been kind enough to bring the proper devices. You should be glad of his assistance.”
“For what crimes are you executing them?” Freya cried. “What happened to Remi law?”
The rain battered the glass, the wind howling as if a pack of great wolves ravaged the skies. That primal something surged inside Freya, pushing aside caution, awakening. It was powerful, and she couldn’t hope to resist it. Hecate’s blood. She couldn’t describe it, only that it did not want these people to chain it with their rules. At least Freya knew from her Power Dream that she wasn’t really a Beast. But, right now, she wished she were. It would be convenient to turn into a winged lion or a dragon and remove the Romans from Remi lands, whether her parents welcomed them there or not.
“I don’t want to have to hide or be questioned by Romans. I’m more afraid of them than Siegfried the Fox or King Vercingetorix. The Romans are more likely to kill an innocent man, like you might be doing tomorrow.” Freya turned to plead with her father, whose power as a chieftain seemed to be dwindling before her eyes. “If I weren’t your daughter, I’d probably be dying with them, like Odilia said.”
“This isn’t a matter for a pretty girl like yourself to worry about,” her father began, but Freya had no patience to listen to the rest.
“It’s not exactly a secret they want our horses, Father. They’re obviously better than Rome’s, so Rome’s got to have them. Can it be any more transparent? They also want slaves, women for their hair and to keep as sex slaves, men for their strong backs, and we’re giving them this as a damned tribute. If Rome keeps protecting us by taking all we have, then who’s going to protect us from them?”
She met Pompey’s eyes. Pompey did naught but laugh.
“My daughter has suddenly turned her fashion-addled brain to politics, it seems.” Her father laughed nervously as he tugged her away from Pompey by one arm. “Come, child, these matters are not fit for a blushing bride to discuss on the eve of her wedding.”
Odilia rose from her chair, grunting under the burden of her own weight. “You cannot let the pirates see any weakness in our defenses. Freya is a weakness. Etainen will have the real leadership. You’ll be in the palace, dear princess, doing nothing but bearing his babes.”
“Let us not forget that we need Rome’s protection from Vercingetorix,” Adele said.
“There’s always some kind of threat where we need Rome’s protection, isn’t there?” Freya demanded.
Her mother continued patiently. “It won’t end well for any who assists the rebellion.” It was there, in her mother’s tone, the true message. Rome would not hesitate to wage battles against them, decimating their kingdom. Freya wanted to fight, wanted to pick a fight right now, and wield her magic against Pompey and Odilia and anyone else who sought to turn Folkvang into more of a prison that it already was.
The voices around her were being slowly drowned out by the increasing volume of the steady drumming.
“There is little we can do,” her father said, his eyes pleading for her understanding.
“Why is there little you can do? If everyone did as Siegfried did, maybe Rome wouldn’t be such a problem. Sometimes I’m ashamed of both of you, Mother, Father. I wonder who the real rulers are. Odilia, perhaps. And, you know what? Pompey?” She whirled on the general, abandoning all pretenses of being less than competent. “I know you’d love to kill me now. But you need a Remi princess, and guess what? I’m the only one you’ve got. When I am queen, the first thing I am doing is banishing Odilia off Remi lands along with the Romans, under penalty of death. Any who wish to join Vercingetorix’s fight can. But I won’t force them, not like our men are forced to serve Rome. I’ll see to it myself. And maybe, maybe I’ll see to it a lot sooner.” Her voice sounded strange, a snarling voice, a little
“For what crimes are you executing them?” Freya cried. “What happened to Remi law?”
The rain battered the glass, the wind howling as if a pack of great wolves ravaged the skies. That primal something surged inside Freya, pushing aside caution, awakening. It was powerful, and she couldn’t hope to resist it. Hecate’s blood. She couldn’t describe it, only that it did not want these people to chain it with their rules. At least Freya knew from her Power Dream that she wasn’t really a Beast. But, right now, she wished she were. It would be convenient to turn into a winged lion or a dragon and remove the Romans from Remi lands, whether her parents welcomed them there or not.
“I don’t want to have to hide or be questioned by Romans. I’m more afraid of them than Siegfried the Fox or King Vercingetorix. The Romans are more likely to kill an innocent man, like you might be doing tomorrow.” Freya turned to plead with her father, whose power as a chieftain seemed to be dwindling before her eyes. “If I weren’t your daughter, I’d probably be dying with them, like Odilia said.”
“This isn’t a matter for a pretty girl like yourself to worry about,” her father began, but Freya had no patience to listen to the rest.
“It’s not exactly a secret they want our horses, Father. They’re obviously better than Rome’s, so Rome’s got to have them. Can it be any more transparent? They also want slaves, women for their hair and to keep as sex slaves, men for their strong backs, and we’re giving them this as a damned tribute. If Rome keeps protecting us by taking all we have, then who’s going to protect us from them?”
She met Pompey’s eyes. Pompey did naught but laugh.
“My daughter has suddenly turned her fashion-addled brain to politics, it seems.” Her father laughed nervously as he tugged her away from Pompey by one arm. “Come, child, these matters are not fit for a blushing bride to discuss on the eve of her wedding.”
Odilia rose from her chair, grunting under the burden of her own weight. “You cannot let the pirates see any weakness in our defenses. Freya is a weakness. Etainen will have the real leadership. You’ll be in the palace, dear princess, doing nothing but bearing his babes.”
“Let us not forget that we need Rome’s protection from Vercingetorix,” Adele said.
“There’s always some kind of threat where we need Rome’s protection, isn’t there?” Freya demanded.
Her mother continued patiently. “It won’t end well for any who assists the rebellion.” It was there, in her mother’s tone, the true message. Rome would not hesitate to wage battles against them, decimating their kingdom. Freya wanted to fight, wanted to pick a fight right now, and wield her magic against Pompey and Odilia and anyone else who sought to turn Folkvang into more of a prison that it already was.
The voices around her were being slowly drowned out by the increasing volume of the steady drumming.
“There is little we can do,” her father said, his eyes pleading for her understanding.
“Why is there little you can do? If everyone did as Siegfried did, maybe Rome wouldn’t be such a problem. Sometimes I’m ashamed of both of you, Mother, Father. I wonder who the real rulers are. Odilia, perhaps. And, you know what? Pompey?” She whirled on the general, abandoning all pretenses of being less than competent. “I know you’d love to kill me now. But you need a Remi princess, and guess what? I’m the only one you’ve got. When I am queen, the first thing I am doing is banishing Odilia off Remi lands along with the Romans, under penalty of death. Any who wish to join Vercingetorix’s fight can. But I won’t force them, not like our men are forced to serve Rome. I’ll see to it myself. And maybe, maybe I’ll see to it a lot sooner.” Her voice sounded strange, a snarling voice, a little
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