Feminist Historical Fantasy The Weaver and the Witch Queen Explores the Complex Bonds of Female Friendship

Author Genevieve Gornichec’s debut novel The Witch’s Heart is one of the best books that hit shelves in 2021 (and one that you probably haven’t read). A rich, lyrical reimagining of the story of Norse giantess Angrboda, who is primarily remembered as the mother of the trickster god Loki’s three monstrous children, it’s one part love story, one part apocalyptic vision, and a quest tale that literally spans thousands of years. (It’s incredible, is what I’m saying.) It also instantly cemented Gornichec as an author to watch in the historical fantasy space, a writer whose dedication to centering female perspectives in historical stories in which women are often treated as little more than afterthoughts. Or outright villains on the days they’re remembered at all. 

Her second novel, The Weaver and the Witch Queen puts a slightly magical spin on the origins of the woman who would come to be known in the Norse sagas as Gunnhild, Mother of Kings. In those tales, she’s almost universally remembered in a negative light—as most powerful women from history tend to be, particularly when few facts about their lives survive. But what we do know is that she was an influential and powerful figure in her own right, who is frequently connected with sorcery (a trait she once again shares with women from history who dared to position themselves as anyways equal to men). 

Gornichec’s book takes the scant details about the historical Gunnhild’s life—her author’s note has some helpful details about which specific sagas her story draws from—and spins them into a rich and magical tale of sisterhood and survival, revenge and sacrifice, with a satisfying dollop of enemies to lovers romance and trans representation on top. The historical world she constructs is rich and vivid, full of the sort of lived-in, careful details that make the setting come alive on the page. Yes, there are plenty of dark, dangerous elements—raids are frequent, death is commonplace, and, violence lurks on the fringes of almost every interaction. Power is only held by those who can keep it, who find themselves frequently under the constant threat of betrayal or ever-encroaching paranoia about who, if anyone, they can trust. Families—most often sons—turn on one another in the name of personal advancement, and almost everyone is willing to do pretty much anything for a shot at a crown. 

The Weaver and the Witch Queen follows the story of Gunnhild, daughter of a largely absent noble father and a distant, unloving mother, who has been friends with Oddny and Signy, two poorer sisters from a neighboring farm all her young life. The three have sworn a blood oath to always be there for one another, come what may, until a visiting seeress visits a dark prophecy on the trio, in which their futures are inexplicably bound together, their destinies clouded by the fate of one of their number. 

 Desperate for the chance to control her own life, Gunnhild runs away from home (with the help of the very same seeress) and begins training to become a witch, while the Ketilsdottir sisters return to their parents’ farm, their reputations already in tatters. 

Twelve years later, Gunnhild has become a talented sorceress in her own right, capable of projecting her mind outside her body and performing other impressive magical feats. Back home, Oddny longs for a quiet life as a healer, while Signy tries to use her body to find a rich man willing to take her away from the village that’s already judged and found her wanting. But a surprise raid on the family farm sees the sisters torn apart, and Gunnhild must return to help Oddny track down her missing sister and rescue her from the life of slavery into which she’s surely been sold. It is, after all, what sworn sisters do, and no matter how many miles or life choices have biome between them, that is what these three women are. (And they have the linked scars to prove it.)

Of course, nothing about their journey is simple, and as their quest continues they find themselves joining the retinue of Erik, King of Norway, who requires Gunnhild’s help against the witch who is hunting him for slaying her master—who also happened to be his own brother. (It’s Viking stuff. It’s always complicated.) Also part of Erik’s retinue is a man named Halldor, one of the individuals directly responsible for the raid that killed Oddny’s mother, and although he vows to pay her restitution in silver, as a broke mercenary he’ll be working off that debt for a long time. As the group works to discover both where Signy has been taken and the plans of those plotting against Erik’s rule, Gornichec deftly together weaves together political intrigue, self-discovery, romance, and the shifting relationship between the two young women whose lives have turned out so very differently than they once imagined when they were girls.

Gunnhild’s marriage-of-convenience to something more relationship with Erik makes for delightful fun for anyone (cough me cough) who can’t get enough of an enemies-to-lovers story that’s centered on two stubborn, exceptional people who are ultimately made better—and ultimately so much worse—through their love for one another. Oddny’s slow journey into her understanding and accepting her own power is deeply satisfying to watch unfold, as she learns to trust her own instinct and abilities in a way her quiet life at the loom would never have allowed her. But most of all The Weaver and the Witch Queen is a story about sisterhood and the incredibly complex, satisfying relationships between the three women at its center, who may not always get along—or even like each other all that much—-but who love one another anyway, even until the end of the world. Now that’s relationship goals.

The Weaver and the Witch Queen is available now wherever books are sold. 

Lacy Baugher Milas is the Books Editor at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter @LacyMB