The Valkyrie's Shadow, page 30
Sigrid furrowed her brow. This made more sense than how her aunt approached it.
“No royal has truly understood this.” Vala exhaled, sounding more tired than ever. “Vanahalla has suffered from a woeful lack of compassion. Even King Óleifr had his faults.”
Sigrid shifted on her feet, knowing full well all of her own faults. “Maybe I’m not that different from them.”
Vala leaned on her walking stick, fixing Sigrid with her penetrating gaze. “Why do you say that?”
“Sometimes, I’m scared that I—” Her voice broke, so she tried again. “On Sleipnir, it’s like this power overcomes me, and…I’ve made choices I’m not proud of.” Her throat seemed to close. She shook her head. She couldn’t admit how much influence Sleipnir had over her and how much she feared she was like her mother—as if saying it out loud made the fear more likely to be true.
Vala nodded slowly, as if examining each word Sigrid had voiced. “How much do you know about the concept of balance, Sigrid?”
She’d heard too much about it recently. Thinking back to what Ratatosk had told her, she said, “Order and chaos. Good and evil.”
“This kind of equilibrium also applies to family trees. There are a lot of branches in front of you, and Odin’s name is the most prominent and celebrated in this whole tree. But two people are needed to make a baby.” Vala pointed with her stick. “Odin came from one side of your tree. Who is on the other?”
“My mother said my father was a nobody—”
“Not him. I mean further back on your mother’s side.”
With trepidation cinching her insides, Sigrid traced her gaze down the branch labeled Helena. Each name she passed frayed the thread connecting her to the royal family. She’d never heard of any of these people.
A name near the ground made her stop breathing.
Vala must have noticed, because she said, “Tangled within your roots, we find the goddess Hel. And do you know who Hel’s father was?”
All the blood drained from Sigrid’s face, leaving her cold and dizzy. No.
She shook her head. “I’m not. I can’t be.”
But there it was, snaking down the branches connecting Helena to the rest of the tree—Loki.
“Loki is in your blood, Sigrid.” Vala’s voice seemed to come from a long way away. “You are the descendant of Odin and the heir to Sleipnir—but you are also the descendant of chaos, and you have those forces running through your veins.”
Everything Ratatosk had said about Loki was a part of her. Mischief. Chaos. Obscenity. Lies.
Evil.
This was the missing link—Helena, Aunt Kaia, and Sigrid’s own erratic emotions whenever she rode Sleipnir. Of course Aunt Kaia was in allegiance with Helena. The forces of mischief and imbalance ran in her family. The tapestry in front of her proved it. And with Loki’s blood in both Sleipnir’s and her veins, they embodied far too much of the god of chaos.
Everything Sigrid had done, her affinity for Kaia and Helena, Sleipnir’s hold over her—it all made sense. Sleipnir’s hold on her was not so much an influence, but a conduit to Loki.
“Sigrid?” Vala’s tone softened with worry. “Are you okay?”
Sigrid’s breaths came fast, making her lightheaded. “I—I have to go.”
The Seer’s eyebrows arched with concern. “I hoped that understanding your family tree would help—”
“It’s fine. I just need to think.” She swept from the room.
Vala called out after her.
But Sigrid kept going, a hand over her mouth to stifle her panic.
Sleipnir wasn’t making her evil—he was bringing out the evil that was already inside her.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Good Horses
and Bad Horses
All this time, Sigrid had thought she’d chosen to let Sleipnir in and struggled to control his impulses—but after talking to Vala, she understood what was going on better than ever.
The impulses were hers.
Sigrid ran down the corridor, her chest tightening until she could barely breathe. The god of mayhem was a part of her. How was she supposed to keep fighting, knowing this? As soon as she rode out on Sleipnir, her clouded judgment would put everyone in danger.
Her feet took her to the royal stable, where she stopped in the doorway and drew a few deep breaths. The truth bounced around in her brain, drowning out all other thoughts, like the inside of a bell.
I’m descended from Loki.
Hestur nickered in greeting.
Sigrid raced over, tears burning her eyes, and threw her arms around his neck. She held on, breathing deeply until the suffocating feeling in her chest loosened. He’d always been there for her, a reminder of who she was. Now, he stood still with his chin on her shoulder, seeming to know that she needed a hug.
“Thanks, buddy,” she said, hearing the tiredness in her voice.
Am I destined to fail?
If Loki was part of her, she might never be able to choose good over evil. Aunt Kaia, Princess Helena, and the Svartalf King were all on the wrong side of the cosmic scale, and maybe she was, too. This wasn’t a war of order fighting chaos, or of good fighting evil—this was chaos fighting more chaos. She’d planned to rise above it, but maybe that was impossible. Fate had its own plans for her.
She let go of Hestur and continued on to Sleipnir’s stall. He nickered in greeting, too, just like Hestur had.
When she entered the stall and rested a hand on the stallion’s wide forehead, his power tried to secure its hold on her, like a bodice tightening around her middle. But working against it, her sadness at having failed Mariam and Fisk bubbled up, loosening the invisible laces.
I don’t want war. I want to settle this peacefully.
That counted for something, right? Maybe Sigrid could break free from Loki’s influence if she focused on that wish.
Or maybe Sleipnir would keep bringing out the evil inside her, and she was doomed to succumb to it no matter how much she resisted.
The stallion nuzzled her, like the way Hestur asked to have his ears rubbed.
Sigrid frowned. Was Sleipnir inherently evil, or was his connection to Loki to blame? After growing up around horses and gleaning generations of knowledge from the older stable hands, she had come to understand that there was no such thing as a bad horse. There were only poorly trained horses and ones who acted defensively after being mistreated.
Sleipnir was no exception. A horse existed somewhere inside this wild, eight-legged shell, and he wasn’t a bad one. She just hadn’t figured out how to access the good part of him.
She kissed the stallion’s nose, his heat passing from her lips to the rest of her. “It’s not your fault you were born with this power.”
Riding Sleipnir before figuring out how to work with him had been the wrong decision. In trying to do the best thing for Vanaheim, she’d rushed it and failed.
“I’m going to ride Hestur and keep you here for some rest, okay?” Her voice cracked. He bobbed his head like Hestur did when she talked to him. “You’ve earned a break.”
Mariam’s pained words echoed in her mind. You don’t even care.
She’d been asking the real Sigrid to come back—the Sigrid who let compassion guide her. That Sigrid would have made sure her friends were okay after the battles. She would have filled Vanahalla’s empty rooms with stable hands and valkyries to ensure they were well rested and safe. She would have questioned why Aunt Kaia forced the stable hands to work past exhaustion, and why she spent Vanaheim’s wealth on robes and jewelry, and why she invited Sigrid to lavish meals while everyone else crammed into the dining hall and ate stale sandwiches.
The real Sigrid wouldn’t have shouted at Fisk, or left people defenseless, or done any of the other horribly callous things she’d done in the name of getting ahead in this war.
And she would have apologized and kissed Mariam instead of shouting at her.
All the energy drained from Sigrid, weakening her legs as she leaned against the wall of Sleipnir’s stall. A sob contracted her ribs. Her shoulders shook and warm tears ran down her cheeks, unstoppable. The stallion sniffed her face, his warm breath washing over her cheeks.
Mariam was right. Sigrid had surrendered to the way Sleipnir and her royal title made her feel—powerful, invincible, driven by the gods of war. Leaving the people of Borthorpe had been too easy, and all of the kills she made in battle came without hesitation. The valkyries had every right to question her decisions. No wonder they were reluctant when she told them to burn the enemy to ashes.
General Eira and Drifa…
General Eira had spent years stopping Sigrid from reaching her potential, but she’d also given Sigrid a job and let her ride with the valkyries to Svartalfheim. Beneath her harsh exterior, she’d been someone who’d dedicated her life to defending Vanaheim. And Drifa was sweet and gentle and always happy to see Sigrid. Now they were both gone, lost in a war that seemed impossible to end.
The click-clack of wood-soled shoes on marble approached, and Sigrid straightened up, sucking in a breath.
She wiped her face quickly, dropping her hand just in time for Aunt Kaia to appear on the other side of the stall door.
Sigrid ground her teeth, tasting bile.
“Sorry to interrupt.” The queen’s tone sent a ripple up Sigrid’s spine. She sounded so much like Helena.
Sigrid squared her shoulders. “We have nothing more to discuss.”
Aunt Kaia raised an eyebrow. “I thought you might want to know that one of your valkyries returned from patrolling Myrkviðr. She says she found the Svartalf King.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
A New Plan
Sigrid froze. “We found him?”
“He’s a half hour away.” Aunt Kaia held out a map, watching Sigrid closely. “He has a large division with him and they’re moving in this direction.”
Sigrid took the map, numb. A freshly inked, black X marked a place next to a ravine in Myrkviðr. “Coming to attack?”
“Maybe. Or he might wait in Myrkviðr until he feels the time is right.”
Sigrid’s pulse raced. Her plan to send valkyries on patrol had worked. “Looks like we’re handling the invasion just fine without Helena.”
Aunt Kaia’s eyes narrowed, her expression cold. “Don’t mistake luck for brilliance.”
This wasn’t luck. Sigrid made a plan and it paid off.
Or had it?
Was this too easy?
Her heart flipped. The only way to find out was to ride out to find him.
“Where are the juniors now?” Getting the information firsthand was better than trusting her aunt to deliver all the facts.
“Back at the valkyrie stable with the others.”
Sigrid opened the stall door, forcing her aunt to back up. “We’ll head out to meet him. The reserve valkyries will stay and defend the hall.”
Without waiting for a response, she strode to the tack room so she could saddle up Hestur. But a sudden question had her rushing back out to the aisle. “Aunt Kaia.”
The queen turned, dropping her hand from the stable door and letting it close again. Her eyes widened and her brow lifted almost imperceptibly. “Yes?”
“Why did you want me to learn about runes so I could communicate with Loki?”
The idea had only made sense when the plan was to use the link to try and stop Loki. But knowing there was a connection already between her and the god of mischief, strengthening it seemed reckless.
Aunt Kaia searched her face, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly, as if this wasn’t what she’d hoped Sigrid would say. “I thought you might be the most successful at opening a conduit with him.”
Sigrid nodded, nausea rising all over again. “I see.”
Aunt Kaia had kept the full details of their lineage from her on purpose.
Sigrid had the strongest connection to Loki out of anyone. If she’d used runes to open a direct conduit to the god of mischief, who knew what kind of havoc would’ve been unleashed?
Her frown deepened as she held her aunt’s gaze. I will never write the runes to call on him.
“May you bring the Svartalf King everything he deserves, Princess.” With a swish of her robe, Aunt Kaia left the stable.
Sigrid let out a breath, hurrying to saddle up.
My family is the worst.
Queen Kaia and Princess Helena had turned out to be the same—royals with no experience outside these golden towers, failing to understand what Vanaheim’s people needed and what the nine worlds needed from Vanaheim.
Sigrid was different. If she reached beneath whatever hold Loki had over her, she was still a stable hand who knew what it was like to live at the bottom. She was just an orphan girl with a Midgard horse who happened to be linked to the gods.
Ranking and lineage were no indication of greatness. She had plenty of proof of that, having been stuck serving the “nobler” valkyries her whole life. Low-ranking stable hand or royal, they were all people of Vanaheim, and Sigrid would fight to protect them all. She would also fight to protect the nine worlds from her own family.
“I will succeed,” she told Hestur as she put on her armor. “I’ve fought, strategized, and made successful plans. I can keep learning. Be better. And I have friends who have my back.” Or she would again, once she apologized. “Nothing can stop us, right, buddy?”
Hestur snorted.
They had to find the Svartalf King and drive the Night Elves out, but Sigrid wouldn’t allow Aunt Kaia to launch a conquest and throw the cosmos further out of balance.
As she mounted up, the thought of becoming a traitor to the crown sent a spike of panic through her, which she tried to calm with a few deep breaths.
Opposing the crown was exactly what her mother had done before fleeing to Helheim. It was the very thing that got Mariam’s mother banished to Niflheim. If Sigrid tried to oppose Aunt Kaia, what would happen? Would she be killed for treason?
I have to accept that risk.
Vanaheim needed her.
Sigrid urged Hestur into a gallop, heading down to the valkyrie stables.
As she entered the yard, all twenty-one juniors and a few stable hands were finishing getting ready, every valkyrie in her armor and every mare tacked up. They all stopped and stood at attention, their gazes flicking between Sigrid’s face and Hestur.
Edith, Runa, and Roland walked closer, followed by the others.
Edith spoke first. “Why aren’t you riding—”
Sigrid raised a hand. “Everyone, listen up. There’s been a slight change of plans.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Meeting
In The Forest
Everyone in the stable yard seemed to draw a breath at Sigrid’s proclamation, their postures tense—like they expected her to start barking orders and demanding violence and bloodshed. How much had they noticed the change in her while she rode Sleipnir?
She kept her voice steady, meeting their wide eyes. “The key to ending this invasion is the Svartalf King. You’ve done the impossible and found him. Good work.” In the thick silence, she held up the map from Aunt Kaia. “He’s a half hour away in Myrkviðr. This is our chance to surround and trap him so I can talk to him one-on-one.”
“Talk to him, or kill him?” Edith asked.
Sigrid held back a wince. “Talk.”
Their expressions said they didn’t quite believe her.
“Look, I know Queen Kaia’s intent is to kill him, but that’s not what we’re going to do,” she said. “We’re going to end this war without more bloodshed, and negotiate peace. That’s the whole point of the valkyries, isn’t it? To keep peace? Killing him would just incite his army and make everything worse.”
There was a pause, and then one by one, the valkyries nodded. Their shoulders relaxed, the strain on their faces melting away.
Sigrid’s heart lifted.
“He had a small army with him,” Runa said. She must’ve been part of the patrol that discovered the king’s location. “We might not be able to hold them off for long while you talk.”
“That’s okay. We’ll do the best we can.”
All of the juniors nodded and murmured, “Yes, Your Highness,” which made Sigrid squirm in the saddle.
Mariam stood at the back of the group, not meeting her eyes.
“Bring your torches to surround them, but don’t light them up,” Sigrid said. They had to fight with everything they had, but she was done with the gruesome kills.
In the hot evening sun, the stable hands quickly checked over the mares, and the valkyries finished getting ready. None of them spoke to her, not even to note she was on Hestur instead of Sleipnir.
Fisk was there, and to Sigrid’s surprise, the two Night Elf captives were helping tend the horses.
She nudged Hestur closer. “They’ve decided to help?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Okay, I deserve that. “Have you found other allies?”
He checked the buckles on Mjöll’s bridle. “Are you going to shout at me if I haven’t?”
Sigrid swallowed. “No. Fisk, I’m sorry—”
“I’m working on it. Is that all?”
“Let me explain.”
“I don’t want explanations.” He stomped past to help with the next mare. “Now please stay out of my way.”
Her chest squeezed. Clearly, she would have to work harder on her apologies.
As the twenty-one junior valkyries mounted up and began the ride down to Myrkviðr, Sigrid trotted closer to Mariam. “I’m sorry—”
Mariam took off into the sky.
Caught in the whirl of dust, Sigrid shouted after her, nudging Hestur to keep up. “You were right! I was a jerk. Please, Mariam. I need you.”
