“As long as you don’t cast spells on me,” he jokes.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I wouldn’t want to hurt your sensibilities.”
Okay, maybe I took it too far. Some friendly banter is one thing, but insulting a man’s masculinity is another altogether. Ari rolls his eyes.
“Silence, both of you, your jarl speaks!” shouts Sigurd.
My stomach flips at the jarl’s words. His voice cuts the air. I have no idea how thick the ice beneath my feet is.
“Forgive me,” says the skald.
“Forgive me, my jarl,” I copy him.
“Listen now. The Volva wants you to stay with her, at least for the start of your training.”
I grin—can’t even hide it. I can almost smell the pine forest already, the freedom of the mountain. No trial, no test. Training. Alone. With a wise-woman. No men to disturb us, no humiliation of the new slave. Just time to learn away from it all. A true blessing.
Testing the jarl’s patience, Ari turns his head to me.
“I will miss you dearly, thrall girl Kilda.”
His eyes soften. Just a flicker. Is he teasing or… Hard to tell with this man.
“Don’t worry,” says the jarl sternly. “I want you to learn runes, my dear poet. You will not miss Kilda the thrall, but we will miss Ari the Skald.” It dawns on me what the jarl is saying. Toss me in the ocean. Couldn’t Freya have given me one bowl of soup without a rock to crack my tooth on?
“My lord, I—” begins Ari, but the jarl interrupts him.
“Both of you are going. Your training begins after three moons.”
CHAPTER 10
Chatter and laughter fill the dimly lit room. The thralls are in a good mood this evening. We received a hearty deer soup, a thick fatty broth filled with turnip, cabbage, and nettles. All brought together by a blend of herbs picked by a master. I inhale its rich smell, feeling my mouth water. We eat in a separate room from the free folk—a reminder of our value. Even so, I am grateful as I sprinkle extra salt into my steaming bowl. As a free woman, I have never eaten so well as I do here in Opdal.
“The bastard shouted for its mother!” says a man at the other end of the table. “Stuck like Fenrir in his chain.”
The men laugh.
“Goats,” says another. “I wonder what Thor sees in them.”
Naturally, I am sitting at the other end of the table, with the women, who are busier eating than joking. We’re all onour second portion, except for Eidunn, who sits across from me pushing chunks of meat around her bowl. She has barely eaten. The weight on her mind drags down the mood among the ladies.
“The men are merry,” I say to the group, but it’s aimed at Eidunn.
Some of the women nod or make grunts of confirmation, engrossed in their bowls. Eidunn raises her gaze to meet mine, holding my eyes. I crack a smile, hoping to warm her spirits.
“Men have reason to be lighthearted,” she says before returning to her stirring.
“True,” I respond. “But when I observe their simple minds and manners, I am happy to be born a woman.”
“I’ll cheer to that,” says the old cook who fed me breakfast, Ausveig. She holds up her wooden cup with a grin. I raise my own cup in response, unable to hide my surprise.
“She speaks!” I say with a laugh.
“Only to the worthy,” she responds with a wink.
Ausveig’s words kindle a fire in my chest. Her praise wraps around me like a warm cloak. If she accepts me, the rest will too. A good start.
“I am most honored, Ausveig.”
