A shield maiden fights to break the shackles of prophecy--and to overcome the betrayal of the man who broke her heart--in this searing conclusion to the Norse-inspired fantasy romance duology that began with the bestselling The secret of her divine heritage revealed, Freya finds herself on a path that will see thousands of lives lost to the magic in her blood. Desperate to avoid this dark fate, she risks an alliance with Skaland’s greatest enemy to seek answers from the seer who foretold her future--the same seer who sent Bjorn to kill her. While Freya still seethes with rage over Bjorn’s betrayal, the blood oaths that bind her demand that she keep him close as she hunts for a way to avert the looming war. Her magic draws her to the front lines of an old enmity, embroiling her with Nordeland’s Unfated--children of the gods who serve the king she was raised to fear. The same king who, unlike Bjorn, is now willing to fight at her back. For despite the desire that burns hot between Bjorn and Freya, his growing distrust of her chosen path threatens to drag them further apart. As war approaches, gods and mortals must choose their weapons. Yet the fiercest battle will be the one Freya wages within herself. With the magic of two goddesses burning in her veins, she must weave the threads of destiny to decide her own fate: Will she be the shield that protects her people or the curse that destroys them?

Autorentext
Danielle L. Jensen is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of A Fate Inked in Blood, A Curse Carved in Bone, and the Bridge Kingdom, Dark Shores, and Malediction series. Her novels are published internationally in twenty-one languages. She lives in Calgary, Alberta, with her family and guinea pigs.

Klappentext

A shield maiden fights to break the shackles of prophecy—and to overcome the betrayal of the man who broke her heart—in this searing conclusion to the Norse-inspired fantasy romance duology that began with the bestselling A Fate Inked in Blood.

The secret of her divine heritage revealed, Freya finds herself on a path that will see thousands of lives lost to the magic in her blood. Desperate to avoid this dark fate, she risks an alliance with Skaland’s greatest enemy to seek answers from the seer who foretold her future—the same seer who sent Bjorn to kill her.

While Freya still seethes with rage over Bjorn’s betrayal, the blood oaths that bind her demand that she keep him close as she hunts for a way to avert the looming war. Her magic draws her to the front lines of an old enmity, embroiling her with Nordeland’s Unfated—children of the gods who serve the king she was raised to fear. The same king who, unlike Bjorn, is now willing to fight at her back. For despite the desire that burns hot between Bjorn and Freya, his growing distrust of her chosen path threatens to drag them further apart.

As war approaches, gods and mortals must choose their weapons. Yet the fiercest battle will be the one Freya wages within herself. With the magic of two goddesses burning in her veins, she must weave the threads of destiny to decide her own fate: Will she be the shield that protects her people or the curse that destroys them?

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

Freya

The storm struck without warning, attacking the drakkar and driving us away from the rocky coast with such ferocity that the gods themselves must not have wanted us to cross the strait. As the Nordelanders struggled against the violent waves, any visions I might have had about the glory of raiding across the seas were swiftly dissuaded by the cold. By the wet. But most of all, by the endless vomit.

Not mine, as my sea legs were strong, but the contents of the stomachs of nearly everyone else, including Harald’s hooded thralls, was filling the hull. Better to wade through vomit than to lean over the side and risk being swept away by the angry sea.

“What a disappointment it will be,” I shouted over the thunder and the raging waters, “if all your plots and all your schemes amount to nothing because we are drowned beneath the sea!”

All on board glared at me, though Tora’s glare held little threat given that a stream of vomit spewed from her lips in the middle of it. I laughed and leaned against the hull where I sat beneath a seal hide coated with my magic to keep the spray from soaking through. “Or perhaps not even such a glorious death as to be claimed by Njord, but a death by turning your own innards into outtards. I have heard such grand tales of Nordelander ferocity, but this is pitiful.”

“Is she ever silent?” Harald demanded of Bjorn. The king of Nordeland was not immune to the tossing waves and his temper was fraying as a result. I gave him a beaming smile and was rewarded with a scowl.

Bjorn only bent over the oar he was manning, unaffected by the waves. Which was regrettable. If anyone deserved to taste the sour burn of bile, it was him and his lying tongue.

“You’ll know no peace, Father,” Bjorn finally answered, the muscles of his back straining against his tunic as he put his strength into rowing. “But I’ll remind you that you invited her vitriol upon yourself.”

Harald’s jaw tightened. Yet instead of offering a retort, he only leaned into his own oar, thin arms laboring. Not even Nordeland’s king was absolved from rowing through this nightmare, everyone’s strength required to keep us from floundering. The Northern Strait was notorious for claiming lives, and Njord’s domain cared not for the power of kings.

Nor the children of gods.

A wave rolled over the drakkar and water slapped me in the face with such violence it hurt. Fear rose in my chest, for it was impossible to breathe in the icy deluge. The vessel tipped and slid down the trough between swells, the blackness of the depths seeming to reach for me. I clung to what handholds I could, nails scratching on the wood and my ears ringing with the shrieks of the thralls who lost their grips. To fall meant death, for there was no salvation in the crushing sea.

Yet my fear faded to longing as I stared at the dark water. It whispered words promising relief from the grief that clawed at my heart. From the rage that plagued my soul. From the loneliness that hollowed my insides, for I had lost everything that mattered to me, including my purpose.

The sea reached for me, and my fingers slackened, my broken heart yearning for the respite from the pain. To be drawn down down down into the darkness.

Only for my grip to tighten as Hel whispered in my head, Why concede when you have the power to take back all that should be yours? The power to reclaim all that has been stolen from you?

I don’t have that power.

Her laughter was soft and yet as loud as thunder in my skull. You are the mistress of death, Daughter. All who draw breath fear your power.

I don’t want to be feared.

My mind’s eye filled with a smile that was half curved lips and half naked bone. The sight made my heart gallop, though it was her words that made my hands turn to ice. Fear is the weapon that will win you what you want.

The drakkar righted itself, no longer at risk of being swamped.

I wiped the salt from my eyes, not sure if it was tears or seawater, only that the roar of my pulse had nothing to do with my near brush with death.

Fear is the weapon that will win you what you want.

What did I want?

I did not know, but the torrent of emotion in my guts needed an outlet. My eyes latched on Steinunn vomiting up seawater, and I shouted, “Skald, will you write a song of this crossing? If you do, let it be called The Saga of the Seasick. Or perhaps Quest of the Queasy. No . . . Yarn of the Y…