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While I understood that title could not apply in Norway, I appreciated their homage and loyalty, recognizing them as great warriors along with many others. Helping the elderly man who had tried to defend my grandmother up, I thanked him, along with everyone else, for his valor.

“There is much to talk about,” my grandmother said, continuing to eye me with pride before taking in the carnage around us. “But first, we must honor the dead, enemy or not, ja, grandson?”

“Ja,” I said, by no means about to agree they were enemies when I wanted only peace on these shores for King Magnus. “Fallen warriors should always be honored. They fight for some cause, whether ’tis ours or not.”

And so, we did, having no choice but to send them to their deities within the flames, before the next storm was upon us and all gathered in the community lodge. While smaller than most, it still possessed the deeply sloping roof of those in our homeland.

While I longed to introduce Tove to my people as the woman I loved, I had no choice but to find contentment in her being by my side as my grandmother invited us to sit at her table, not set on a dais but among the people. King Magnus took no offense to it either, grateful for their hospitality with what food and drink they could spare, promising to restore all used this eve.

“’Tis good to finally meet you, Earl Tove Helvig,” my grandmother said to Tove when I introduced them. Though there was little time to say more at the moment, her wise gaze lingered on Tove. “I cannot tell you how glad I am Knud found you that tragic night, for ’twas you and you alone he sought.” Her gaze flickered from the talisman around my neck to Tove. “But I think some part of you always knew that.”

“Ja,” Tove replied softly, not denying it, seeing something in my grandmother’s eyes that spoke to their shared gift of divination. “Always.” She looked from me back to my matriarch, and spoke telling words indeed. “And might the gods forever keep him by my side.”

For all the grappling I’d done last night with the king’s speculations about who I might be, some part of me hadn’t dared give it too much credence, considering the disappointment I might feel if I weren’t. No fool, I understood what it could entail if I were who Magnus claimed. Understood that it would make me more than worthy in Bjǫrn’s eyes to marry his daughter, Tove.

Yet here now, with the exchange between her and my newfound grandmother, Idunn, and my tribe, I dared to dream, unable to keep from hoping. That hope only grew into a sense of certainty the more people approached me, and we talked and connected, and I fell into a role I was born for, with little doubt now I was who all claimed me to be.

There was much to discuss and understand about my past, but what reigned most pressing, given King Alexander was en route to this isle, was the battle that had just taken place.

Better yet, how much it might exacerbate an already precarious situation.

“Given the colors of their plaids, they appear to have been King Alexander’s men,” King Magnus said gravely as we ate a thick, savory vegetable stew. He looked at Tove and Freya. “And they certainly fought with the skill of the Norse, telling me rumors of your sister training them could very well be true.”

“Assuming they did not wear the Scottish king’s colors as a guise.” My grandmother gave Magnus a pointed look. “’Twould not be the first time the Scots did something like that and claimed ’twas their king who sent them.”

“’Tis true,” one of Magnus’s top men said, swigging some ale. He shook his head, speaking bluntly, and he couldn’t be faulted for it, given the circumstances. “Yet in this case, ’tis harder to question their authenticity, considering ’tis rumored the shield-maiden, Astrid Helvig, and her husband, one of Alexander’s top men, Chieftain Declan Mackay, personally trained the king’s men. So, there can be no doubt that those men we battled were who they appeared to be.”

“There can also be little doubt Astrid MacKay’s teachings have traveled far and wide by this point,” I replied, coming to Astrid’s defense not just for her sisters’ sake but because much could be misconstrued when countries were warring and willing to do anything, with or without their liege’s permission. “To that end, they could just as easily be impostors as Idunn suggested.”

“’Tis true.” Tove shot me a thankful look. Yet she was no fool, either, when it came to love and war such as this. “But, ja, ’twas undoubtedly Norse skill we fought out there, no matter whence it derived, so we need to be prepared for it next time.”

“She’s right,” Freya said, sighing, true to her homeland just as all of us were. None of us truly knew where Astrid’s heart lay these days, other than it appeared to be with Declan and her new country, come of it what may. Even so, one man’s outlook took precedence above all, and she was wise to keep that in mind. “Yet with our certain knowledge must come patience and hope for diplomacy, ja, King Magnus?”

“Ja,” the king agreed, looking at the sisters with reassurance before his attention turned my grandmother’s way and he changed the topic for now, seemingly as interested as the rest of us about her story.

Our story.

And it turned out to be so much more heartbreaking than I imagined, yet at the same time, I never had been prouder.

More than that? It made me king of the oldest lineage in all of Norway, and with that, gave me added hope for a future I never could have imagined.

Chapter Fifteen

Tove

It was difficult to explain how I felt when fighting alongside Knud on the mountain against Scotsmen my sister might well have trained, other than to say it was one of the most impactful moments of my life.

And I didn’t need to be wearing my talisman right now to know that.

My inner seer knew without question.

It was there in every thrust of our swords as we fought, in perfect unison, just as we always had. Then, when he raced through the battle to protect an old woman, and everything seemed to slow down in my mind’s eye, giving me a deeper glance into the man I loved. I saw a boy frightened amid bloodshed, even as the man he had become fought as ferociously as the polar bear spirit fighting beside him.

I saw the ancient crown resting upon his head as he slew the man who meant to kill his matriarch, then I saw the boy in the snowy forest that night, drawing the polar bear away from me. I witnessed his grandmother, when younger, pressing her forehead to the boy and tracing the lightning bolt on his temple, then the great bear standing over him, searing the mark of the gods into his flesh.

After that, the vision fell away, and the battle resumed only for the last of our enemy to fall to their deaths, marking the beginning of an end. I couldn’t say how or why, only that it had everything to do with my sisters and me one snowy night, finding one blade that turned into three talismans.

In a fate unfolding and a Wyrd being fulfilled.