“I will…” I mumble. My head is light, sluggish. “I will consider your offer.”
“Please do.” He nods deeply, breaking decorum. No jarl’s son should honor a slave like this, but to me, he wishes to show that we are equals. “Now come. My father is probably furious, wondering where we are.”
CHAPTER 21
I’m in the middle of the room, facing the jarl on his throne. Ari the mangy crow stands next to me, straight back, hands behind him. I’m shuffling my feet, unable to hide my unease. Such a rapid change—from heated desire with Vidar to a formal ceremony with the jarl.
Last night’s berry theft weighs on me. Has Ari told anyone? Does the jarl know? Thyra is not in the room, which is a comforting sign, but even so… Vidar stands impossibly broad, legs splayed, arms folded. His eyes are locked to Ari’s face, openly aggressive. Such behavior would amount to a challenge outside the jarl’s door. Maybe Vidar is more jealous of my journey with the skald than he lets on?
Ari keeps a relaxed gaze on the jarl, waiting for his orders.
“Kilda,” says Jarl Sigurd. Finally, it begins. “You have been honored. An experienced Volva has accepted you as her apprentice.”
“Yes, lord.” I nod.
It’s hard to contain my excitement. A chance to develop my abilities—or, to develop some at all. Being a Volva brings wealth, status, and more than anything, protection. Even as a slave, surely.
“She will stay in the forest above us. I am unsure how long. But she has promised to take you in three nights, at first. You will master Seidr. You will learn enchanting. You will learn anything the Volva says you need to learn. Do you understand?”
“Yes, lord.”
“You are my thrall. You are now a member of our farm. Our people. I expect you to behave with respect. I expect you to be a shining example of the honor this hall upholds. You are an extension of me.”
“Yes, lord.”
I’m just relieved he hasn’t heard of my little berry incident. Or maybe he has and he just has other priorities. Maybe that’s why I’m getting a lecture on honor and respect. He points straight at me, his eyes burning.
“Most of all, I expect you to return. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, my jarl.”
Crystal clear. Clear as a sunstone. Easy to catch the implied threat of punishment if I should head for the hills. I haven’t considered the possibility for a few days, but ironically, the jarl’s words make me reconsider. Perhaps I should escape while I can. Seize the opportunity.
Vidar speaks, surprising the jarl as well as myself.
“If so much as a hair on her head is touched,” says Vidar, “I will find you, skald.”
Ari stares at the jarl, not moving his eyes to Vidar. Probably a good idea. Who wants to provoke a bull like him?
“Don’t worry, Vidar,” says Ari. “No one is touching your favorite slave girl.”
My shoulders stiffen. How rude. Yet… it’s true. I can hardly be offended when my status is named in public. I am constantly reminded that I am but the property of men around me. Like a horse. Or cattle. I will be free, by will or by dagger. By running in the night, most probably.
“Silence!” says the jarl, irritated that his subjects are openly aggressive in his own hall. “Control yourselves.”
“Yes, Father,” says Vidar. Ari says nothing, just stares forward.
“Ari,” says Sigurd. “You will learn runic magic as well. It will have use for the valley and with your word crafting.”
“Ari can learn some Seidr too,” says Vidar with a grin.
A harsh insult. Seidr magic can be mastered by men, but it is viewed as effeminate. Weak. Cowardly. Men should rather seek victory through bravery and honor than with magical trickery and the reading of fortunes. Ari laughs, though his masculinity has just been publicly tarnished.
“Odin was taught Seidr by Freya,” he says, keeping his eyes on the jarl.
“Keep the peace, boys,” says Jarl Sigurd. “This place is?—”
“Odin only has one eye,” interrupts Vidar, not wanting to let Ari have the final word. “I can help you with that if you wish.”
