and failures—was to start over instead of moving ahead. Saylok could learn from the runes, but they would be better served not to worship them. Saylok needed keepers to hold a king’s power in check, but mayhaps they should be keepers of faith and justice instead of keepers of runes.
Princess Alba—Queen Alba—had embraced him with open arms. She asked him almost daily to put his hands upon her belly and listen to the child within her.
“Can you tell today if it’s a daughter?” she would ask.
“I have no experience with such things, Majesty,” he always said. “But the heart is strong and steady . . . and if I had to bet upon it, I would say it is a girl child. A daughter’s heart is . . . different.”
A heartbeat thrummed in Ghisla’s womb as well. Two of them. And if he had to guess again, he would wager they were boys. Brothers.
“We will call them Baldr and Hod,” Ghisla proclaimed, and he could not sway her against it.
He had not grown accustomed to such happiness. Mayhaps he never would.
He was getting to know his brother. Bayr had no artifice and very little ego. He was fierce in his duty, fierce in his love, and mild in his manner. Sometimes Hod would hear his mighty heart and think of Banruud—the sound was the same, like the sea in a storm, the wind moaning through the cave where he’d been raised. Their voices were the same too—the gravel tones and the rumble from their chests. Ghisla said Hod sounded the same, though he couldn’t hear it.
“You share the same voice, all of you. It is one of the things that convinced me, all those years ago, that Arwin spoke the truth.”
Bayr was bothered by his paternity. “He was not a good man, our father,” he said to Hod not long after his coronation, as he studied his kingdom. He liked to climb up on the wall and survey the lands around him. Hod simply liked to be at his side.
“No. He was not. He caused great grief. Great suffering,” Hod answered.
“Does it bother you . . . that we . . . are his?”
“It did. Once. But then I thought of you.”
“Of me?” Bayr asked, surprised.
“Yes. I knew long ago you were Banruud’s. And I knew all the stories of the Temple Boy. So strong. And good. To belong to Banruud meant I also belonged to you. It made me happy. I was honored.”
Bayr did not speak, but he wrapped his hand around the back of Hod’s neck, clasping him like the bear from which he’d descended.
“You could have come to me, Hod. You did not have to sail to the Northlands,” Bayr said, his tone gentle.
“Arwin was always adamant about my training. I have now served three kings,” Hod replied. Then he smiled. “Two of them are dead, though . . . so I don’t know if that is much of a recommendation.”
Bayr laughed, but he grew tender again almost immediately.
“You do not have to serve me, brother,” he murmured.
“But I will. I will guard your heart—and your back—all the days of my life,” Hod promised.
“You sound like Dagmar.” Emotion limned Bayr’s voice. “But surely you want more than to serve yet another king.”
“I have everything I have ever wanted,” Hod professed. “A home on the mount. A woman I have loved from the moment I met her. And hope in Saylok.”
“Ah, brother, we are exactly the same,” Bayr said, setting his hand upon Hod’s shoulder. They stood together thus, listening to Ghisla usher in the dusk with keeper song.
All that was and all that is, all I am and all I wish.
Open my eyes to see, make me at one with thee,
Gods of my father and god of my soul.
Give me a home in hope, give me a place to go,
Give me a faith that will never grow cold.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
As with The First Girl Child, the book that introduced readers to the land of Saylok, The Second Blind Son centers on Norse mythology—Odin, Loki, Thor and all the rest—while veering off into a fantastical world of its own. But when I stumbled upon Hod, the blind god, and Baldr the Beloved in my research, I was stunned! I had already named and plotted The Second Blind Son without even knowing about the mythical Hod or his relationship with Baldr. The story of Hod and Baldr isn’t deeply fleshed out in Norse lore—at least not in any sources I could find—but the bones of the myth fit so perfectly into my own tale that I jumped on the chance to use it as a foundation and build upon it. I hope you love my Hod as much as I do.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wrote this book in the first six months of a global pandemic, and it informed the way the story unfolded. I keenly felt the desperation and hopelessness of being trapped in a world and circumstances I had no control over. When Hod pleads with Ghisla over and over to not give up, I was really talking to myself. Writing books and meeting deadlines always feels like climbing Everest to me. I love it, I’m challenged by it, but it’s hard. It’s so hard every single time. But oddly, this time around, in the midst of so much uncertainty, it became less so. Maybe it was because I put the “hard” in its proper perspective. The truth is, I’m ridiculously blessed to be able to write stories for a living, and each time I sit down at the computer to write, I am reminded of just how lucky I am. My gratitude for that truth is what I most want to express.
Of course I also want to thank my agent, Jane Dystel, and my beta reader/editor Karey White, as well as my 47 North and Amazon Publishing team—Adrienne Procaccini and Jenna Free most of all. I’ve worked with Jenna on the developmental edit for six books now, and she always makes my stories better without dispiriting me in the process. A real talent, that. My continual thanks to Tamara Debbaut Bianco, my assistant, who is faithful and steady and doesn’t seem to mind my tendency to shut out the world for long intervals. She is simply there when I need her, and I am grateful.
And for you, dear reader, I am also grateful. Thank you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amy Harmon is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, USA Today, and Amazon Charts bestselling author of seventeen novels, including Where the Lost Wander, What the Wind Knows, From Sand and Ash, and The First Girl Child in The Chronicles of Saylok. Amy is also the recipient of four Whitney Awards and several Goodreads Best Book nominations, among many other honors in multiple genres. Her books have been published in two dozen languages—truly a dream come true for a little country girl from Utah. For more information, visit Amy at www.authoramyharmon.com.