Tattered

Chapter 8

I did not move from my position at the back of the room, but my heart leapt suddenly in my chest. This was what I had been waiting for, my chance to go after Ingrid and to redeem myself. I had to go after her. I knew that now. What was so important at Heorot that she had to leave me to go there? Even as guilt gnawed at me for revealing the information to father, another part of me grew hopeful. This time, I would not fail. I had to be the one to bring her home, to set everything to right, and I opened my mouth to say so.

"Sire, please allow me the honor of retrieving the princess!"

My blood immediately ran cold. Breca had kneeled before my father, his hand placed over his heart in a gesture of sincerity. His expression was appropriately distressed, but I could see through that smug little act easily enough. He almost certainly had it in his head that he would heroically save Ingrid from peril and return to Geatland to marry her. My teeth ground together mercilessly. As if I would ever allow that to happen.

"Father," I spoke up, pushing through the throng of men to stand before Volsung. His eyes, which had been appraising Breca with serious consideration, now turned to me. "I should lead the search party for Ingrid."

"Why?" Father spoke gruffly. "Because you were the one who lost her in the first place? How noble of you." I saw Breca's lips twist up into a smirk and grit my teeth even harder.

"No," I said stiffly. "I know her better than anyone. I'll know where to look for her, where she'd hide." I pointedly glanced at Breca. "And you know that I'm the only one with any chance of besting a troll."

I observed with satisfaction as Breca's mouth once again turned into a frown and father regarded me with renewed consideration, taking in the bandages around my ribs. I had told him that I had fought the troll with ease, nearly defeating it before it had taken Ingrid hostage and run away, disappearing into the mist. I couldn't tell him the truth of it, not that the fight had been much too close, nor that I had virtually let both Ingrid and the troll escape. But thankfully he seemed to accept my story without much scrutiny.

"With all due respect, my lady," Breca said in a tone that clearly indicated his total lack of respect for me. "I grew up sailing the coasts of Branno, and have far more experience seafaring." He turned back to father. "I believe my experience makes me the better choice for the sea voyage."

"Father, you can't expect Hrothgar to treat with a mere ward in such important affairs," I protested. "You must send someone of your own blood or he will not respect our demands."

"Enough!" Father shouted. Both of us jumped a bit at the force in his voice. We stood before him silently, as his cold eyes regarded us, seeming to weigh his options.

Please, I prayed to Odin. I would run away and travel to Heorot on my own by horseback if I had to, but it would take weeks longer than the sea route. By that time, for all I knew, Ingrid could be long gone from Heorot.

After a tense minute of silence, Volsung finally spoke.

"You shall each have a ship," He said with finality. "The seas are rough with the melting snows, and will prolong the voyage. In the event that one of you is delayed or shipwrecked, the other will continue on to Heorot to negotiate with Lord Hrothgar."

Breca and I shot nasty looks at each other, but didn't dare contradict Volsung's conclusion. It's true, Breca would have an advantage over me having grown up on an island, but at least I was being given the chance. These odds, however dismal, I could work with.

"Now, off with you! Give the men my orders," Volsung commanded to the thanes, returning to the matter of defense. "Any soldier seen dawdling will be flogged- I want those woods patrolled at all hours."

Gregor and the other thanes hurriedly affirmed father's orders and left the room to get their men organized. Breca walked out last, a skip in his step and a smile on his face, no doubt off to prepare for tomorrow's journey. I had half a mind to follow him into the hall and explain exactly where he stood as far as Ingrid was concerned, but Volsung's voice called me back.

"Brynhildr," He said sharply, halting my steps. The tremor in his voice sent shivers down my spine. What would it be now? A tirade about my irresponsibility, weakness, and utter failure to protect my own sister? A beating to teach me a lesson? Whatever punishment, I deserved it fully. If only I had been stronger, if only I'd been a better sister, Ingrid would be here still, safe and sound. I would accept my punishment and endure it without fear. Nothing less than Ingrid's scorn could scare me now.

But when I turned around to face him, it was as if all the anger had been leeched out of him. He sat down, hunched over the council table, with a look in his eyes that I'd never seen before. Anguish. Loss. My heart clenched painfully in my chest. After all these years, seeing that he genuinely cared for his daughter was simultaneously surprising and heartbreaking. The sick, twisted side of me observed that all it took was Ingrid disappearing to bring me and my father closer. We'd finally found our one common ground, only too late.

"She is my daughter and heir," he repeated simply. His voice was still hard as iron despite his expression, and he struck me with a meaningful gaze. "Find her."

I stiffened. The implication of his words was not lost on me. Daughter and heir. With Ingrid gone, I was next in line. And if there was one thing in this world that my father and I could unanimously agree upon, it was that I should never take the throne. I had no interest in such a horrid task, and father- well, he would sooner break his own legs than see me rule over Geatland.

"I'll find her," I promised. "I swear it." I turned to leave once more, and once more his voice made me freeze.

"And Brynhildr," He said calmly. "Don't bother returning if you do not."