“The house of Asgard has long been the shield of the North, defender against the shadow to the south,” said the konge, brows tense.

“I wish to see Asgard’s walls secured. And for the honor and strength of Norge to be preserved, its sons need fierce, faithful mates at their sides.”

Torden nodded, heart in his eyes. My own heart was thundering; it sounded loud in the noiseless hall.

Every person in the room watched Alfödr. No one had been expecting an announcement tonight.

Torden reached into his pocket. Something tiny glittered in his pale hand, catching the firelight—a ring. But his eyes were on me.

For once, despite the cost, I was glad to feel beautiful, in a beautiful gown.

But then his father spoke.

“Selah, Seneschal-elect of Potomac,” said Alfödr. “You have brought spies and treason into our midst. Therefore, I decline to extend a proposal to you on behalf of my fifth son, Torden of Asgard.”

Valaskjálf was cemetery-silent, lead-heavy with the stares of Alfödr’s heerthmen. I stared at the king, paralyzed, cold all over.

Torden’s hand was very still around mine.

For a long moment, I couldn’t speak.

“Spies?” I finally blurted. “Treason? Konge Alfödr, what do you mean?”

“Perhaps you ought to ask your captain.” The king stared at me. “Perhaps you ought to get to know your crew.”

I glanced at the high table. Cobie and Lang were tense, as if ready to run for the door. Torden’s brothers were pale with horror. Aleksei’s mouth was wry and sharp and strained as a garrote wire. Anya was still nowhere to be seen.

“It pains me,” Alfödr said, glancing down the table, “to cause my children pain. But my true-born children must serve Asgard first and truly, even if my adopted children do not.” His eyes lit on Aleksei, then drifted away, searching for something, then narrowing.

And even as his father’s eyes moved on, something hardened in Aleksei’s face, some determination I didn’t understand.

“Father,” Torden began, shaking his head.

Suddenly, Valaskjálf erupted in whispers. Huginn and Muninn swept down the great hall’s center aisle, like ravens descending on a wind.

The room held its breath as Alfödr conferred with them, then turned a fierce glare on me. “This is your doing, isn’t it?” he demanded. He looked down the table again, on his left and on his right, his gaze fixing on the empty chair next to Fredrik.

“What?” I stammered. The konge stomped toward me, lowering his voice so the rest of the hall couldn’t hear.

“Anya,” he said furiously, “is missing.”

54

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My voice was unsteady, even above the noise of the dancers and musicians the konge had ordered to begin.