik’s family suddenly decreed that Erik was to marry a princess from another kingdom. Erik was ordered to set Ovidia aside, and a new marriage contract had been signed.
Ovidia shook off the sad thoughts as the coach rocked to a stop in front of the imposing castle. It was fortified well. The structure could stand up to any siege or battle, but it was also a home, one Ovidia hadn’t realized she had missed so much.
Stepping out of the carriage, she shivered a bit in the cold. Even with the long wool coat, her outfit from the human world did nothing to block the bitter winter that blew across Kvenland that time of year.
Ovidia thanked Olaf as he handed her bag down then she slipped inside through one of the large wooden doors. She would head upstairs, change into more suitable attire for the weather, and then seek out her parents. She had sent word via Hugh just that morning that she was coming. They would be hopefully happy to see her.
She intended to speak to them about their reasons for keeping her in the dark about Erik’s abdication. It was obviously a deliberate act as none of the servants or others in her parents’ employ had spoken of it to her on her infrequent visits home. She was angry, but she imagined there was a purpose—her parents did nothing without a purpose.
The torchlight flickered in its sconces, the magical blue flames putting out heat and light. There was no need for electricity in Kvenland as the magic of the people gave them everything that could be accomplished with electricity. Electronic devices did not work well in Kveland, the heavy magic interfering to the point that a computer or cell phone was pointless. All peoples of Kvenland were born with the basic use of magic, and then just like different hair or eye color, they were also born with some other special power. It was called the gift of Odin. They even had a ceremony when a child was five years old that revealed what gift they had received.
Ovidia had been given the gift of a Valkyrie. She still remembered the ceremony, remembered holding her sword for the first time, it filling a space in her heart she hadn’t known was there. Ovidia patted the invisible sword at her side. It was with her always now, a comfortable weight in her mind, an integral part of herself. Ovidia had been twice blessed by Odin, a rare thing in the culture, and her twin blessings had made people a bit in awe of her. Ovidia wished people would just get over themselves.
She was a warrior maiden of Odin, a high honor for her family. She had used her abilities to help to fight injustice in the different worlds, just as Odin decreed. It was her job. Odin chose some to be warriors, some to be carpenters, some to be bakers, depending on the gift he bestowed on them. Her gift was no better or worse than any of those; all were equally needed to make society run as it should.
Reaching the third floor, Ovidia opened another wooden door and walked a short distance down the hallway to her suite of rooms. It was warm and cozy, the fire having been started when the coachman was summoned. Ovidia sighed as the warmth reached her chilled limbs. She hadn’t taken the time to change into proper clothing before leaving the institute as she had been in too much of a hurry to get home and get answers, but now she regretted that decision.
“I never took you for one who would run from your problems, Daughter.”
Ovidia’s shoulders slumped as she saw the woman sitting in the corner of her bedchamber, her back ramrod straight. “Hello Mother. I am not running, just coming home to have a talk with you and Father. This is still my home, is it not,” Ovidia asked, raising one eyebrow in challenge.
Her mother stood from the chair, her posture impeccable. She was a stunning woman whose creamy skin was complemented by ice blue eyes and long straight blonde hair that cascaded down her back in a simple braid. Her body was well muscled, the build of a warrior. Sigrid was also a Valkyrie. The gift of Odin did not always run in families, but Ovidia had been proud to be trained as a sword maiden by her own mother.
That said, it hadn’t been easy. Her mother was a perfectionist and a hard taskmaster, working Ovidia to the bone at times. Her mother had traveled to the human world every week to help Ovidia train, from the time she went to the boarding school at age five, until she joined the institute at age twenty.
Ovidia strode past her mother without a glance in her direction and began to pull off her modern clothes, reaching into her closet for more appropriate garments. Her closet still held a variety of clothing for her visits home. Ovidia traded her skinny jeans, long silk blouse, and Saint Laurent Lily velvet knee boots for a long bright blue linen shift that was full at the hem with long sleeves. She grasped a cream apron of soft wool, slipping it over the top of her linen shift and expertly fastening the ornate metal brooches on each side. The colorful glass beads suspended between the shoulders tinkled as she bent down to pull on thick wool socks and sturdy leather boots.
She hooked a finely braided belt around her waist, adjusting the leather pouch that suspended from it. She looked every inch the fierce Norse warrior, a picture of a Viking from long past. Gone was the elegant society woman, and in her place stood a warrior. Her parents did not get to see the playful flirty Ovidia. They got to see what they expected: the tough, no-nonsense warrior. Erik had been one of the few of her own kind who had seen that other side of her, the side she let loose when at the institute.
Ovidia came to stand in front of her mother in a relaxed fighting stance.
“Yes, Ovidia, this is still your home, but I am just curious why you have chosen this particular time to come home,” her mother said, lifting one perfect eyebrow.
Ovidia felt fury and betrayal well up inside her; it flashed like lightning in her violet eyes. She was a formidable creature when angry, the fury bringing out the berserker warrior side of her nature. Once that fire was ignited, it was very hard to control.
Ovidia now knew how Teagan had felt when she found out that her parents had hidden her true nature from her. Teagan had forgiven them and time had put them back on even ground, but Ovidia didn’t know if she would be able to be as forgiving as her friend had been. Norse warriors nurse
d their vengeance, holding it close like a lover.
“Let’s find Father, that way I will only have to go over this once,” Ovidia said with a cool stare. Her mother nodded as she strode out of the room, leaving Ovidia to follow.
They wound down the stone staircase that emptied into the great hall. The room was a large stone affair that mimicked the interior of a medieval castle. Two enormous fireplaces blazed with blue fire, the crackling and popping of large fir logs the only sound in the room. Her father sat at the head of a long wooden table, looking over some documents.
Hakon lifted his head and frowned. “Ovidia why have you come? I heard from Armand that you were preparing for a new mission,” her father said, leaning back in his chair.
Always a warm welcome coming home, Ovidia thought ruefully. Her parents were all about duty and the fact that one should never shirk it.
“We have postponed the mission. Teagan, as you know, was just married. She will be helping Hugh conduct the research, and we are waiting for her to return from her honeymoon before making the jump.” Ovidia stood stiffly beside her father’s chair as she explained.
“Honeymoon? Humans and their traditions,” he grumbled. The old Norse tradition of marriage included the two families having lengthy negotiations followed by a big wedding, but afterward they returned to their homes, diving back into their work. There was no such thing as a honeymoon; something so frivolous would detract from their purpose, and her father was all about purpose.
“I have come to discuss something of importance with you and Mother,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Her father gestured at one of the high-back chairs. Ovidia sat as her mother went to stand behind her father’s chair, the pair united as always.
Ovidia sat up very straight, waiting for the nod from her father to start. She was an independent, strong-willed woman, but she also abided by the traditions of her family. She did not give deference to her father because he was male, but because he had earned her respect as a warrior.
Her father’s eyes, so much like her own, bored into her as if he wished to extract the reason for meeting with them. Violet gaze matched violet gaze, and he finally gave her the nod.
Ovidia found that she could not sit still. She stood from the chair, hands clasped behind her back. She paced, the sounds of her boots on the flagstone floor ringing out. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, the only sounds in the room the click of her boot heels and the crackling of the fire.
“Mother, Father, it has recently come to my attention that Thale has had a change in the monarchy, that Prince Erik has abdicated in favor of his brother Prince Calder. I would like to know the reason this was kept from me.” She turned to look at them.
Her mother had the grace to look down, embarrassed, but her father took the opposite route. He slowly stood from his chair, pinning her with his eyes. Ovidia had a sudden vivid memory of being a child and being brought to her father for some infraction.
“Are you coming to us as a member of the family, as a loyal subject of Kvenland, or as a lovesick girl who is angry that she was thrown over,” he asked quietly.
Ovidia could feel the fury rise in her at the question. She should have known this was coming. He knew she loved Erik; even though the marriage had been an arranged one, she and Erik had been close. They had loved each other since they were children. Ovidia reached down inside herself and took hold of the icy calm that had been bred into her along with the heat of the berserker. She pulled her head up and gave her father a frosty glance.
“As a member of this family and a subject of this realm, I believe I am entitled to know about the change in an ally’s succession. It has nothing to do with my relationship with the prince,” Ovidia snapped. She was angry with them for keeping this from her, not because she had believed that once freed from his duty, Erik would come to her and pledge himself to her once more. No, she was angry because if she had known he wasn’t there, married to Alexandra and fulfilling his duty, it would not have been such a shock to see him standing there, so cool and handsome in Armand’s office.
For the first time in her life, they were treating her like some delicate flower instead of the warrior they’d trained her to be.
She stood and glared at them for a moment, arms crossed, not saying a thing, just staring a hole in her father.
“Ovidia, it was my doing. I know marrying the prince of Thales was not just a match of convenience for you, but a love match. It made my blood boil to find that he had acted like a spineless worm. He abdicated his throne but instead of coming to you, declaring his love for you, he ran off. It was too much for me. I did not want to see you hurt. I know we were not the most affectionate of parents. Our ways are a bit harsh, but it does not mean we love you any less. It also hurt us to see you grieving,” her father said in a gravelly voice, the words seeming to be pulled from him.
“Father, I understand,” Ovidia said, quietly relaxing her stance and bowing her head in his direction. She did understand that her parents were proud people, royals in their own right. To the world, they had to show the uncaring face that was expected of the followers of Odin, the face of warriors. Warriors did not admit to having softer feelings; they lived for the berserker rage, fighting, and the glory of Odin.
Her father admitting that he loved her with words was a sacrifice for him, and it was the first time she could remember him doing something to spare her feelings. She would not carry on like some drama queen. She had acknowledged him, and now the conversation was over, never to be spoken of again. Ovidia felt her wounded heart warm, and she barely stopped a smile from spreading across her face. She had always thought they were proud of her, but she had not believed her parents were capable of love like that of Teagan’s family. Now she knew they cherished her, in their own staunch way.
Ovidia bowed to her parents and swiftly left the room. They all needed to be able to process what had happened. She needed some fresh air. Wrapped in a royal blue wool cloak trimmed in white fur, she pulled open the doors and looked down on her father’s kingdom. She would walk down to the village; the exercise and fresh air were just what she needed.
“Ovidia.” Eydis, her older sister, met her at the front door. “Come walk with me. I have some people to see in the village.”
“I would love to.” Ovidia smiled at her sister. Eydis had been chosen by Odin to be a healer.
Ovidia spent the day assisting Eydis. She snuggled newborns while Eydis checked over their mothers, chatted with old warriors while her sister treated their wives. The day spent with her sister visiting the villagers was just what the doctor ordered.
“Thank you for your help today little sister,” Eydis said as they walked back up to the castle.
“It is good to be back in Kvenland. Being here is so very different from being at the institute. Sometimes on rainy days in London, I find myself longing for a cool arctic breeze,” Ovidia said, taking a deep breath of the frosty air. “I slowly slipped into being another person there. I think of myself as the fashionista Ovidia.” Her sister chuckled. “I made myself into who I needed to be in that world. Sometimes I get so caught up in it that I almost forget about my warrior side.”
“I remember when you would come home from boarding school. You were always dragging your feet, grumbling under your breath, but it only took day or two before you were out on the training field, swinging your sword,” Eydis said.
“Once I was back, I would slip into my London skin. I would breathe a sigh of relief that other than the weekly practice with Mother, I could leave this life behind.” Ovidia hesitated then continued. “Erik was the only person I could to talk to about this feeling of living two lives. I couldn’t talk to Teagan on her visits because the block her mother put on both of us prevented it. You were deep in your medical studies, and you had never lived outside of Kvenland,” Ovidia said, looking at her sister.
“But you had Erik. He hadn’t really lived two lives quite to the extent you had, but he had ventured
out into the human world to live.”
“I did, but since he was next in line to be king, he would not be living in two worlds. He was a sympathetic listener. He held me when I cried, kept my secrets to himself. He was my other half, and then suddenly he was gone.” The two women had reached the castle steps.
“You are a Valkyrie, my sister.” Eydis took Ovidia by the shoulders. “You will find a way to make peace with both sides of your life.” After a quick hug, she turned and walked into the castle.
Eydis was right—she needed to pick herself up, take advantage of both sides of her life. The first step was to find her mother, and at that time of day, she would be on the training field behind the castle.
“Mother.” Ovidia came upon Sigrid putting away the weapons used in the training session. “If I could have a moment of your time.”
“Of course. I hear you spent the afternoon with Eydis while she made her rounds. It is good for my daughters to spend time together. One day when we step down as the Rebec’s did, Eydis will make a superior queen.” Sigrid turned to her daughter with a smile on her face. “What is on your mind?”
“This mission. We will going back to the time of Blackbeard. I need some help fighting with a cutlass. I need your help.” She stood with her back straight, waiting for her mother’s response.
Sigrid let out a deep laugh and reached out to Ovidia. “We will start tomorrow. We will get in a session before breakfast. One daughter a healer, one daughter a pirate—life is good.”
One parent down, one to go, Ovidia thought as she and mother returned to the castle for dinner.
“Father.” She claimed the chair across from Hakon. “My mission will be with Blackbeard. I could use some advice.”
“Armand did mention Blackbeard in our recent conversation.” Hakon sat back in his chair and steepled his hands under his chin. “As such, I have invited several of our Viking brethren to dinner tomorrow evening.”
“Thank you.” Ovidia stood and smiled down at her father as she walked away.