FREYA
A monstrous storm was brewing overhead. Wind rattled the trees as if they were no more than young saplings.
It was the day of the Adaryn Ceremony. At night the moon had gradually begun taking on a blue tint. On this day it would be a brilliant blue, and perfectly round. The Blue Winter Moon.
The weather wasnât ideal for the day that would bring together two warring races. Cold was seeping into the core of everything and everyone. Freya was especially affected by the chill brought on by winter.
The Vargar seemed much better equipped to handling the frigid weather. Either they were happily going about the day on four legs and in fur, or they were clad head to toe in comfortable layers.
Freya only watched them from the entrance to the tent.
Adaryn representatives had already made their appearance early in the morning. They had to have their ceremony before they could comfortably let go of their little outcast and move on with their new comfortable lives.
Cain had left the tent in the morning before Freya woke up. His side of the bed was still warm, and that comforted her when she found he wasnât there. His scent was surrounding her, and she just wished he was there at her side. With his arms around her instead of the layers of furs and quilts.
It was still early in the morning, and the thought of leaving for the mountains before they could have the ceremony was swirling around in her mind. She wanted no part of it. This was a ceremony held in high respect by the people she was raised by. It was tradition to join a couple in this ceremony under a full moon. It was what her parents had had.
She would feel better if all ties were cut to the Adaryn already. Freya had no use for an entire colony full of hens who were more than ready to throw her to the wolves. All those years where they believed the Vargar were monsters, and they were wrong.
Everyone that Freya had met in the camp only showed her that she had a happy life to look forward to when they returned to the mountains. There were thousands of wolves back home in the mountains anxious for the treaty to work.
That was who she was thinking of as she got ready. She owed her new people their peace.
The hundreds of wolves in the camp were excited for the birds to leave so they could celebrate through the night. In fact, most of the pack in attendance was preparing for the party after the ceremony. All the warriors were ready to return to their families.
Freya couldnât blame them for wanting to go back to their own homes.
After the ceremony, the Vargar were planning a hunt followed by a feast. Then in the morning, they would make their way back to the mountain they called home. Freya was excited to see the homes the Vargar resided in. Cain described them as being made of stone and being built on the ground. That alone was enough to thrill her.
Memories of her life in the colony flashed behind her eyes all morning as she waited. Most of them were of her sister, who Freya would give anything to have at her side on this day. It made her sad to think of Raga. And the anger that followed, knowing Ivar was to blame for her death.
Freya wished she could be the one to find and end him. To know that she was the one to avenge her sisterâs death. In those moments where her rage was near to overcoming her, all Freya wanted was to have her bow back in her hands and release an arrow deep in Ivarâs chest where his heart should have been.
Who would try to start a war other than a true beast?
***
It wasnât long into the day before someone came to speak to Freya. The Adaryn were preparing for the ceremony while avoiding the Vargar. Their long-held hatred of the wolves wasnât going to go away anytime soon. Adaryn prejudices were held deep in their bones. Freya half hoped their wings would freeze off in the incoming cold.
Lorraine entered the tent with Amaya carrying the wooden tub the camp used for baths. The sisters worked to fill it full of hot water while forcing Freya to eat for the first time that day.
Her nerves were so riled that she almost couldnât keep down the fresh bread. Nausea had been affecting her in the days leading up to this night.
A hot bath helped. Freya let her muscles release the unneeded tension they were holding onto while she inhaled the sweet scents of the floral oils Amaya had stirred into the bath. Lorraine helped brush out Freyaâs hair that had grown in the time spent in the camp. It didnât feel like it had been that much time since the day she was left here as the sacrifice to the wolves.
âThere is a bird in the camp saying she needs to see Freya. Supposedly she is here to help her dress,â Amaya said, coming back into the tent with a crown of little blue and white flowers.
âA bird to help her dress? Iâve already started on her hair. I donât need a bird getting in my way.â Freya could tell Lorraine had rolled her eyes.
âDid you get her name? Was it Kestrel, perhaps?â There was a hint of eagerness in Freyaâs voice as she asked. Although she hadnât known the seamstress long, she liked her. It would be good to see her again. Freya also knew that the dress for the ceremony was a work of pride for her, and she deserved to see it.
âIt might have been. Will you want to see her?â
âIf itâs Kestrel, Iâd very much like to see her. She made the dress Iâll be wearing, after all.â Freya rose from the tub and hurried to wrap a robe around her body. Inside the tent, the hot water and small fire made the air almost warm. But she knew it was cold outside.
Amaya opened the tent. Kestrel walked in bearing a small basket of seamstress tools. Her eyes lit up with joy to see Freya. Kestrel hesitated when she saw the two Vargar sisters. The feathers on Kestrelâs neck stood on end.
âPlease, Kestrel, come in. No one here would dream of laying a hand on you. Least of all these two. Harmless as pups they are.â Freya made to move in for a hug.
âIâm not harmless! I could take down an entire elk by myself if I wanted to,â Amaya piped up from the tent entrance.
âOf course, you could, Amaya. Iâm sure you could walk your furry hide through fire and come out unscathed if you really wanted as well, right?â Lorraine picked on her sister as usual.
Freya gestured for Kestrel to follow her to the back of the tent where she kept her belongings. She felt bad, remembering all the fancy Adaryn gowns and robes sheâd given away to she-wolves in the camp. Perhaps sheâd better go directly to the chest containing her dress for the ceremony.
Freya knelt on the ground that held the dress Kestrel had made. She knew that Kestrel was standing behind her, eager to see the dress worn for this momentous day. Yet Freya hesitated. She couldnât say why.
This dress would be the last part of Adaryn culture sheâd ever touch. After this, she might not ever see or speak to Adaryn again.
âWell, open her up. Letâs see the dress!â Amaya encouraged.
âAre they going to stay in here with us the entire time?â Kestrel asked in a low whisper, not knowing the Vargar hearing would still pick up her low voice. Freya understood the girl had been taught to fear the Vargar. But that would end here.
âOf course, they will, Kestrel. These are my friends, Amaya and Lorraine. Theyâve helped teach me so much about their culture and way of life in the time weâve been together. Iâd trust them with my life.â
Kestrelâs shoulders lowered, and she cast a very shy smile in their direction. Freya wasnât one to miss the blush on Kestrelâs cheeks as her eyes raked over Amaya. It did take a lot to stop herself from smirking at the little Adaryn staring at the Vargar warrior.
Freya allowed Kestrel to do the honor of pulling the dress from the chest. The sisters standing behind them let their jaws drop to the floor as all of the layers of soft fabric were pulled out and gingerly laid out on the foot of the bed.
Kestrel immediately got to work examining every inch of the dress for any imperfections it might have gathered while being stored in the wooden chest. She ruffled her brown feathers happily, seemingly proud that there wasnât a stitch out of place.
âAll right, there are many here to watch this ceremony and it has to go off perfectly if we want to make sure that there is peace for the rest of our happy lives,â Kestrel stood and turned to the sisters. âWill you help me in making sure that Freya is the only thing anyone will want to look at today?â
âOf course! Now move and let me finish with her hair!â Lorraine rushed forward and had Freya sitting in an instant.
They all got to work in preparing every detail they could from inside the tent.
The uneasy air that followed Kestrel with her fear of working with the wolves dissipated. Seeing them fall into an easy rhythm of brushing and braiding hair, then moving onto helping Freya ease into the dress was miraculous.
Surely no one in centuries could have seen this moment coming. The wolves were taking care of a bird as if she was one of theirs.
Kestrel managed to boss around Lorraine when it came to Freyaâs hair. It had to be braided in a way that the Adaryn in witness to the event would approve and also show off her handiwork on the dress she had created. It didnât escape Freya that Amaya was the more willing of the two to obey the seamstressâs commands.
She thought of the love between her sister and her Valkyrie commander.
Could it happen again? Could another of the wolves fall for another of the birds? She hoped these two would keep talking.
Finally, they had her ready. The ivory off-shoulder tulle dress was snug around the chest and waist. Long sleeves puffed slightly from the arms and were tied with silk at the wrist. Multiple layers of the soft tulle material spread out from the hips and flared down to where the hem of the dress skimmed the ground.
But what stood out the most on this dress were the pieces of armor that had been shaped into a corset. Anyone with eyes could see that this was a piece of Valkyrie armor adorning the dress for Freyaâs ceremony. It looked like her sisterâs armor, but there was no way Kestrel would have been given Ragaâs armor.
The back of the dress dipped low to reveal her feathers, and with her hair braided up intricately, it was easy for the eyes to be drawn to the standout feature that marked her different from either side.
No Vargar had feathers as she did. And the Adaryn all had their wings, where hers were missing.
All the women in Freyaâs tent began to pick up on the sounds of a growing and restless crowd. The Vargar were agitated. And there was the added noise of highborn Adaryn gossiping about Ivar still being missing, and the wingless bird being given away. They never knew when to stop.
Tightness in Freyaâs chest only spread throughout her body the closer they got to the ceremony. When the moon got close to the perfect placement in the sky, they would be summoned.
Her father was supposed to be here. It was tradition for the family of the bride to give her away. Yet, Freya doubted her father would be here unless he had been forced to do so. He had given her away already, hadnât he?
But if it hadnât been Freya in this spot, it probably would have been some other Adaryn girl. Maybe someone else who would not have seen Cain the way she did. Maybe even someone like her sister who had already found love.
Not having wings gave Freya an advantage here. She could easily spend the rest of her life on the ground with the wolves, whereas any other Adaryn girl with her wings would have been miserable. And the thought of Cain with another left a pain in her chest sheâd rather keep at bay.
They were the only option for one another now.