FREYA
Alvyna squeezed her hand one last time before ushering her to the front of the group and into the direct line of sight of the wolf-mother.
The leader of the Vargar looked Freya over with dark eyes. Black paint went from one temple to the next, adding to the fierce waves of intimidation rolling off of her.
Suddenly, a massive man from the gathered crowd of Vargar stepped forward and moved to the side of the intricately carved wooden throne. He was hairy and burly with a face creased in anger and lines from age. His hands were cuffed together. Another Vargar was leading him by the leather strap on the cuffs.
âThey bring us a deformed runt!â He turned to the wolf-mother, but she didnât look at him.
Freya felt a chill up her spine while the intimidating woman looked her up and down.
âHow dare you!â Allen Grouse spoke up. âThis is the only eligible daughter of a highly esteemed Nobleman. Sheâs worth much to us and we didnât come to this decision lightly.â His hand was over his chest as if to cue how upset he was. It was almost convincing.
Freya knew she was no loss to them.
âIvar, the decision to keep her is not up to you. You have shown us that we canât trust your decisions.â The wolf-mother leaned forward in her throne, placing her elbows on her knees. âIt is time for peace, brother. Surely you agree?â She snarled at him with impressive canines gleaming behind her red lips.
His head whipped to glare at the wolf-mother with similar dark eyes to his own. The pair glared at each other, and Freya could hear a low rumbling growl from the manâs chest.
âYes, sister, letâs see what your son thinks of the birdâs runt,â Ivar spat at his leader.
Freya thought this must not have been the first time theyâd butted heads. She couldnât blame him. It must be an insult to receive the likes of her.
âHmm.â The wolf-motherâs dark eyes turned to Freya once more, studying her intently. âLittle bird, come closer.â She motioned for Freya to approach.
Freya had to swallow her fear as she begged her feet to move her forward and take the outstretched hand.
Alvyna nudged her from the side.
The Vargarâs hand was warm, and far gentler than Freya could have ever imagined it to be. Fingers gripped Freyaâs and pulled her in for a closer examination.
The wolf-mother tilted her head several times as she let her eyes roam over Freyaâs face and down her petite frame.
âI am Vistra Fargrim, little bird, alpha and wolf-mother to the Vargar. If he takes you, I suppose Iâll be mother to you as well.â
Freyaâs heart thumped in fear. There was a chance the wolf-motherâs heir would ~refuse~ her?
~Perhaps her son got to choose. She hadnât been given a choice. ~
She waited to see what would happen. She had been told that the Vargar would make an offering to their intended, and if the offering was accepted, that was the end of it. They went on to live the rest of their lives together. This was much simpler than the ceremonies the Adaryn had. She was told she would accept the offering, no matter what it was.
The Council had agreed to allow the Vargar their ways, as long as they could still have their own ceremony. That ceremony wouldnât take place until the Blue Winter Moon.
To the Vargar, she would already be one of them today if all went according to plan. She wondered if that was still possible.
She didnât fault them for being angry that she was the bride. A society of strong and savage warriors wouldnât want a runt. They werenât wrong about her being a runt. She had always been small for her age.
Freya trembled. So many eyes were on her.
âHeâs coming.â Vistra turned to the line of trees behind her throne.
Freya could see a tense smile on the wolf-motherâs face. Her heir would make an offering to Freya and start an era of peace. Or he would throw her to the side and start a war.
Freya was thankful that her navy cloak helped hide how her body shook in fear. She looked to Alvyna for support.
Alvyna gave her an encouraging nod. âBe brave,â she mouthed.
When Freya saw the slumped figure emerge from the tree line and a carcass slung across his shoulders, she knew that must be the offering. So that meant he would accept her. Wouldnât it?
She felt like she might faint. All of the air in the camp was still. She could no longer breathe.
The approaching man was taller than sheâd ever seen, even with the weight of the carcass across his back. He had wide shoulders, perfectly toned muscles, and long dark hair. He was covered in deep cuts and smeared with blood. She didnât know how much of the blood was his, and how much belonged to the animal across his shoulders.
No Adaryn man would have had the strength to carry a dead nightboar on his own. Freya was impressed. Their side wasnât offering a runt.
As the man approached, she gasped. His offering was a nightboar. Two of its six tusks were missing, and fresh claw marks had nearly destroyed the rest of the creatureâs prickly hide.
He had killed an alpha nightboar ~himself~?
The man got closer with his kill and the crowd of Vargar parted to let him through. His head lifted, and Freya met dark eyes with glints of a deep red like wine. Blood covered the lower half of his face.
Freya held her breath as they stood in place just staring at one another. She couldnât breathe as she waited to see what his next move would be. Now that he had seen her, would he change his mind?
His emotions were unreadable as he shifted to look her over from head to toe. Again, she was thankful for the cloak to hide under as she wrapped her arms around herself to keep herself from breaking apart. It felt like the longest moment of her life waiting for his next move.
He bent over and dropped the nightboar carcass at Freyaâs feet.
The Heir was giving her the offering.
In this moment, they were setting aside hundreds of years of animosity. As she had been instructed to do, Freya crouched down briefly to show she was inspecting the offering, as if there was any way she would refuse it. No matter what he had given her, Freya knew she had to take it.
She lowered her head with eyes closed to show her acceptance. Her stomach was doing somersaults, and she wanted to hurl up what sheâd had for breakfast.
Freya heard him grunt, and then he stood to his full massive height. He towered over her.
The Vargar and the accompanying Adaryn cheered. Surely this was a sight to see, and those who witnessed this moment would never forget it. The animosity had dissipated into the air for the time being.
Freya smiled at her new partner. She hoped he would be a decent man. She was still terrified of him. He hadnât said one word yet.
And then the music began in the background. The Vargar were immediately drinking and dancing to celebrate the new union.
Freya was still surrounded by her stiff guard. She knew they wouldnât celebrate like the Vargar. Even at the castle party, the guard stayed alert and sober.
âWill you join me at the head of the table? Tonight, we will feast.â The wolf-mother gently placed her hand against Freyaâs lower back.
Alvyna was obviously uncomfortable as she followed close behind. But until the wolves did something wrong, all she could do was watch.