The Valkyrie's Bond (Halfblood Rising Book 1)

by Lucy Roy

  “I believe I owe you an apology, Freya,” Jonas said after they’d watched the boys parry for a few minutes. “It’s been on my mind since we spoke last night and I’d like to fully clear the air, if I can.”

  “How so?”

  “I misjudged you at first,” he admitted. “You’re not at all what I expected as the prince’s betrothed.”

  “What was it you expected, Jonas?”

  “To be quite honest, I expected a doe-eyed female hovering silently at his highness’ shoulder. When I saw you were nearly the opposite, I struggled to believe it.” His face was unabashed as he continued. “Knowing what I do of King Salazar, I expected his successor’s spouse to be one to follow her prince, not stand beside him, and it made me instantly wary of you.”

  She tried to rein in her shock at such a statement, biting down hard on her tongue to keep from pointing out the insult to her queen. Salazar was certainly a male set in his ways, but Ordona held nearly as much authority and respect as he.

  “Do you know what I’ve learned about you in the short time we’ve spent together, Jonas?” Freya gave him a reluctant smile. “You’re quite adept at backhanded compliments and are a bit of a busybody.”

  He barked out a laugh. “And you, my lady, possess a brutal honesty that will get you far in this world. I believe your kingdom will thank you for it one day. I do hope we can be friends.”

  “My lady?” Ervic called. “Would you like to join us now?”

  Grinning, Freya nodded, then turned to Jonas. “I respect your honesty, Jonas, and appreciate your apology. I hope we can be friends as well.”

  “It was overdue,” he said. “Now, let’s see the famed Valkyrie’s weapon work, shall we?”

  Chapter 38

  Two hours later, Jonas had left to dive into a book and Freya was crouched beside a tow-headed young page, demonstrating her technique for properly gripping a knife for throwing. Holding her own blade at chin-height, Freya flicked her wrist and sent it sailing down the lane toward the bullseye, then gave the boy an encouraging nod. The page took a deep breath, then pulled back his arm and aimed for his target ten feet away, far closer than the one she’d hit, and threw. When his knife landed on the outer edge, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Freya patted him on the shoulder and went to get his knife.

  “Did you know, Barin,” Freya said as she handed it back, “that when I was your age, I almost never hit the center?”

  “It’s true,” Aer said, stepping into the yard. “She nearly took my ear off twice.”

  The boy frowned up at them. “Why did you have your head so close to the target?”

  Aer slid a look at Freya, who was biting her lip in amusement. “My dear friend seemed convinced she could hit an apple atop my head, and I was smitten enough to believe her.”

  The boy’s eyes widened, then he laughed. “Do you have a scar?”

  Leaning down, Aer tilted his head to the side, tapping the edge of his ear. “Just there.”

  “But Your Highness—why—” he cut himself off, seeming hesitant to voice his next question.

  Aer laughed. “Why did I let her try a second time?”

  Freya’s lips trembled with laughter. “As it happens, his highness has a fondness—perhaps a weakness—for bets. All I had to do was promise him a kiss if he won.”

  Aer smiled fondly at the memory. “Sadly, I had to wait several years before winning that one.”

  Freya inclined her head toward the target. “Would you like to take a few more throws, Barin?”

  When he nodded, Aer stepped back and allowed Freya to help Barin line up his throw once more. After a few attempts, Ervic came over to relieve Freya.

  “Productive day?” Aer asked as she walked toward him.

  “Quite,” she said, smiling. After she and Jonas had spoken, she’d jumped in with Ervic and had gotten her hands into archery and a bit of swordplay, something she always felt to be a bit lacking in. She indulged a few of the students who offered to show her proper technique, allowing them their assumptions that her difference in methodology was due to inexperience and not simply a nontraditional technique. Even still, she was surprised and pleased to find that the upcoming generation of knights seemed quite promising.

  They’d hardly made it down the corridor from the training yard when a voice called out to them.

  “Your Highness, my lady!”

  Turning, they paused when they saw Isadora heading their way. Freya was surprised to see Lessia at the Dystonian queen’s side. Eight guards—two Jotnar and six human—trailed behind them. Freya couldn’t help but smile at the humans’ abundance of caution. She understood it, but even they had to know that six humans, no matter how well-trained, would be no match for Lindorothian and Jotnar guards.

  The two females were a study in contrasts, one lovely and delicate, the other cold in both appearance and demeanor. Lessia’s gown was, again, a stormy gray, with a long skirt that trailed behind her, the train whispering over the stone of the corridor. Her black hair was worn loose, some hanging over her shoulders, the rest trailing down her back. On some, the style would’ve seemed messy or too casual, but paired with her dress and the confident, almost condescending tilt of her chin, it looked stunning.

  Isadora, though, looked every bit the fragile human queen she was. She wore a pale blue wool dress with a white fur stole, and her hair fell in soft golden ringlets around her shoulders much the way a porcelain doll’s would. Her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink in the chill that filled the open walkway, and her lips were red against her light skin.

  Though she couldn’t be more than five years Freya’s senior, she carried herself with a certain grace that spoke of years of painfully formal training on how to be perfectly proper. There were no sword fights or patrols in her background. No, she’d been born and bred to be beautiful and, if Freya wasn’t mistaken, obedient.

  “Your Majesty, Empress,” Aer said with a bow. “How are you this morning?”

  “Quite well, thank you,” Lessia said. She gave Freya an assessing glance, one that lasted all of one second but spoke volumes of what she thought of her. “My lady.”

  Freya gave her a small nod. “Empress.”

  Isadora smiled prettily, although there was a tight set to her jaw. “I just needed a bit of fresh air,” she said. “After being on a boat for the last three days, it’s hard to stay closed up inside.” Smiling at Lessia, she continued. “I ran into the empress on my way to the gardens.”

  “Her Majesty’s mind and mine seem to have traveled along the same path,” Lessia said, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. “I was looking for a bit of the same.”

  “Well, the gardens are lovely this time of day, and as it happens, that’s where I was headed myself,” Freya said, quickly making up her mind. “Would you like me to show you? I’ve got a bit of time before lunch.”

  “That would be much appreciated, Lady Balthana,” Lessia replied smoothly.

  “Indeed,” Isadora said, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I only saw the gardens from above, but they look quiet dizzying. A guide would be welcome.”

  Aer gave Freya a curious look as he leaned down to kiss her goodbye. “I’ll let our parents know you’ll be along shortly.”

  Freya smiled when he pulled back, letting him know she was fine to be on her own with the two monarchs. “Thank you.”

  After Aer and his guards disappeared around a corner, leaving Rissen and Cecilia to follow behind Freya silently, she gestured toward the hall that would take them to the main gardens. “It’s not a far walk from here.”

  “Lady Balthana, I’m actually quite glad I ran into you,” Lessia said, hooking an arm through Freya’s as they began to walk. Freya’s instinct screamed at her to step away from the empress, but she held her ground, refusing to let Lessia see that she was unnerved by her proximity. “I was hoping perhaps the three of us, and Ordona of course, might be able to sit together at dinner tonight.” She patted Freya’s hand and smiled at Isadora.
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  “I’d have to confer with Ordona, but yes, I think I would enjoy that very much.” Freya turned to Isadora. “Your Majesty?”

  Isadora’s answering smile came a beat later. “Yes, my lady, I think I would enjoy getting to spend time with just the females.”

  Lessia sent Freya a reproachful look. “Now, my lady, as the queen incumbent, I would expect you would be the one to make decisions on when and where you seat yourself.”

  Freya gave her a calm, level look. “This is still Queen Ordona’s palace and she’s far more knowledgeable than I when it comes to planning events, so for now I’ll continue to defer to her.”

  “It’s quite logical and certainly makes things easier,” Isadora said with a smile.

  Lessia made a small “hmm.”

  Recalling Lessia’s husband had passed away several years ago and that this might be a poor topic of conversation, Freya moved to change the subject.

  “How long will you both be staying in Iladel? Do you have plans to travel more, now that you’re here?”

  Lessia sighed. “It’s been some time since I’ve been this far south, but I haven’t yet decided how long my stay will be.”

  “I’ve told Willem I’d like to visit the other realms, or Edhil and Saith, at least, because I’ve heard they’re quite beautiful,” Isadora said. “He’s hesitant, so I suppose we’ll see.”

  Freya didn’t miss the slight curl of Lessia’s lip at Isadora’s obvious submissiveness to her husband. Something told Freya that Lessia didn’t have a submissive bone in her body.

  A male appeared in the corridor before them, his thigh-length green cloak identifying him as one of Lessia’s courtesans.

  “Empress, Lord Edrin has asked a word of you, if you may,” he said, keeping his eyes trained just past Lessia’s shoulder.

  “Oh, bother.” Lessia sighed loudly. “Alright, tell him I’ll be right along.” Turning to Freya and Isadora, she smiled sweetly. “I suppose our walk in the gardens will have to wait, unfortunately. Apologies Lady Balthana, Your Majesty.”

  “Not to worry,” Freya replied. “I look forward to dinner.”

  Lessia gave her a curt nod, then swept off, her long gray skirts trailing behind her.

  “Shall we continue on?” she asked Isadora, noting her slightly relieved expression.

  “Yes, please.”

  As she and Isadora continued walking, Freya struggled to come up with an innocuous conversation topic. Do you happen to know of any of your king’s men who might want to commit treason against him? didn’t seem the best tactic for sussing out information, especially considering she knew little and less about the woman. The woman seemed meek and mild, but any good actress could feign such things.

  They traveled for a few moments before Freya broke the silence.

  “Have you made any other plans for your stay in Iladel, Your Majesty?”

  “I hope to explore the main city while I’m here. I’ve heard such wonderful things about it, and the cities in Dystone are quite small compared to yours.” Isadora clasped her hands behind her back and sighed contentedly as they neared the garden entrance. “This is such a beautiful space,” she commented.

  “It’s always been one of my favorites,” Freya told her. “You should see it in spring and summer.”

  “I think I’d very much like that,” Isadora said as Freya led her down the main path. “You and Aerelius have known each other for a long time, correct?”

  Freya smiled. “Yes, we’ve been friends since we were children.” She bit her lip before continuing. “Did you and King Willem not know each other prior to your wedding?”

  “Not well,” Isadora said with a sigh. “The betrothal was made when we were infants, but we only saw each other once a year at summer solstice before that. A week-long visit and no more.”

  “And your parents?”

  “I hail from the governing house of Vindarria, the easternmost province of Dystone. We have the strongest army in the land, so Willem’s father saw a benefit in uniting our families.” There was an odd note to her voice, something that told Freya she’d likely recited those lines many times in her life, perhaps to convince herself why a betrothal to a man she didn’t know was a good thing.

  “It’s always about power, isn’t it?” Freya said ruefully.

  “Too true,” Isadora murmured, her words carrying a clear undercurrent of resentfulness.

  Feeling the conversation deteriorating, Freya shifted direction. “I haven’t yet had the pleasure of visiting Dystone,” she said. “Do you have a favorite region?”

  Isadora brightened. “Oh, yes! I’m partial to the eastern lands, myself, but when I moved west to take my place at Willem’s side, I fell in love with both the land and its people. It was so… different than what I was used to, but in such a good way.” She smiled at Freya. “Has it ever been like that for you?”

  “A bit. I spent most of my life to the west of Lindoroth in Allanor, not far from Iston, where the rest of my kind still live. That’s where my father grew up. We summered here every year up until I was thirteen.” She smiled softly. “Iladel was my second home.”

  “But not after?”

  Freya shook her head. “After my mother passed, the choices were to either bring me here and have others raise me at court or have my aunt raise me in Allanor.” She shrugged. “My father chose Allanor.”

  “It doesn’t sound as though that is what you would’ve chosen,” Isadora said softly.

  “No, I can’t say it is.” Freya sighed. “I know why my father chose the way he did for me, and in many ways I’m thankful. I may have even done the same in his shoes, but I think I would have liked a bit more time here as just a girl, the prince’s friend.” She gave the young queen a slightly embarrassed look. “Does that sound silly?”

  “Not in the least!” Isadora linked her arm through Freya’s. “But what I will say in your father’s defense is that he gave you a gift most women in our positions never receive.”

  “A gift?”

  Isadora nodded. “You got to be perfectly ordinary, if my guess is correct. Or, perhaps, not ordinary, but I’d be willing to bet you weren’t stuffed and trussed like a turkey on a daily basis while you were living in Allanor.” She cast a pointed look at Freya’s pants.

  Freya laughed at that. “No, Watoria wasn’t the type of place you saw many stuffed and trussed females.”

  “I think it will help you bring your own unique spark to your throne,” Isadora said with a firm nod. “People will expect great things from you, Freya, but something tells me greatness will be anything but difficult for you to achieve.”

  Momentarily stunned, she stared at the woman. It was the highest compliment she’d ever received from someone who wasn’t already familiar with her, not to mention the delivery had far more wisdom than the young queen looked to possess.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. Your words are very kind.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t speak them if they weren’t true,” Isadora said matter-of-factly. “I may not seem like much, my lady, but I like to think I’m a good judge of character.” She patted Freya’s hand and looked around the garden. “This reminds me of the gardens in Caldel a bit. Lovely, even in the colder months.”

  “The prince and I used to escape here often when we were children,” Freya told her, smiling at the memory.

  “The other children and I used to play games in them often, during our visits at court,” Isadora told her. “Willem has five siblings, so we were often getting ourselves into trouble.”

  Freya laughed. “It sounds like you were very much like me as a girl. Aer and I always found ourselves in a bit of trouble.” She frowned. “Almost daily, I’d say.”

  Isadora laughed, a high, tinkling sound that reminded Freya a little of bells. “Ah, yes, Willem’s younger brothers were the troublemakers of their family. Rosie and Anabeth, their sisters, they were sweet, but the boys… yes, they were trouble.”

  “You’re close with the whole family, the
n?” Freya asked.

  “A bit,” Isadora replied. “More so now than back then. I only saw them once a year for about a week, just long enough to allow Willem and I to spend a bit of time together. It was hardly enough time to form meaningful relationships,” she said, her tone carrying a touch of bitterness. “Willem was often with his father and the governors, so most of my time was spent with his siblings. They were a fun group, those five,” she said fondly.

  Freya smiled wistfully, wondering what it must’ve been like to grow up with siblings, who she’d always thought might be like having live-in friends. She enjoyed her privacy and had never been the social butterfly her mother had been, but she was always fine with that. She didn’t realize until she’d met Lea, Laz, and Collin and reconnected with Aer that she’d been missing out on a great many things by maintaining that privacy.

  It was weird having close friends. She’d had acquaintances back in Watoria, her closest friend being Ashton, who’d befriended her on the first day of her ninth year of school. Aside from him, though, she hadn’t allowed herself to get overly close with anyone. She’d been social enough, going to dances and parties, but that had more to do with her desire to get to know the people she’d soon be ruling and let them get to know her.

  Having friends without that hanging over their heads was… nice, even if, technically, they had been provided to her by the crown.

  Regardless of where they’d come from or how they’d appeared in her life, she couldn’t imagine her life at court without them.

  Chapter 39

  Rini arrived two hours before dinner to help Freya dress. After presenting her with two options for dinner attire, they decided on a peach A-line cut gown with sleeves that tapered to her elbow that was, as the pixie put it, “understated but deliciously flattering.” She chose gold combs inlaid with green opals for Freya’s hair, using one at either temple to pull her hair back from her face, then touched her lips with a bit of pale pink lip rouge and dusted her cheeks with shimmering pink blush. It was a style she often chose, one she felt brought attention to the vibrant color of Freya’s hair without making it the focus, which it often was when Freya wore her typical brown or black leather.