his hands would linger on my neck, his smile relaxed, and I’d have traitorous thoughts about staying in that tower with him forever.
It was a rough winter.
So when Rome and Unferth came to me last week, as the first icebergs in the harbor cracked open, it was easy for them to convince me to perform in their Baldur’s Night feast, as a send-off for their temporary Vinland Valkyrie. Our show would open the season for the arrival of spring, and then Unferth and I would charge back to the mainland to seek out my sacrifice.
And here I am, braiding my hair in two traditional Valkyrie strands on Baldur’s Night. It’s a holiday about hope, when across the USA we celebrate the god of light and his epic journey back to us from the darkness of Hel. He brings the sun with him, and the promise of summertime. Though on Vinland the ice remains, and there won’t be flowers for weeks, winter is officially over.
I smile just to think of it. By the next high holiday, Disir Day, in six weeks, I intend to be back in Philadelphia, sitting at my throne beneath the New World Tree.
My eyes in the mirror flash, and I lean nearer to see what rune will appear today. I hope for journey, because it’s time to move on, or fate.
But there, winking beside my pupil, is chaos.
Startled, I blink rapidly. Never before have I seen this rune.
It means upheaval, a moment when anything can happen. Anything can change.
Chaos probably reigned in my stars the night I climbed the Tree. Under chaos destiny breaks and even Freya the goddess of Fate and Magic cannot see true. I take a calming breath.
The center cracked/no future seen/we fly into the chasm of fate.
With the thinnest makeup brush and liquid eyeliner, I paint the dangerous rune onto my thumbnails.
The back of my neck heats and I glance higher in the mirror to see him there, Ned the Spiritless leaning indolently against the door frame behind me. With him comes a spill of applause from the crowd waiting in the feast hall, but Ned’s expression is skeptical, studying my reflection. My heart pounds harder and I wonder what he would say if I told him I see chaos. But I tuck the surge of excitement away and lift my eyebrows. “Do I not suit?”
“Signy the Valkyrie,” he drawls. His pale eyes meet mine.
He’s already in his costume for the feast, where he plays court poet to Rome’s king. It’s a long wool shirt cut tight against his lean torso, a tooled belt, and loose dark pants tucked into heavy leather boots. His sword hangs over his shoulder, sheathed in a baldric that slashes a line from his right shoulder to his left hip.
Ned stalks from the door to me. He takes up the iron collar from the dressing table, the final piece of my costume, and with exaggerated concentration pushes aside my braids to clasp it about my neck. His hands linger there.
“Such a lowly thing for a Valkyrie to do,” he murmurs.
Though I agree with him, I raise my chin. “It isn’t lowly by virtue of a Valkyrie doing it.”
He laughs—just a single bark of a laugh—and leans his hip against the table to take weight off his injured leg. His gaze sinks to my mouth.
Elisa of the Prairie whispered to me once that her husband’s first kiss brought the nine worlds together for a single moment. Brynhild was awakened from a curse by the kiss of her true love. Signy Volsung kissed her husband and instantly knew she would destroy him one day. She said, My heart does not smile with his, before burning his castle to the ground.
I want to know what will happen if I kiss Ned Unferth.
But he glances away and pulls a flask of screech from his pocket. I stare at his neck as he drinks, until he offers it to me. I take it warm from his hand and put my lips where his were. I toss back a sip that burns down my throat.
As he screws the cap back on he says rather casually, “I’m to tell you we’re running twenty behind from the extra crowds. Rome says you can choose a big entrance or come with me and take your
It was a rough winter.
So when Rome and Unferth came to me last week, as the first icebergs in the harbor cracked open, it was easy for them to convince me to perform in their Baldur’s Night feast, as a send-off for their temporary Vinland Valkyrie. Our show would open the season for the arrival of spring, and then Unferth and I would charge back to the mainland to seek out my sacrifice.
And here I am, braiding my hair in two traditional Valkyrie strands on Baldur’s Night. It’s a holiday about hope, when across the USA we celebrate the god of light and his epic journey back to us from the darkness of Hel. He brings the sun with him, and the promise of summertime. Though on Vinland the ice remains, and there won’t be flowers for weeks, winter is officially over.
I smile just to think of it. By the next high holiday, Disir Day, in six weeks, I intend to be back in Philadelphia, sitting at my throne beneath the New World Tree.
My eyes in the mirror flash, and I lean nearer to see what rune will appear today. I hope for journey, because it’s time to move on, or fate.
But there, winking beside my pupil, is chaos.
Startled, I blink rapidly. Never before have I seen this rune.
It means upheaval, a moment when anything can happen. Anything can change.
Chaos probably reigned in my stars the night I climbed the Tree. Under chaos destiny breaks and even Freya the goddess of Fate and Magic cannot see true. I take a calming breath.
The center cracked/no future seen/we fly into the chasm of fate.
With the thinnest makeup brush and liquid eyeliner, I paint the dangerous rune onto my thumbnails.
The back of my neck heats and I glance higher in the mirror to see him there, Ned the Spiritless leaning indolently against the door frame behind me. With him comes a spill of applause from the crowd waiting in the feast hall, but Ned’s expression is skeptical, studying my reflection. My heart pounds harder and I wonder what he would say if I told him I see chaos. But I tuck the surge of excitement away and lift my eyebrows. “Do I not suit?”
“Signy the Valkyrie,” he drawls. His pale eyes meet mine.
He’s already in his costume for the feast, where he plays court poet to Rome’s king. It’s a long wool shirt cut tight against his lean torso, a tooled belt, and loose dark pants tucked into heavy leather boots. His sword hangs over his shoulder, sheathed in a baldric that slashes a line from his right shoulder to his left hip.
Ned stalks from the door to me. He takes up the iron collar from the dressing table, the final piece of my costume, and with exaggerated concentration pushes aside my braids to clasp it about my neck. His hands linger there.
“Such a lowly thing for a Valkyrie to do,” he murmurs.
Though I agree with him, I raise my chin. “It isn’t lowly by virtue of a Valkyrie doing it.”
He laughs—just a single bark of a laugh—and leans his hip against the table to take weight off his injured leg. His gaze sinks to my mouth.
Elisa of the Prairie whispered to me once that her husband’s first kiss brought the nine worlds together for a single moment. Brynhild was awakened from a curse by the kiss of her true love. Signy Volsung kissed her husband and instantly knew she would destroy him one day. She said, My heart does not smile with his, before burning his castle to the ground.
I want to know what will happen if I kiss Ned Unferth.
But he glances away and pulls a flask of screech from his pocket. I stare at his neck as he drinks, until he offers it to me. I take it warm from his hand and put my lips where his were. I toss back a sip that burns down my throat.
As he screws the cap back on he says rather casually, “I’m to tell you we’re running twenty behind from the extra crowds. Rome says you can choose a big entrance or come with me and take your
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