Chapter 13
Freydis
The next morning, I went straight to Ragnar's room. There, I saw the door slightly open, and servants were busy keeping the room clean.
Once they were gone, I walked towards the mattress where Ragnar lay asleep. He was shirtless. My eyes trailed over the black ink tattoos on his chest. His shoulders were broad, and his dark hair fell over them.
I wanted to touch his muscles. I wanted to feel them under my fingertips.
I swallowed hard as I stared at his body. But then my brows drew together, worries on my face. I couldn't find any wound or scar from the injury he sustained yesterday.
I frowned. The wounds couldn't have healed overnight. It wasn't possible.
Taking a step closer, Ragnar's eyes cracked open, staring at me.
"Freyja?" he called, rubbing his eyes. When he was fully awake, he grabbed his tunic and sat up on the bed, eyes wide. "Good morning. I did not expect to see ye here at first light."
"I came to check on you, but your body is telling me otherwise," I said. "How are the wounds gone overnight?"
"Aye, the wounds," he smiled. "I called the gods to stitch my flesh back together."
"And they did?" I asked, surprised.
"Aye. What else did ye think?"
"How does things work like that?" I asked.
"The gods always answer our call," he said. "But there are folk who make the hearing easier. Touched by the gods, blessed by them. We call 'em god born, or goddess born."
Flashbacks of what happened in the church flooded my head. I remembered the vamprye male calling me a goddess born.
I looked at Ragnar with a frown. "Goddess born?"
What does that even mean?
"They're born of the gods, their veins carrying the blood of the old gods," he said. "Strong, aye. Blessings to some... a curse to others."
"The vampire male at the church.... he called me a goddess born."
Ragnar fell silent. The muscles in his jaw twitched.
"Do you know something?"
He raised his head to me. "He's right. Ye're a goddess born."
"What?"
"The mark on your lower back, Freyja," he said as he rose to his feet. "'Tis no Devil's mark. But it is the mark of the gods. Ye are their blood."
I shook my head.
"Ye are blessed by the goddess," he said. "Why do ye think I call ye Freyja? The name was never a nickname. It was already written in your blood."
I looked at him. "Why?"
"'Cause ye look like her," he said. "And I believe her blood runs through ye."
"Nay," I shook my head. "That's a Devil's mark. I am no goddess born."
"And why do ye say so?"
"Because the mark drives me mad, and... getting mad is a sin," I said.
"Aye, that be what the Church and your father led ye to believe."
"But that's the truth."
"Ye should listen, Freyja. The mark on your back... 'tis no Devil's mark. Ye are blessed and favoured by the gods," he said. "If only ye knew how great your worth is."
"And why should I listen to you? You serve the old gods, and that is a sin in the eyes of the Lord."
"Freyja—"
"Don't call me that. I have a birth name," I said.
I exhaled sharply, avoiding his eyes. I didn't want to hear any more from him about the mark on my back. All I know is that it's the Devil's mark. I would be labelled a witch by my people if the mark was seen. If only I could take it out of my skin. I have tried scraping it out with a knife numerous times, but the mark came back.
"Ye've got dark orbs beneath your eyes," Ragnar said, drawing my attention to him.
I turned. "I couldn't sleep last night because I was worried for you."
He smiled. The both of us were silent again, and we just stared at each other. Now that we were very close, I realized how good-looking Ragnar was. His breathing was hoarse, falling on my face. I could feel the warmth of his skin.
"Are ye pleased with the view?" he asked.
My eyes widened.
"Ye're blushing," he murmured.
"Nay, I'm not," I grumbled, taking a step backward.
"I see no reason for ye to be ashamed of it," he said, moving closer.
"I'm leaving to the dining room. See you later," I quickly turned around and headed out of the room. My heart was beating fast as I left, and I brought my hand to feel my cheek. It was warm, which meant I was actually blushing.
I hurried to the dining room to see everyone gathered. The warriors were seated, drinking mead and eating food. I walked toward the empty chair and sat down across from Brok. There, I saw him, seated next to his sister. She was smiling at me, but the smile was something else.
"Oh, you are here, Freydis," she said.
Brok stared at her, and I frowned at the look in his eyes. He wasn't looking at her like a brother but like she was his lover.
"We were just talking about you," she said.
"The courting would begin today," Brok said, giving me a tight smile.