Before I knew it, I had spent a little more than a week in this place, and it wasn’t a complete disaster either. I almost enjoyed it despite the feeling of my every move being under surveillance. Which I wasn’t a stranger to, but it was the fact that, despite being out of the palace, every move of mine was still calculated, careful, and monitored. I hoped that by faking it so much, eventually I would blend right in, and the rest of the settlement would stop being so wary of me. It would be like I was never a princess to begin with. Never a princess.
I had to forget my identity. Everything that came with it as well.
I sat up slowly, testing my injured leg. It was healing well, thanks to Erik and his orders to Halla to check it. She gave me this paste to apply every night, and I felt much better walking after using it for two nights.
I dressed fairly quickly and practiced a braiding technique Olivia taught me on my curls. My fingers were clumsy and hardly stable. Every time I tried doing this braid, it would only remind me that I’ve never done my hair before. I’m not sure how long I took, but I was sure that I was likely late to the healers’ den, so I pulled on my boots—the worn leather ones Erik had given me—fumbled with the laces, got frustrated, gave up, so I tucked them instead, and headed out.
It was faint at first, but as I approached the courtyard. The sound of drums and pipes grew louder.
Music, a different kind. It wasn’t gentle, nor elegant. If I’m being honest, I’d never heard anything like it. It was upbeat, loud, full of energy, and life.
The settlement had transformed overnight.
Colorful banners hung from every building, their vibrant reds and golds and blues stark against the white snow. The main courtyard—usually a practical space for training and trade—had been decorated with evergreen boughs and carved wooden figures. Tables were being set up along the edges, and already I could smell fifty different spices I didn’t know the names of.
I tried to navigate through the sea of people moving through the space. Hopefully, they wouldn’t comment on me being late when there was such a commotion outside. As I approached the door of the healers’ den, I stopped as my name was called.
“There you are!”
I turned to find Olivia weaving through the crowd toward me, her face flushed with cold and excitement. She wore a dress I’d never seen before—deep green wool embroidered with silver thread around the neckline and sleeves. Her hair was braided elaborately, winter flowers tucked into the plaits.
She looked beautiful.
“What did you need from the healers’ den?” Olivia asked, taking my hand in hers, leading me away from the building.
“Don’t we have work to do today?” I questioned.
“Of course not! It’s the Mid-Winter festival, who in their right mind would work today!”
Suddenly, I recalled how Olivia had told me about all the festivals that are held here, the Mid-Winter festival being one.
As the morning progressed, the courtyard filled with more people. The music grew louder—pipes and drums and stringed instruments I didn’t recognize creating a sound that was both foreign and strangely compelling. Food appeared in abundance: roasted boar, smoked fish, fresh bread, root vegetables glazed with honey, and more varieties of mead than I’d known existed.
“Try this one,” Olivia insisted, pressing a cup into my hands. “It’s made with cloudberries. My mother’s recipe.”
I took a cautious sip. Sweet and tart and warming all at once.
“It’s good,” I said, surprised.
“Of course it is.” Olivia took a long drink from her own cup, tilting her head all the way back.
“Y’know, I was starting to think you’d sleep through the whole thing!” She grabbed my arm, pulling me further into the courtyard. “Now come on, they’re about to start the games!”
The games, as it turned out, were a chaotic mix of competition and entertainment that had the entire settlement gathered around various stations throughout the courtyard and beyond.
Near the frozen lake, a crowd had formed around what looked like organized chaos. Two groups of warriors were grappling with each other on the ice, their boots sliding and scraping as they fought for balance while trying to force their opponents to the ground.
“Ice wrestling!” Olivia explained, her eyes bright with excitement. “It’s exactly what it looks like. Last person standing wins.”
I watched as a massive warrior—I recognized him as Bjorn from the night I got here—managed to hook his opponent’s leg and send him sprawling across the ice. The crowd roared.
“That looks dangerous,” I observed.
“It is! That’s why it’s fun.” Olivia tugged my arm. “Come on, there’s more.”
She led me to another area where a different kind of game was in progress. Players wielded curved wooden sticks, chasing after what looked like a small leather ball across a frozen pond. The pace was frantic, bodies colliding as they fought for possession.
“Knattleikr,” Olivia said. “It’s… well, it’s hard to explain. You basically try to get the ball past the other team’s markers using the sticks. But there aren’t many rules, so it gets rough.”
I could see that. As I watched, one player shoulder-checked another so hard the man went flying into a snowbank. But he came up laughing and threw himself back into the fray.
“Do women participate?” I asked.
“Sometimes! Not usually in the main tournament, the men get too competitive about.” Olivia’s eyes slid to me speculatively. “Why? Interested?”
“Not at all,” I said quickly.
Olivia’s grin widened. “Liar.”
Before I could protest, she was pulling me away again, this time toward a quieter area where people were gathered around tables covered in blocks of ice.
“Ice sculpting,” she explained. “Everyone gets the same amount of time and the same size block. You carve whatever you want, and at the end, the Jarl picks a winner.”
I stopped, genuinely intrigued. The sculptures in various stages of completion ranged from simple geometric patterns to elaborate animals and figures. One woman was carefully chipping away at what was clearly going to be a wolf, its features already beginning to emerge from the ice.
“This is beautiful,” I said softly.
“It is.” Olivia’s voice had lost some of its manic energy, settling into something quieter. “My father used to compete every year. He was really good at it, won three winters in a row.”
The day unfolded in a blur of color and sound and movement. I found myself pulled from one activity to another; Olivia’s enthusiasm was infectious enough that I stopped worrying quite so much about standing out or saying the wrong thing.
I watched the wrestling matches and the brutal elegance of the Knattleikr games. I sampled exquisite cuisine. I listened to children perform a song about winter spirits, their high voices carrying across the courtyard in surprising harmony.
And slowly, carefully, I started to relax.
“Your turn,” Olivia announced suddenly.
I blinked at her. “My turn for what?”
“The friendly Knattleikr match. They’re starting a women’s game in a few minutes. Come on.”
“Olivia, I don’t know how to play—”
“Neither did anyone else the first time! That’s the point.” She was already pulling me toward the field. “Besides, you’ve been training with Ingrid. You can handle this.”
“That’s completely different—”
“Is it though?” She stopped, turning to face me with that knowing look. “Let yourself have fun.”
I couldn’t argue with that. When else was I ever going to get a chance like this?
And somehow, I found myself on the frozen pond with a curved stick in my hands, facing women who looked far too confident.
“Get the ball past their markers,” Olivia said quickly. “Use the stick. Don’t be afraid to check people!” She called out.
Then the game started.
It was chaos.
The ball flew past me in seconds. Bodies collided around me, sticks clacking as players fought for control. I tried moving away from all the commotion at the center, which would prevent the chance of getting injured again. Somehow, the ball ended up getting passed to me, or maybe it just bounced near me. I instinctively tried scooping it up with my stick, then remembered I wasn’t the only one on the field. Immediately had three women bearing down on me.
I didn’t know what I was planning to do next, but I ran for the markers.
Someone was shouting—Olivia, I realized, her voice high and encouraging. The markers were ahead, and I pulled back my stick, preparing to send the ball forward.
Then I was on the ground.
A woman had come out of nowhere, shoulder-checking me so hard I lost my grip on my stick. I hit the ice with enough force to knock the wind from my lungs and slid all the way to the other side of the pond, pathetically.
For a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the pale winter sky, trying to remember how to breathe.
Then I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. I was demolished in a game I barely understood, and I couldn’t have been more glad.
A hand appeared.
“Not bad for a first try,” the woman said, grinning. “Just keep your head up more.”
I took her hand and let her pull me up, still trying to catch my breath.
“See?” Olivia appeared, grinning. “Fun!”
“Absurd, as well.”
“The best kind.” She linked her arm through mine. “Come on, storytelling’s about to start.”
The afternoon melted into evening. Bonfires were lit around the courtyard, flames leaping high. People gathered in circles, the energy settling into something warmer.
I sat between Olivia and Ingrid, who’d appeared sometime during the game.
“Heard you got leveled by Greta,” Ingrid said, smirking.
“I noticed,” I replied, which made her laugh.
An old man stood near the largest fire, raising his hands for quiet. Conversations died down.
“That’s Gunnar,” Olivia whispered. “Best storyteller we have.”
He told a story about gods and giants, his voice strong despite his age. More stories followed—some funny, some tragic, some that felt like warnings wrapped in metaphor.
I was so absorbed that I almost didn’t notice when Erik appeared at the edge of the firelight. He hadn’t been here the whole morning through the afternoon.
Our eyes met across the flames. Then he looked away, turned back, and followed the path illuminated by the lanterns. Back to his cabin, I assumed.
Olivia leaned over to whisper in my ear, careful not to disrupt the storyteller. “Want to head back soon?”
“Soon.”
But I wasn’t ready to leave the warmth, the comfortable press of bodies, the sense of belonging that had settled over the evening.
Eventually, people began drifting away. Olivia walked me partway back before splitting off with a hug and promises to see me tomorrow.
I walked the last stretch alone, the celebration fading behind me.
Erik wasn’t in the cabin when I arrived, but I was too tired to even give it a second thought.
I should’ve given a second thought to the woman who arrived in the village.
Still, I was the one who didn’t belong. My secrets were far more dangerous than hers. If anyone was out of place, it was me.
ns216.73.217.74da2
and then Add to home screen.