His gods dragged her into a war she had no business being a part of. Since they weren’t here, she’d take it out on him.
“What does my village have to do with your gods and wars?”
“Our Völva indicated Freyja showed her your lands. They housed something of import.”
Her.
She knew. Even if it went unsaid.
Someone had seen her. Seen things like Elara saw things. Despite her simmering anger, her curiosity outsmarted her once again.
“What’s a völva?”
“Witch. Seeress. Priestess. One blessed by Freyja,” he murmured, his tone flat.
Was that what she was?
A witch.
It was too much. It made her temples ache and her eyes throb. Her nails scraped over her scalp as she ran her fingers through her hair. She needed to breathe. She needed space.
She needed off this ship. Away from Njáll and his stories of gods, wars, and witches.
“When will we be off this boat?” she asked.
The whites of his teeth shimmered in the filtered sunlight. His nostrils flared, an emotionless mask returning to his features, all oaths of protection forgotten.
“Before nightfall,” he said, his voice an authoritative baritone, reminding her of her place in his world.
He released her, taking a step back. She glared at him.
“What will happen to me when we arrive back to your clan?”
The ship swayed, but her voice remained steady.
It was a small victory, but one she clung to fiercely, proud her voice did not show her anxiety. A flicker of unease passed across his features. The momentary shadow in his eyes vanished before she was certain it had even been there.
Muscles flexed as he tugged on a clean tunic, the silver lines of his scars catching in the light with the movement. He looked like the lethal warrior he claimed to be.
“You will be presented to the Konungr.”
While Njáll led this raid and these men, the Konungr commanded them all. Njáll served him. Nothing could save her from his wrath. A shiver snaked around her spine, making her entire body freeze under its strangling grip.
A witch to be used by this king in a war of realms.
The realization tasted bitter in her mouth.
In her effort to protect her father, she made it worse.
“I should have let you kill us. At least we’d all be together. Me, Momma, Papa… Edmund.”
“Do. Not. Speak of such things,” he hissed, the cold command making her heart forget how to beat.
“Why?”
His only answer was silence.
This Konungr might kill her when she arrived. It would have been better to go with her father by her side. At least then she wouldn’t have to face it alone.
