Home > Sigurd and the Valkyrie (Once Upon a Spell #8)

Sigurd and the Valkyrie (Once Upon a Spell #8)
Author: Vivienne Savage

Map of the Eastern Hemisphere of the Realm of Terraina

 

 

Once Upon a Time…

 

 

Eight years ago…

 

 

The tiniest tomb in all of the Ridaeron Dynasty sported a single column of text wishing its inhabitants peace and an afterlife without the pain they’d known on earth. Atop the slender column, a lone Valkyrie stood with her sword, watching over those three little souls. Brynhildr wondered if they would be allowed to take their place in Valhalla. After all, they had not died in battle. Their only fight had been to survive birth.

Perhaps that would be enough.

A stormy day tore up and down the plains, pounding the guardsmen beyond the Royal Mausoleum, who waited patiently for the ceremony to end. For their king and queen to inter yet another child. The rain wouldn’t be enough to wash away Brynhildr’s anguish.

She did not understand why the gods loathed her, not when she’d dedicated every moment of her life to earning their favor. She’d fought in Freya’s name, performed honorably in combat, but still the goddess wouldn’t bless her with a living baby.

It had to be her womb.

Just when she thought she’d cried it all out, she scrubbed her cheek with the heel of her palm. “I’m—I’m sorry, Gunnar. I tried. This is my fault. I must have—I must have done something wrong.” She’d spent every day in bed as the midwife had ordered, drank foul teas, guzzled tonics, but nothing had helped in the end.

“No, wife, the blame does not lie with you.” Gunnar settled his heavy hand on her shoulder. “We should speak.”

“Of what? How can you even bear to lay your eyes on me?”

Her husband turned her to face him, then he cupped her face between his warm, callused palms and lifted her averted gaze to his. Only concern shone in his blue eyes. “I can look upon you as I know the fault isn’t yours.”

“How could you even know that? The midwife said—”

“The midwife does not know what I know. Another served my mother, and my mother before her, but she died long ago. My family line is cursed. I hadn’t believed it—hadn’t wanted to burden you with such sorrow—but now I must accept it as truth.”

Brynhildr jerked from his touch, her anger rising hot and fast. “Cursed? What curse? You have never spoken of a curse before.”

“I know, and for that I am sorry. As I said, I hadn’t believed it to be true.”

“What curse? What have you not told me?”

Gunnar’s broad shoulders sank. “The legend says only the seventh born child will live to draw breath.”

Seventh. Six losses before she could hold a living child in her arms. As her teary gaze swung back to the three tiny plaques on the stone obelisk, she wondered if she could bear the heartache of burying three more.

“Bryn, please.”

“Do not touch me!” She recoiled from him, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “How could you keep such a thing from me?”

“I should have been honest from the start, but you are strong, Brynhildr. The strongest woman I know. I thought if anyone could prove the curse to be false, it would be you.”

“You should have given me the opportunity to decide for myself.”

“My mother bore several children after me. How was I to know a shred of truth was in those stories? Growing up, I believed the curse had died out. That it had weakened over the decades.”

“It didn’t,” she spit at him. “All that has died are our children.”

“If I could have spared you this pain, I would have, dear wife. You must believe me that I would never knowingly cause you harm.”

“Yet you did. At no point did you tell me after…after our first loss that it wasn’t my failing.”

“I did not, and I do not deserve your forgiveness. Yet I must ask it anyway.” He closed the distance between them and lowered to one knee before her. Her king knelt for no one. Not even on the day he’d asked for her hand in marriage. The sight of him on the ground before her jarred her emotions. Hit her like a punch in the stomach.

Gunnar never knelt.

Yet he knelt now. For her.

“I love you, Bryn. I mourn with you. Please, don’t pull away from me.”

Brynhildr wondered if she was a fool to entertain forgiveness.

He couldn’t have known.

It would be a greater crime to throw away the marriage she’d worked so hard to build.

“Will you do this for me—for us? For our kingdom?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to deny him, but the pleading look in his gaze and the earnest, naked love she saw shining there gave her pause. She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I am strong.”

“You are. As strong as Odin and more beautiful than Freya. I know that what I ask of you is great, but your bravery is greater. This one, she lasted so much longer in the womb than the other two. Surely next time, our child will live. You will defeat this wicked spell.”

When she opened her eyes, Gunnar was standing again. He stroked her cheek and smiled, then leaned in and claimed her lips. Yes, she decided, she could forgive him.

The only cost would be three more babies.

And maybe, maybe if her body was strong enough, there would be no cost at all.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

Guilt sometimes twisted into Sigurd’s guts when he rode into the lush Ridaeron countryside and traversed the highlands of the western vale. During those moments, he hated the man he had become when he forsook his ancestors, his gods, and the family he’d left behind in the great kingdom of Eisland.

Then there were moments such as now, when he and Geri galloped over those majestic hills, the wind against his face and rushing through his hair. It had grown in the year since his arrival and passed his shoulders. Several thralls, especially a pair of female servants, had pleaded with Sigurd to allow them to braid his hair. Where he came from, men did not wear braids.

Of course, where he came from, slavery had long been outlawed and ruled an injustice. In Eisland, he would be free. Not that servitude had hampered his activities for the past year.

Would a slave have the freedom to come and go as he pleased, oftentimes for days without returning to the palace?

Would a slave own possessions, especially a horse gifted to them personally by the queen?

When it came down to it, Sigurd had been treated to the everyday life of a pampered guest, but he knew there were thralls across the kingdom who suffered unimaginable indignities. What he and Brynhildr had was not the norm by any means.

Sigurd didn’t know when he ceased to loathe his new kingdom, but something about the open fields brought him the serenity needed to face another day. Accepting his new name hadn’t been as easy as falling in love with the rolling meadows.

Letting go of Camden felt like his biggest betrayal to his homeland and the parents who raised him, but he told himself it was only a name, and that Eisland still had his loyalty, no matter how much he enjoyed racing alongside the wild ponies of expansive valley.

Cresting a hill, he brought his mount to a halt. He saw the river glinting in the distance, a faint sliver of blue against the horizon with a ferry drifting down its gentle current. It led westward for a few hundred miles then emptied into the sea. He should have missed sailing and the soothing sway of the waves beneath the hull, but something had changed. He no longer felt the sailor’s call and couldn’t remember the last time he yearned for the sight of the open Viridian Sea surrounding him on all sides.

Hot Books
» House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1)
» A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire
» From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash #1)
» A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime
» Deviant King (Royal Elite #1)
» Den of Vipers
» House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2)
» The Queen of Nothing (The Folk of the Air #
» Sweet Temptation
» The Sweetest Oblivion (Made #1)
» Chasing Cassandra (The Ravenels #6)
» Wreck & Ruin
» Steel Princess (Royal Elite #2)
» Twisted Hate (Twisted #3)
» The Play (Briar U Book 3)