Joseph Lewis - Freya the Huntress

Thora shivered as the winter wind threw her long brown hair around her face. “I was planning to kill you both when I discovered that Magnus was still alive. He came to me one night when I was walking along the wall, and the sight of him nearly stopped my heart, he was so huge and hideous. But he spoke to me, and I knew it was him. So I stayed in the city, serving Skadi, hoping to find a cure for him. And when Freya came back with Ivar’s head, I had to tell Magnus. He deserved to know what had happened to his father.”

“You snake!” He hurled a fist of snow and pebbles at her.

Thora let them thump harmlessly on her heavy black cloak. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand real loyalty. Or real love.”

He laughed. “I loved you well enough.” He curled his tongue through the air in a beckoning lick.

She smiled strangely. “Not as well as you think. I loved Magnus, but as long as I couldn’t have him, I was willing to settle for you. It amused me to play with one of Skadi’s toys, simply because it shamed her. But it was never about you, Leif. I never saw you. It was always Magnus. Why else did you think I kept you on your knees?”

He threw up his hand. “And now?”

“Now Magnus is dead, and there’s nothing here for me anymore. So I’ll go to Alba, or wherever else the sea takes me.” She started walking again.

“What about me?”

“You can come, too. I suppose I can always use another pair of eyes or a spare hand. I have no illusions about how hard it will be to survive on the sea, or in Alba, or wherever we go,” she said over her shoulder. “But if you ever touch me again, Leif, I will kill you.”