Page 91 of Soul of Fire

The anger deflated from me. It was too late. My mother had asked for help too late.

“Why not take me away?” My voice cracked. “Why sell yourself to Henrik at all?”

“Your mother said you’d be safer somewhere where the dragons could find you. She thought bonding a dragon would make you stronger. Save you from her fate.” Sigrid put one of her gnarled hands over mine and squeezed gently. “By then the risk of her birth being discovered was minimal, and I couldn’t leave you there all alone. Not when I could help protect you.”

“And you knew what I was.” I hadn’t meant to sound accusatory, but Sigrid flinched nonetheless.

“I did.” She met my eyes, her gaze a watery blue, clouded with age. “Or at least, I strongly suspected. But, my Eisa, believe me when I tell you that your mother was as dear to me as a daughter. As you are a granddaughter. I believe that the Goddess never blessed me with a daughter of my own because you were meant to be my family.”

I couldn’t hold back the sob as memories of my mother—her tragic, painful death—washed over me. Sigrid held me and patted my head like she had so many times in my youth.

“I was able to ease some of her pain,” She continued as I tried to collect myself. “And on that note…” Sigrid pulled another small package from her apron pocket, the same apron she’d worn for years at Henrik’s, as I sat up and dried my tears. “This should help.”

I frowned, sure my face was still puffy. “What is it?”

“A tea. Made from shepherd’s purse and chasteberry, with a dash of moonflower and a pinch of magic.” She beamed proudly. “Your mate told me. It won’t stop your cycle from coming, but it will ease the pain and shorten the length.”

I blew out a breath, part surprise and part aching relief. If I never had to deal with the level of pain and bleeding I’d had over the last four days again, it would be too soon. “Thank you. Isn’t chasteberry–”

“A contraceptive.” Sigrid nodded sternly. “Which I know you don’t need, dearest, but it’s useful for its other properties too, so you’ll take it like the instructions say, and write when you need more.

Amaya and Freya both know how to make it.”

If she was gone, she meant. I frowned again, my eyes catching on the Tear I had kept around my neck since the day before. “You should have this. To make you well again. At least until I need it.”

“Its magic won’t stop the inevitable, my Eisa. I am eight hundred years old.” Sigrid smiled sadly and shook her head. “And as soon as you have all the Tears, I will be ready to die.”

“All the Tears?” My chest hollowed out. If I had to hunt them all down, it could take years. Arik didn’t think we had years. “How many are there?”

“Three.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank the Goddess.”

Sigrid chuckled. “They are the Goddess’ essence incarnate, and she is triune. Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Three-faced. Humans only recognize the Mother, of course, short-sighted and short-lived as they are.”

I blinked, not sure there was room in my mind for any more theology. “Where is the last one?” I reached for the gem instinctively, and it warmed in my hand. “If you had the first, and this is the second, there must be one more.”

“Ah, well, that is the problem you see. No one knows.”

“What do you mean no one knows?” I reeled a bit. An object of incredible magical importance should have been guarded through the centuries. “I thought the völva were their guardians?”

“I mean the third has vanished.” Sigrid leaned on her cane, her face serious. “One was entrusted to the priestesses at Àsynjaheimr. That is the one that you have already taken into yourself.” She nodded toward my chest. I could swear I felt the scar tingle as if it knew we were speaking of it. “The others were sent east and west, but their locations were kept secret. Only those who protect them know where to find them.”

East. An idea clicked into place. “Østrheim.”

“What’s that, dear?”

I tugged on the necklace, wishing for some sign of confirmation as I met Sigrid’s gaze. “You said east. Arik’s mother is from Østrheim!”

“It’s possible.” Sigrid looked skeptical. “I suppose if the last völva priestess had no successors, she might entrust it to a lady of the house.”

“Where in the west?” I pushed. “Do you have any idea where the third might be?”

“I do not.” Sigrid took one look at my crestfallen face and chuckled. “But fear not, my child. Freya and Amaya and I will help you. We shall travel west and seek our sisters and the final Tear, since our purpose here has been fulfilled.”

“Sigrid, you can’t,” I admonished. “You’re too–”

“Old?” Sigrid interrupted with a cackle. “Of course I am. But I’m also magic. Where age trips me, magic will pick me back up. And now,” she stood, her ancient back cracking. “Let me do your hair properly for your handfasting.” She tapped a low stool with a brush she had seemingly produced out of nowhere.