Ledger looked regretfully at his half-eaten plate but eventually nodded.
* * *
“HadI known you were one of Odin’s sons I would have died with a smile on my face.” He finally said after Vali explained the events leading up to his entrance at Drakame. “To be slain by an Aesir god is all an Ostman could ask for in the end.”
“I am not a god,” he reminded the man. “Godhood requires a following and ceremonial duties, and I have neither.”
“Aye, but the other men don’t have to know you’re not an officialgod. I still have a reputation to keep around here.” Ledger unstrapped the axe at his side and stood across from a training dummy. He led the elfin towards the training grounds which lay empty beneath the cover of night. The bloodlust of the fallen warriors now sufficiently satisfied for the rest of the night, only to return with vengeance in the morning.
“You Ostmen and your reputations,” he shook his head. “Ailsa told me you were highly revered as a shieldmage.” He sparked the conversation with a subtle fact.
“My daughter speaks toyou?”
“Yes, right after she tries to stab me.”
Nodding in approval, Ledger pitched his axe at the wooden man across the throwing field, a streak of gold followed as his magic increased the weapon’s momentum, shattering the dummy at the end of the field. “Only shieldmages come from Drakame. My clan was respected and feared, unchallenged in most political disputes. Our magic made us invaluable to the king, and we were paid well for our support—and to keep my family’s line from claiming his throne.”
“You didn’t want the throne?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want it. But our ancestors made a contract with the throne long ago, and Ostman are nothing if they do not honor their word. Even if the decision was made long ago by people in different situations… different ambitions.” Ledger stepped in line with an undamaged dummy and picked up a spear.
“Why are shieldmages only from Drakame?”
The man faltered with the spear when Vali asked, before throwing it clean through his sparring partner. He sensed he just prodded a sensitive place.
“Why are you asking me about Drakame? I thought this was about my daughter,” he asked, rolling another spear in his palm.
Vali picked up a dagger the length of his forearm from the arsenal of weapons lining the table behind them. “We’re getting there. Answer the question, Ledger.”
He tapped the tip of the spear against the ground in careful thought. “They’ve been in my family for centuries. I am a direct descendent of the first shieldmage. And from him, the line branched throughout Drakame. Those born with the power must remain in our clan to practice their gift. If an Ostman breaks that code, they are executed. That is the law. The gods blessed our line with magic—”
“Is this what you truly believe or what you’ve been told to say?” Vali was skeptical the gods would give humans magic. It went against the laws of their realm, throwing off a carefully constructed balance. In the fae realms, magic and life were one in the same. It was a give and a take. A relationship. But these heathens had no bond with the earth or the life inside it. And it was difficult to believe the gods would share their dominion over life in Midgard with their patrons.
“It is as I said,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “A gift.”
“From whom?” Vali arched his brow.
Ledger squinted his small eyes, their hazel nearly black in the moonlight. “Why does a fae concern himself with the magic of mortals?”
“Becausemymortal was given a power that should not have fallen into her delicate hands.” His palm gripped the steel.
“Your mortal?” Ledger scoffed. “My Ailsa does not belong to you. She discovered the Tether by accident—”
“I don’t think she did. I don’t think it was by chance at all that the ring was passed down through her mother’s line. I don’t think the wind whispered your name without reason.” He flipped his wrist and the blade gleamed in the starlight. “But do you want to know the most damning evidence of all?”
The man sucked his teeth. “What?”
“Centuries ago, when your great grandfather was dubbed the firstshieldmage, the witch Gullveig was traveling the Nine Realms and was at the peak of her popularity right before Odin took her as his personal seeress. I wonder, perhaps, if your family called on the sedir witch to give your clan an advantage.”
“I’ve never heard of Gullveig. And we do not practicesedir.” Ledger spat the word like it tasted bitter on his tongue.
“Is that why you burned the seeress who came to Drakame?”
“How do you—”
Vali interrupted his question with a boastful grin. “Ailsa likes to brag about her father. She’s told me much of your history and the events leading up to my arrival in Midgard. But I wonder if you deserve an ounce of her admiration.”
Ledger’s eyes dropped, unable to hold his gaze. Shame was reclusive, never enjoyed being seen. Vali knew this well. Ledger spoke quietly, “I never deserved Ailsa as a daughter. She was too kind to belong to me, too forgiving. She should’ve had her mother, and I would have traded places with Astrid in a heartbeat so they could have been together.”