The valkyries shadow, p.12
The Valkyrie's Shadow, page 12
Queen Kaia stopped at a closed door and motioned for her to go inside. “Your quarters.”
Sigrid hesitated, excitement and nerves doing battle inside her. Who did these chambers belong to before? Whether it was her mother, the dead king, her dead grandparents, or someone else long passed, none of it was comforting.
“Whose—?” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Óleifr’s,” Queen Kaia said, her eyebrows pulling down.
Sigrid’s heart jumped while her mind unhelpfully shouted, Did he die in here?
But no, the room would have been cleaned and freshened for her. Wherever he’d died, there was nothing to be afraid of.
It was strange that her aunt had been so quick to clear out her brother’s chambers. Unless it was easier to put her living niece in there than to face the empty room.
Queen Kaia searched her expression, dipping her chin to meet her eyes. “Is that all right?”
Sigrid nodded. Truthfully, this was better than being given Princess Helena’s old room. At least Queen Kaia had enough sense not to try and do that. “Yes. Of course.”
And without wasting another moment, she seized the massive gold doorknob and entered.
The view took the breath from her lungs.
King Óleifr’s room had a natural, woodsy feel that Queen Kaia must have guessed Sigrid would like. The wooden walls, logs, and the abundance of plants all gave the impression of being deep in Myrkviðr. A cozy fireplace burned in the far wall. To the left, an open doorway led to what looked like a bathroom. To the right, another doorway opened to a study. Enormous paintings took up every wall, horses and gods looking down from every angle. The room’s main feature was an outrageously large bed that could have fit Sleipnir.
Oh—my—gods.
After spending her life paying to sleep in a barn and being made to feel like an annoying pigeon who lived in the rafters, being given this luxurious room felt strange. It could not possibly have been more different from her old quarters.
It was more than she ever thought she would have…and it would be better if she could share it.
Guilt twisted inside her. Mariam was settling into her old stall a few minutes down the hill while Sigrid had a room big enough for both of them. The bed was certainly big enough.
The thought made her face burn as something new and exciting fluttered deep inside her.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you for letting my friends stay in Vanaheim, Queen Kaia. General Eira is accepting Mariam into the valkyrie ranks. She said she knew her mother.”
“Did she? Well, we’re lucky to have a new valkyrie in times like these,” Queen Kaia said grimly.
“Mariam’s wonderful. General Eira made the right decision.”
Queen Kaia raised an eyebrow, and Sigrid’s cheeks warmed. She was maybe-not-so-subtly trying to plant a seed for when she would ask if Mariam could live in the hall.
Before she could bring up Fisk, too, Queen Kaia said, “Call me Aunt. No need for formalities among family.”
Sigrid tested the words Aunt Kaia in her head a few times. It didn’t make her cringe.
She smiled tentatively. “Aunt Kaia.”
With the words still on the air, the queen bid her good night and left, closing the door and plunging Sigrid into silence. There were no stomping hooves, swishing tails, or clucking chickens. Just the crackling fire.
She raced for the bed and threw herself onto it, a lot of feelings washing over her. Excitement. Loneliness. A hint of doubt over her decision to live here. Anticipation over what her new life would hold.
Vanahalla is my home.
The truth was too incredible to believe.
Chapter Nineteen
Vanahalla’s
Ancient Rooms
Sigrid’s first day at the palace began with sandwiches, cereal, and cakes spread across one of the biggest tables she’d ever seen. It was a more lavish breakfast than she could’ve ever imagined. Her usual fare consisted of whatever she could eat while she started chores—apples, bread, and sometimes eggs if she’d had time to boil them.
What are the chances I can smuggle half of this down to my friends?
“First thing we have to do is get you oriented,” Aunt Kaia said, snapping her out of her breakfast-smuggling plans. “I’ll show you the libraries and drawing rooms where you can study, the different wings and towers…and of course we’ll introduce you to the sorcerers and staff later this week…”
The queen wore another blue robe today, apparently from an endless wardrobe of them, and her hair was woven back into a beautiful braid dotted with amber jewels. She thankfully had yet to tell Sigrid to wear anything other than her comfortable tunic and trousers.
Sigrid took a bite out of her sandwich. Oh yeah, she was definitely smuggling a few. “Remember I still have valkyrie training.”
Aunt Kaia raised an eyebrow. “Not today. My brother’s funeral is this afternoon.”
Sigrid’s cheeks warmed. With everything going on, she’d forgotten. “Right. Sorry.”
The queen waved the apology away. “It’s all right. But you should get used to missing a day of training here and there. You have other priorities now. General Eira will understand.”
Sigrid’s heart skipped a beat. Miss a day? No way. “I already missed sixteen years’ worth of training. I can’t skip any sessions.”
Aunt Kaia’s large eyes narrowed in scrutiny. She nodded. “We’ll work around your training sessions, then.”
Sigrid let out a breath, relieved by the answer. But as they ate breakfast, pressure built in her head, as if her list of responsibilities was ready to overflow. She might have been overextending herself, but she was determined to fit everything into her new life—including going to see her horses and riding down to see Mariam and Fisk later.
“Time for that tour I promised?” Aunt Kaia said, and Sigrid put down her goblet so fast that apple juice sloshed out.
They set off through the maze of corridors, passing kitchens full of cooks (who were too busy to notice them), dining rooms full of sorcerers (who looked too intimidating to talk to), chambers that used to be occupied by other royals (which Sigrid had no intention of exploring), libraries with floor-to-ceiling shelves (which she had every intention of spending hours in), gold statues and colorful paintings of gods and valkyries, and a lot of empty drawing rooms that could benefit from some ambient chicken clucks and hoof stomps. The vast hall felt far from home, but hopefully in time, this feeling of insignificance would fade.
There was so much mystery about Vanahalla—a crack in the floor that made her wonder how it got there, a door with no knob, a spiral staircase that led to nowhere. Maybe the most fascinating thing about it was the way it had obviously been built and expanded over centuries—some walls and floors were made of dark, old stones, while others were polished marble and gold. Some windows had beautiful stained glass, while others were open rectangular slits in ancient stone, like the one she’d squeezed through that time she snuck into the Seer’s Tower. As Vanaheim gained wealth and styles changed, the royal hall had expanded.
“What’s the oldest part of the hall?” Sigrid asked.
Aunt Kaia hummed. “Probably the parts involving magic—the Seer’s Tower, the Sorcerer’s Tower…and one particular room I’ll show you in a moment.”
Sigrid quickened her step to follow her aunt’s graceful strides as they headed down a long corridor connecting two towers. “Will you take me to the Seer’s Tower?” It would be helpful to talk to Vala about what Ratatosk said. Maybe she would have wisdom from the Eye of Hnitbjorg.
Daylight flickered over the queen as they passed windows, illuminating and darkening her in turn. “I’m afraid entry is by Vala’s invitation only. I suggest you don’t knock unless you want to face her wrath.”
“Ah.” But Sigrid had visited her and hadn’t faced any sort of wrath. Did Aunt Kaia not know she’d been into Vala’s tower already? Maybe smashing down her door and climbing through her window had been more reckless than she’d thought. Or maybe Aunt Kaia’s words were untrue. “You’re not allowed to visit her whenever you want? I thought as a royal…”
“The Seer doesn’t take visitors. It’s not wise for her to mingle because it could affect her abilities. I’ve only been through once myself.”
Sigrid had heard about Seers being reclusive, but whether or not Vala regularly took visitors, some things were too important not to discuss.
I guess I’ll be sneaking in again if I go see her.
“Why did you go through that one time?” she asked her aunt.
Aunt Kaia slowed down as if debating whether to keep walking or to stop and face Sigrid. “I…I went to demand that she tell me what happened to my sister.”
Sigrid wished she hadn’t asked. A bubble of nausea rose inside her.
After a long pause, Aunt Kaia said, “She told me Lena took off to Helheim, and it was best that we leave her to her fate.”
Vala, of course, had known a lot more than that. She’d seen a vision of Princess Helena giving birth to Sigrid and taking Sleipnir—the beginning of her plan to exploit an infant in order to get the throne.
Yes, I really shouldn’t have brought this up.
“What about the Sorcerers’ Tower?” Sigrid asked. “Will you show me that?”
“We’re headed there right now,” Aunt Kaia said, thankfully allowing the change of topic. “Can you feel it?”
The question seemed odd, but Sigrid nodded, running her hands over her prickling skin. The air seemed to shift, like static playing at the hairs on her arms.
They stopped at a dark wooden door, and Aunt Kaia motioned to it, her pale face half in shadow. “This is where magical research and development happens. Magic is a complex science. Phenomena appear, shift, and disappear before we can grasp what we’ve witnessed. Sometimes the sorcerers discover the root of some magic and harness it, but even then, the path forward can be difficult. What can we do with the force that makes a leaf change color, I wonder?”
“Make a cloak that changes color in the fall?” Sigrid said.
Aunt Kaia laughed, a glimmer in her eye. “Maybe. Though I’m sure the sorcerers have better uses of their time. Like creating new valkyrie spears.”
Sigrid stepped closer to the door. “Can we go in?”
Aunt Kaia put out a hand to stop her, then pulled back as if regretting her sudden movement. “Sorry. No, we can’t go in. Their work is dangerous, and for the eyes and hands of qualified sorcerers only.”
This made Sigrid feel a little less terrible about Fisk not being allowed to work with the sorcerers. Still, she faced Aunt Kaia, ready to argue. “General Eira refused to let my Night Elf friend work with the sorcerers on studying the iron arrows. He’s going to work with the head stable hand, but we’re missing an opportunity by not letting him help us. He knows their craftsmanship tricks, so he could—”
“I trust General Eira’s judgment, Sigrid,” Aunt Kaia said, sounding unsurprised to hear about the general’s decision. Did she already know? Did she agree?
Sigrid narrowed her eyes. “But Fisk can help us understand—”
“If the elf proves himself, we can see about letting him help with more important tasks,” the queen said. “I hope you understand our trepidation when it comes to Night Elves.”
“I thought under the threat of war, we would want to do everything we can.”
Her aunt let out a breath. “There’s no need to panic, Sigrid. Vanaheim won’t be attacked. Nobody attacks the world that’s home to the valkyries. We have time.”
Sigrid said nothing, unconvinced.
Gods, Aunt Kaia had better be right about this. But she hadn’t met the Svartalf King. She didn’t know how scary he was. They’d rescued Ratatosk right out of the elves’ grasp, and the king wasn’t going to let them go so easily.
“You should be thankful he’s allowed to stay,” Aunt Kaia added sternly. “I’m trusting you, Sigrid.”
Cold disappointment filled Sigrid’s chest. They were wrong to make assumptions about Fisk, and they were going to regret not putting his skills and knowledge to use if they ran into more trouble with Svartalfheim.
She would have to work on everyone’s perception of Fisk. He deserved better.
“Come on.” Aunt Kaia turned down another corridor. “This is the room I told you about. Maybe the oldest room in Vanahalla.”
Despite Sigrid’s disappointment, she couldn’t help the surge of curiosity.
They entered a room that looked more like the chambers she’d taken over from King Óleifr. Rough wood formed the walls, as if they’d stepped into a hollow tree. The humid air smelled like soil.
At the opposite end, leaves sprouted from the wall, twitching as if in a breeze. Aunt Kaia led her to it.
The leaves grew in a pattern shaped like an ash tree, sprouting up from the wood floor and stretching out an arm’s length in either direction.
In an awed whisper, Sigrid could only utter one word. “Yggdrasil.”
Chapter Twenty
The Tipping
World Tree
Yggdrasil, the tree that represented the universe, moved on the wall before Sigrid’s eyes. The leaves twitched silently, and then an entire branch shrank into the wall and re-emerged in a different place, making everything around it shudder.
“Is it alive?” Sigrid whispered.
Aunt Kaia nodded. “Planted with magic when the hall was first built, enchanted to show a live representation of the worlds. See how unsettled it is?”
Sigrid took a step closer and studied it. Big gaps and off-kilter branches made the tree look sick. “What’s it doing?”
“The branches are always in flux, but they usually take centuries to change. In the years since my sister’s disappearance, they’ve moved more quickly. Now…” The queen traced her fingers over the twitching leaves, her brow furrowed.
One branch looked strong and healthy. At the highest point, perching over everything like an eagle, were the letters Ásgarðr. The realm of the gods was immovable, its leaves rooted firmly in the wood, intertwined like a thick canopy.
“This is what Ratatosk meant,” Sigrid said. “Loki has tipped the scales too far into chaos. We’ll have to face him if we want to restore cosmic balance.”
“Loki is certainly responsible for all of this,” Aunt Kaia murmured. “When worlds tip too far into chaos, we get war, natural disasters, disease, people acting on anger and spite… Everything evil rears its head at once when Loki has his way.”
Beneath her fingers, the leaves parted to reveal letters engraved in the wood.
Miðgarðr.
“Midgard,” Sigrid said.
“Sinking lower. Civil strife and disease are ravaging their world. And Jotunheim…”
“Unrest,” Sigrid said, thinking of the senior valkyries. She pushed back a cluster of leaves to reveal the letters Múspellsheimr. Was every world a victim of Loki’s mischief? “Where’s Vanaheim?”
Aunt Kaia reached down to a low branch. “Far out of place.”
There, Vanaheim and Svartalfheim sat side-by-side, their leaves encroaching on each other’s space.
Sigrid’s insides sank at the sight of her world so low. One branch sat lower than this: Niflheim. Its branch was cracked, like a tree struck by lightning.
Mariam’s words echoed in her mind. “Niflheim is in a state… This isn’t normal.”
Below it all, Helheim made up the roots. Sigrid didn’t touch the two lowest realms ruled over by Hel. Or rather, they were supposed to be, but instead Helena had taken over.
Sigrid frowned. What had Princess Helena done to persuade Hel to allow her to rule? She regretted again not pressing her mother for answers.
She crossed her arms and studied the sick, imbalanced tree shuddering before them. “I don’t understand. Are the worlds physically moving, like the leaves of this tree? Or is this like—” She waved a hand, trying to find the words. “Symbolic?”
“The physical positions of the worlds are fixed, but our relation to each other has fluctuated through the ages. You’re seeing the relations on the wall. That is the cosmic imbalance we’re talking about. The bonds between worlds form the fibers that hold up Yggdrasil. As those fibers bend and change, the tree weakens.”
This made more sense than the worlds struggling to be physically higher up. The cosmic imbalance came from weakening connections between worlds. Strong bonds, like strong branches, could bear a lot of weight.
“So a low position in the cosmos isn’t a bad thing,” Sigrid said. “It’s just about who everyone is connected to.”
“No, it matters,” Aunt Kaia said, something sharp in her voice. “Vanaheim belongs next to Asgard, given our history as the home of the Vanir gods. The elves are sorely mistaken to try and push us out—and I’m not just talking about Night Elves. Alfheim has tried to force their way closer than us, and I’m done being nice about it. What business does an elf have with a god?”
Not quite getting her aunt’s point, Sigrid asked, “Can’t more than one world be close to the gods? They can have more than one connection, can’t they?”
“And what would that look like? If the branches become too clustered with all the worlds clamoring for the same spot, waging war, breaking their connections, the trunk will break.” Aunt Kaia took a deep breath before continuing on a more reasonable tone. “This is where we have our problem, Sigrid. It’s Vanaheim’s responsibility to restore order, no matter the cost.”
Her aunt’s shift in mood hung heavily in the air, almost tangible.
Sigrid rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. “Are you okay?”
The queen stared at the tree, her brow furrowed, like she was afraid to look at Sigrid. She fidgeted with her amber crown as if trying to make it sit more comfortably. Her braid loosened, which made her look younger and less polished. It somehow suited her more when she looked this way—like a normal woman instead of the title she was supposed to uphold.
Sigrid hesitated, excitement and nerves doing battle inside her. Who did these chambers belong to before? Whether it was her mother, the dead king, her dead grandparents, or someone else long passed, none of it was comforting.
“Whose—?” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Óleifr’s,” Queen Kaia said, her eyebrows pulling down.
Sigrid’s heart jumped while her mind unhelpfully shouted, Did he die in here?
But no, the room would have been cleaned and freshened for her. Wherever he’d died, there was nothing to be afraid of.
It was strange that her aunt had been so quick to clear out her brother’s chambers. Unless it was easier to put her living niece in there than to face the empty room.
Queen Kaia searched her expression, dipping her chin to meet her eyes. “Is that all right?”
Sigrid nodded. Truthfully, this was better than being given Princess Helena’s old room. At least Queen Kaia had enough sense not to try and do that. “Yes. Of course.”
And without wasting another moment, she seized the massive gold doorknob and entered.
The view took the breath from her lungs.
King Óleifr’s room had a natural, woodsy feel that Queen Kaia must have guessed Sigrid would like. The wooden walls, logs, and the abundance of plants all gave the impression of being deep in Myrkviðr. A cozy fireplace burned in the far wall. To the left, an open doorway led to what looked like a bathroom. To the right, another doorway opened to a study. Enormous paintings took up every wall, horses and gods looking down from every angle. The room’s main feature was an outrageously large bed that could have fit Sleipnir.
Oh—my—gods.
After spending her life paying to sleep in a barn and being made to feel like an annoying pigeon who lived in the rafters, being given this luxurious room felt strange. It could not possibly have been more different from her old quarters.
It was more than she ever thought she would have…and it would be better if she could share it.
Guilt twisted inside her. Mariam was settling into her old stall a few minutes down the hill while Sigrid had a room big enough for both of them. The bed was certainly big enough.
The thought made her face burn as something new and exciting fluttered deep inside her.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you for letting my friends stay in Vanaheim, Queen Kaia. General Eira is accepting Mariam into the valkyrie ranks. She said she knew her mother.”
“Did she? Well, we’re lucky to have a new valkyrie in times like these,” Queen Kaia said grimly.
“Mariam’s wonderful. General Eira made the right decision.”
Queen Kaia raised an eyebrow, and Sigrid’s cheeks warmed. She was maybe-not-so-subtly trying to plant a seed for when she would ask if Mariam could live in the hall.
Before she could bring up Fisk, too, Queen Kaia said, “Call me Aunt. No need for formalities among family.”
Sigrid tested the words Aunt Kaia in her head a few times. It didn’t make her cringe.
She smiled tentatively. “Aunt Kaia.”
With the words still on the air, the queen bid her good night and left, closing the door and plunging Sigrid into silence. There were no stomping hooves, swishing tails, or clucking chickens. Just the crackling fire.
She raced for the bed and threw herself onto it, a lot of feelings washing over her. Excitement. Loneliness. A hint of doubt over her decision to live here. Anticipation over what her new life would hold.
Vanahalla is my home.
The truth was too incredible to believe.
Chapter Nineteen
Vanahalla’s
Ancient Rooms
Sigrid’s first day at the palace began with sandwiches, cereal, and cakes spread across one of the biggest tables she’d ever seen. It was a more lavish breakfast than she could’ve ever imagined. Her usual fare consisted of whatever she could eat while she started chores—apples, bread, and sometimes eggs if she’d had time to boil them.
What are the chances I can smuggle half of this down to my friends?
“First thing we have to do is get you oriented,” Aunt Kaia said, snapping her out of her breakfast-smuggling plans. “I’ll show you the libraries and drawing rooms where you can study, the different wings and towers…and of course we’ll introduce you to the sorcerers and staff later this week…”
The queen wore another blue robe today, apparently from an endless wardrobe of them, and her hair was woven back into a beautiful braid dotted with amber jewels. She thankfully had yet to tell Sigrid to wear anything other than her comfortable tunic and trousers.
Sigrid took a bite out of her sandwich. Oh yeah, she was definitely smuggling a few. “Remember I still have valkyrie training.”
Aunt Kaia raised an eyebrow. “Not today. My brother’s funeral is this afternoon.”
Sigrid’s cheeks warmed. With everything going on, she’d forgotten. “Right. Sorry.”
The queen waved the apology away. “It’s all right. But you should get used to missing a day of training here and there. You have other priorities now. General Eira will understand.”
Sigrid’s heart skipped a beat. Miss a day? No way. “I already missed sixteen years’ worth of training. I can’t skip any sessions.”
Aunt Kaia’s large eyes narrowed in scrutiny. She nodded. “We’ll work around your training sessions, then.”
Sigrid let out a breath, relieved by the answer. But as they ate breakfast, pressure built in her head, as if her list of responsibilities was ready to overflow. She might have been overextending herself, but she was determined to fit everything into her new life—including going to see her horses and riding down to see Mariam and Fisk later.
“Time for that tour I promised?” Aunt Kaia said, and Sigrid put down her goblet so fast that apple juice sloshed out.
They set off through the maze of corridors, passing kitchens full of cooks (who were too busy to notice them), dining rooms full of sorcerers (who looked too intimidating to talk to), chambers that used to be occupied by other royals (which Sigrid had no intention of exploring), libraries with floor-to-ceiling shelves (which she had every intention of spending hours in), gold statues and colorful paintings of gods and valkyries, and a lot of empty drawing rooms that could benefit from some ambient chicken clucks and hoof stomps. The vast hall felt far from home, but hopefully in time, this feeling of insignificance would fade.
There was so much mystery about Vanahalla—a crack in the floor that made her wonder how it got there, a door with no knob, a spiral staircase that led to nowhere. Maybe the most fascinating thing about it was the way it had obviously been built and expanded over centuries—some walls and floors were made of dark, old stones, while others were polished marble and gold. Some windows had beautiful stained glass, while others were open rectangular slits in ancient stone, like the one she’d squeezed through that time she snuck into the Seer’s Tower. As Vanaheim gained wealth and styles changed, the royal hall had expanded.
“What’s the oldest part of the hall?” Sigrid asked.
Aunt Kaia hummed. “Probably the parts involving magic—the Seer’s Tower, the Sorcerer’s Tower…and one particular room I’ll show you in a moment.”
Sigrid quickened her step to follow her aunt’s graceful strides as they headed down a long corridor connecting two towers. “Will you take me to the Seer’s Tower?” It would be helpful to talk to Vala about what Ratatosk said. Maybe she would have wisdom from the Eye of Hnitbjorg.
Daylight flickered over the queen as they passed windows, illuminating and darkening her in turn. “I’m afraid entry is by Vala’s invitation only. I suggest you don’t knock unless you want to face her wrath.”
“Ah.” But Sigrid had visited her and hadn’t faced any sort of wrath. Did Aunt Kaia not know she’d been into Vala’s tower already? Maybe smashing down her door and climbing through her window had been more reckless than she’d thought. Or maybe Aunt Kaia’s words were untrue. “You’re not allowed to visit her whenever you want? I thought as a royal…”
“The Seer doesn’t take visitors. It’s not wise for her to mingle because it could affect her abilities. I’ve only been through once myself.”
Sigrid had heard about Seers being reclusive, but whether or not Vala regularly took visitors, some things were too important not to discuss.
I guess I’ll be sneaking in again if I go see her.
“Why did you go through that one time?” she asked her aunt.
Aunt Kaia slowed down as if debating whether to keep walking or to stop and face Sigrid. “I…I went to demand that she tell me what happened to my sister.”
Sigrid wished she hadn’t asked. A bubble of nausea rose inside her.
After a long pause, Aunt Kaia said, “She told me Lena took off to Helheim, and it was best that we leave her to her fate.”
Vala, of course, had known a lot more than that. She’d seen a vision of Princess Helena giving birth to Sigrid and taking Sleipnir—the beginning of her plan to exploit an infant in order to get the throne.
Yes, I really shouldn’t have brought this up.
“What about the Sorcerers’ Tower?” Sigrid asked. “Will you show me that?”
“We’re headed there right now,” Aunt Kaia said, thankfully allowing the change of topic. “Can you feel it?”
The question seemed odd, but Sigrid nodded, running her hands over her prickling skin. The air seemed to shift, like static playing at the hairs on her arms.
They stopped at a dark wooden door, and Aunt Kaia motioned to it, her pale face half in shadow. “This is where magical research and development happens. Magic is a complex science. Phenomena appear, shift, and disappear before we can grasp what we’ve witnessed. Sometimes the sorcerers discover the root of some magic and harness it, but even then, the path forward can be difficult. What can we do with the force that makes a leaf change color, I wonder?”
“Make a cloak that changes color in the fall?” Sigrid said.
Aunt Kaia laughed, a glimmer in her eye. “Maybe. Though I’m sure the sorcerers have better uses of their time. Like creating new valkyrie spears.”
Sigrid stepped closer to the door. “Can we go in?”
Aunt Kaia put out a hand to stop her, then pulled back as if regretting her sudden movement. “Sorry. No, we can’t go in. Their work is dangerous, and for the eyes and hands of qualified sorcerers only.”
This made Sigrid feel a little less terrible about Fisk not being allowed to work with the sorcerers. Still, she faced Aunt Kaia, ready to argue. “General Eira refused to let my Night Elf friend work with the sorcerers on studying the iron arrows. He’s going to work with the head stable hand, but we’re missing an opportunity by not letting him help us. He knows their craftsmanship tricks, so he could—”
“I trust General Eira’s judgment, Sigrid,” Aunt Kaia said, sounding unsurprised to hear about the general’s decision. Did she already know? Did she agree?
Sigrid narrowed her eyes. “But Fisk can help us understand—”
“If the elf proves himself, we can see about letting him help with more important tasks,” the queen said. “I hope you understand our trepidation when it comes to Night Elves.”
“I thought under the threat of war, we would want to do everything we can.”
Her aunt let out a breath. “There’s no need to panic, Sigrid. Vanaheim won’t be attacked. Nobody attacks the world that’s home to the valkyries. We have time.”
Sigrid said nothing, unconvinced.
Gods, Aunt Kaia had better be right about this. But she hadn’t met the Svartalf King. She didn’t know how scary he was. They’d rescued Ratatosk right out of the elves’ grasp, and the king wasn’t going to let them go so easily.
“You should be thankful he’s allowed to stay,” Aunt Kaia added sternly. “I’m trusting you, Sigrid.”
Cold disappointment filled Sigrid’s chest. They were wrong to make assumptions about Fisk, and they were going to regret not putting his skills and knowledge to use if they ran into more trouble with Svartalfheim.
She would have to work on everyone’s perception of Fisk. He deserved better.
“Come on.” Aunt Kaia turned down another corridor. “This is the room I told you about. Maybe the oldest room in Vanahalla.”
Despite Sigrid’s disappointment, she couldn’t help the surge of curiosity.
They entered a room that looked more like the chambers she’d taken over from King Óleifr. Rough wood formed the walls, as if they’d stepped into a hollow tree. The humid air smelled like soil.
At the opposite end, leaves sprouted from the wall, twitching as if in a breeze. Aunt Kaia led her to it.
The leaves grew in a pattern shaped like an ash tree, sprouting up from the wood floor and stretching out an arm’s length in either direction.
In an awed whisper, Sigrid could only utter one word. “Yggdrasil.”
Chapter Twenty
The Tipping
World Tree
Yggdrasil, the tree that represented the universe, moved on the wall before Sigrid’s eyes. The leaves twitched silently, and then an entire branch shrank into the wall and re-emerged in a different place, making everything around it shudder.
“Is it alive?” Sigrid whispered.
Aunt Kaia nodded. “Planted with magic when the hall was first built, enchanted to show a live representation of the worlds. See how unsettled it is?”
Sigrid took a step closer and studied it. Big gaps and off-kilter branches made the tree look sick. “What’s it doing?”
“The branches are always in flux, but they usually take centuries to change. In the years since my sister’s disappearance, they’ve moved more quickly. Now…” The queen traced her fingers over the twitching leaves, her brow furrowed.
One branch looked strong and healthy. At the highest point, perching over everything like an eagle, were the letters Ásgarðr. The realm of the gods was immovable, its leaves rooted firmly in the wood, intertwined like a thick canopy.
“This is what Ratatosk meant,” Sigrid said. “Loki has tipped the scales too far into chaos. We’ll have to face him if we want to restore cosmic balance.”
“Loki is certainly responsible for all of this,” Aunt Kaia murmured. “When worlds tip too far into chaos, we get war, natural disasters, disease, people acting on anger and spite… Everything evil rears its head at once when Loki has his way.”
Beneath her fingers, the leaves parted to reveal letters engraved in the wood.
Miðgarðr.
“Midgard,” Sigrid said.
“Sinking lower. Civil strife and disease are ravaging their world. And Jotunheim…”
“Unrest,” Sigrid said, thinking of the senior valkyries. She pushed back a cluster of leaves to reveal the letters Múspellsheimr. Was every world a victim of Loki’s mischief? “Where’s Vanaheim?”
Aunt Kaia reached down to a low branch. “Far out of place.”
There, Vanaheim and Svartalfheim sat side-by-side, their leaves encroaching on each other’s space.
Sigrid’s insides sank at the sight of her world so low. One branch sat lower than this: Niflheim. Its branch was cracked, like a tree struck by lightning.
Mariam’s words echoed in her mind. “Niflheim is in a state… This isn’t normal.”
Below it all, Helheim made up the roots. Sigrid didn’t touch the two lowest realms ruled over by Hel. Or rather, they were supposed to be, but instead Helena had taken over.
Sigrid frowned. What had Princess Helena done to persuade Hel to allow her to rule? She regretted again not pressing her mother for answers.
She crossed her arms and studied the sick, imbalanced tree shuddering before them. “I don’t understand. Are the worlds physically moving, like the leaves of this tree? Or is this like—” She waved a hand, trying to find the words. “Symbolic?”
“The physical positions of the worlds are fixed, but our relation to each other has fluctuated through the ages. You’re seeing the relations on the wall. That is the cosmic imbalance we’re talking about. The bonds between worlds form the fibers that hold up Yggdrasil. As those fibers bend and change, the tree weakens.”
This made more sense than the worlds struggling to be physically higher up. The cosmic imbalance came from weakening connections between worlds. Strong bonds, like strong branches, could bear a lot of weight.
“So a low position in the cosmos isn’t a bad thing,” Sigrid said. “It’s just about who everyone is connected to.”
“No, it matters,” Aunt Kaia said, something sharp in her voice. “Vanaheim belongs next to Asgard, given our history as the home of the Vanir gods. The elves are sorely mistaken to try and push us out—and I’m not just talking about Night Elves. Alfheim has tried to force their way closer than us, and I’m done being nice about it. What business does an elf have with a god?”
Not quite getting her aunt’s point, Sigrid asked, “Can’t more than one world be close to the gods? They can have more than one connection, can’t they?”
“And what would that look like? If the branches become too clustered with all the worlds clamoring for the same spot, waging war, breaking their connections, the trunk will break.” Aunt Kaia took a deep breath before continuing on a more reasonable tone. “This is where we have our problem, Sigrid. It’s Vanaheim’s responsibility to restore order, no matter the cost.”
Her aunt’s shift in mood hung heavily in the air, almost tangible.
Sigrid rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. “Are you okay?”
The queen stared at the tree, her brow furrowed, like she was afraid to look at Sigrid. She fidgeted with her amber crown as if trying to make it sit more comfortably. Her braid loosened, which made her look younger and less polished. It somehow suited her more when she looked this way—like a normal woman instead of the title she was supposed to uphold.
