by Alice Wilde
Roan wakes and watches me for a moment before growling loud enough to wake Li.
“Roan! Sorry, Li.”
Li sits up straighter in his chair and then cracks his neck before getting up.
“Roan seems to think you need help getting dressed,” Li says.
“Um, yes,” I say awkwardly. “I’ve never seen clothes like this for a woman.”
Li walks over to the side of the bed and examines each garment in turn. He frowns for a while before looking at me.
“I don’t know what half of this stuff is for either,” he admits.
The next moment, we both jump as Roan’s leopard shifts into his human form.
“Ahh!” Roan groans as he stretches like a cat. “Finally!”
He rolls off of the bed, tugging one of the smaller quilts off with him and wrapping it around himself. Somehow, even a quilt looks fashionable on him. Roan walks over beside me and puts an arm around my shoulder, kissing me on the forehead.
“Okay, seeing how Li is completely useless in this, I’ll help you,” Roan says before picking up a small piece of fabric and handing it to me.
I take it from him and unfold it, revealing a short pair of pants.
“Undergarments,” Roan says, his face reddening.
Li’s eyes widen and he turns away from us almost immediately.
“I’ll meet you in the Great Hall,” Li says before quickly heading to the door and exiting the room.
“You’d think he’d be used to things by now,” I say with a chuckle.
“He may never have seen a woman’s undergarments quite like that,” says Roan. “I don’t think I ever have.”
We look at each other for a long moment and then burst into laughter over the tiny, white pants. As we catch our breath, Roan pulls me into his arms, our laughter dying away almost immediately.
“I never want to be separated from you like that again,” Roan whispers, caressing my face with one of his hands.
I press my cheek into his hand and feel my heart ache in my chest.
“Roan,” I start to say, but then he kisses me and the world dissolves away around me.
Roan steps forward, forcing me to step backward until the backs of my legs push up against the edge of the bed and I am obliged to sit down. Roan pulls me gently further up onto the bed as he follows me onto it, our kiss unending. I want this moment to last forever, but as Roan pulls away from me for a moment, looking down at me with his gorgeous green eyes from where he’s positioned himself, the tears come.
Roan immediately senses something is wrong and tenderly wipes away a tear as it runs down my cheek.
“What is it, lass?”
I swallow and turn my head to look away, but Roan gently turns me back to face him, making the moment that much harder to handle.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” I say.
Roan’s face remains calm, but I can see the muscles in his arms and shoulders tense at my words.
“I don’t know how to say this.”
“Did Ero hurt you?” Roan asks, his voice hard and cold.
“No. I mean, yes, but—”
Before I can finish my sentence, Roan pushes himself up off the bed and paces around the room.
“I knew there would be trouble,” Roan growls, “and not just from those men. I knew Ero would hurt you. Damien used him again, didn’t he?”
“Roan, please, let me try to explain.”
Roan continues to pace but bites his tongue. I swallow hard, my mouth dry and my stomach twisting painfully.
“It was my fault,” I say.
“Don’t say that.”
“No, this time, it really was my fault,” I say, hoping he can understand some of what I mean by saying that.
Roan stops pacing and slowly turns to face me. His green eyes meet mine and I almost lose all my resolve to say anything.
“After the pyre,” I start, dropping my eyes from Roan’s face and down to my hands, “I felt a connection to Ero that I’ve never felt before. After you and Li were taken away, he told me more about his past, and my heart broke for him. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Roan is standing, almost frozen in place, and I steal myself to continue.
“He must have felt something for me as well because he kissed me.”
I hear a deep sigh of relief, and look up at Roan.
“Is that all, lass?” he asks with a small smile. “I’ll be sure to give Ero a piece of my mind, but that’s nothing for you to feel bad about. I’d never blame you for that. Ero’s a piece of work, and I don’t know how he gets away with it, but even I know he has a way of making women forget themselves.”
“I didn’t forget myself,” I say quietly.
The smile on Roan’s face fades slightly, and I take a deep breath to steady my voice before continuing.
“Roan, I wanted him to kiss me,” I say, a lump rising in my throat. “I begged for him to take me.”
Every remnant of his smile vanishes as he tries to accept what I’m trying to tell him.
“Lass,” Roan says stonily. “Wife. Are you telling me…are you telling me you gave yourself to him? That you willingly let him have his way with you?”
“As much as is possible, under the circumstances,” I admit, my heart dying in my chest as I watch Roan’s composure fall apart in front of my eyes.
“No,” he says, turning away from me and covering his eyes with one hand. “I don’t believe it. He seduced you. I’ve seen him do it before. You were under his spell, that’s all there is to it.”
Roan’s voice cracks as he speaks and he stumbles as he reaches out for a nearby chair to steady himself.
“Roan?”
“Please, don’t say anything,” Roan says, his voice thick and heavy. “I need to think.”
My heart feels like it’s shattering into a thousand pieces, and a strange numbness spreads through my body as I sit patiently, waiting for Roan to speak or do something. Anything. The minutes pass, each dragging on into eternity, when Roan suddenly straightens. He doesn’t look at me, but I can still see the rage burning in his eyes.
“Get dressed,” Roan says, his voice straining to stay calm. “The undergarments, then pants, tuck the shirt, the half-skirt, and belt.”
I hasten to put everything on as he instructs me. At first, the clothes feel strange, but they’re far from uncomfortable. In fact, quite the opposite. I never realized how restraining skirts really are until now. Pants allow for a surprising amount of mobility that I hadn’t really given any thought to before. I’d always imagined the fabric would rub together enough as you walked to cause a similar kind of restraint as skirts do, but that is certainly not the case.
Roan finishes telling me how to place the remaining leather wraps, and I pull on a pair of soft leather boots. I complete the outfit by tying a leather pouch around my waist and tucking a dagger into it.
As soon as I’m finished, Roan crosses the room to the door and opens it. He holds the door wide as I hurry across the room to him and leave. Roan follows me out of the bedroom and slams the door shut behind us.
This isn’t going to be good.
Twenty-Two
Ero
This isn’t how I expected any of this to turn out, but then again, I don’t know what I expected. I survey the room from my new throne, if you can call it that. I’d seen so many different thrones over the years that this wooden chair seems barely worthy of the title.
“What do you plan to do with Bjarke and the assassins?” someone asks next to me.
I clear my thoughts and turn toward the voice to find a pretty young woman kneeling beside me, her hands clenched around the arm of the chair.
“I haven’t decided,” I say, looking at her curiously. “And who are you?”
“I’m Frida,” the woman says. “One of Bjarke’s daughters.”
Damn it. The last thing I need on my mind right now is any of their families. I can’t leave any room in my heart for uncertainty when
it comes to the decisions I must make.
“Go away, girl.”
“Please, my lord,” the young woman says as she lays a hand on my knee and runs it deliberately up my thigh.
I snatch her hand from my body and twist it toward her, just enough to cause a little pain.
“Leave, now, before I have you removed.”
The woman glares at me and then stands and sweeps out of the room, cursing me under her breath. You can never be too careful around anyone. I wonder who sent her, or if she really was one of Bjarke’s daughters.
I strum my fingers against the wooden arm of the chair and contemplate my next move. Whether or not the people accept me as their new lord, I have no intention of staying. But I have to think of a way to leave without causing more trouble for the village.
The doors at the far end of the Great Hall swing open and a group of barbaric, fierce-looking men enter the room following a young lad.
“The men you asked for,” the boy says before bowing and moving off into a corner of the room.
“Men,” I say in greeting.
They all look around at each other in some confusion, but nod their heads at me in acknowledgment.
“I’m sure you’ve heard by now what’s going on,” I say. “Bjarke and his men are awaiting their sentencing.”
“And you’re suddenly the lord?” one of the men says with a laugh, and several of the other men join in.
“Yes,” I say nonchalantly, not bothering to defend myself.
The laughter dies away and they look at me incredulously until one of the men pushes himself to the front of the group.
“If I may,” he says gruffly, “I’d like to raise a complaint against Bjarke, my lord.”
I’m caught off-guard by the statement and hesitate for a brief moment before answering.
“Speak.”
“Over the past decade, our taxes have been raised to an unsustainable percentage,” the man says. “I can barely feed my family, and I believe many of the others feel the same way.”
A few of the men shift uncomfortably in place but don’t say anything.
“Just this past year, we were compelled to give up more than half of our own crops and goods,” the man continues. “I thought that when Bjarke became lord, it would mean more excursions, raids, and wealth for our people, but it’s been years since we’ve set out, and most of us have been forced to take up farming or some other trade to keep our families fed.”
“You make it sound like farming is dishonorable,” I say.
“It is when you’re no good at it. I was born and raised a fighter, and we were well provided for from our raids and trade excursions.”
“I see.”
“There’s something else,” one of the other men says, stepping forward. “It’s not just our crops and wares that we have to give up. It’s our daughters as well.”
“What?”
“As soon as our daughters come of age, we’re supposed to bring them here to the Great Hall.”
I press my fingers against the skin between my eyebrows, guessing what the man is about to say next.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It didn’t start until a few years ago, and we would never have agreed to it, but those who refused always seemed to end up disappearing or otherwise destitute and their daughters even worse off.”
I’d half-hoped that Bjarke’s only offense was against me and that he was just a minor pain in the ass, but this new information means I can’t let him off easy. That young woman here earlier was definitely one of his real daughters or she has a far more sinister connection to him.
“I’m going to need testimonies,” I say. “Can you gather anyone willing to speak up against Bjarke and his men and gather them in the town center at noon?”
The men nod, their mood far more friendly toward me than when they had first entered the room.
“Good. We’ll hold a trial then. Thank you.”
The men turn and leave, and I call the errand boy over.
“Fetch a scribe and the executioner. Oh, and a priest.”
“We have a priestess,” the boy says nervously. “Will she do?”
I nod absentmindedly and wave him off. It’s going to be one hell of a day.
It’s almost noon when Li joins me once again in the Great Hall.
“The others are rising,” Li says.
I close my eyes as my heart skips uncomfortably in my chest, and I don’t know why. The thought of seeing Annalise excites me until I realize she’ll be with Roan. I need to remember not to interfere anymore, no matter how much I want to, and I need to keep my heart hard. I can’t afford to let emotion interfere with today’s duties.
“Bjarke is about to stand trial,” I say. “Join me?”
“I doubt I’ll be much help, but of course.”
Together Li and I head out of the building and down to the village square. Bjarke and his men are tied up and kneeling in a line in front of a massive crowd of people, even more than there had been the night before if I had to guess.
As soon as the people see me, a great cheer rises from them. Li and I draw closer and the errand boy runs up to me.
“This way, my lord.”
He guides me over to a raised platform where a man is seated cross-legged on the ground, scribbling away on a parchment. Beside him stands a tall brunette. It’s the same woman who had approached me earlier in the day claiming to be his daughter. She’s the priestess. This is going to be good.
Li and I greet them with a nod, and the woman gives me a smug smile. It makes more sense now why Bjarke would be able to get so much out of his people. If the gods always seemed to be on his side, who was going to disobey?
The woman isn’t wearing the same dress as she had been earlier. She may have been able to pass for the daughter of a Viking lord earlier, but not now. Her body is barely covered, the deep V of her dress falling to her navel, the thin strips of cloth joining together at the waist of a long skirt in both the front and back. The red of the dress is as dark as blood. She steps forward toward the crowd, raising her arms to the heavens, revealing slits in her dress that rise almost all the way to her waist. Every inch of skin on her back and torso is etched with small black tattoos.
In another time and place, I might have wanted to bed her. Okay, it isn’t even a question whether I would, but all I can think of doing to her now is shoving her over a cliff. We’re about to play a game I had no idea I was supposed to prepare for.
“Welcome, children of Odin,” the woman calls out over the crowd. “Today, we will see the gods perform a true miracle.”
The people cheer, but the sound is forced and seems to be more out of fear than excitement.
“There’s something about her I don’t like,” Li whispers to me.
“You’re not alone in that.”
“As you can see,” the priestess continues, her voice changing to elicit compassion, “your lord and protector is bowed before you. A mortal, not unlike yourselves, but chosen by the gods to lead!”
The people don’t respond to this, instead remaining silent as the witch continues.
“And, just as you have been, tricked by the most devilish of gods to fall from grace…by that man!”
She screams this last part as she points a condemning finger at me, and my mouth falls open at the sudden accusation. I can feel anger rising in me, and I move to step toward her, but Li’s hand on my shoulder stops me.
“Remain calm,” Li says quietly. “I may not be able to understand what she’s saying, but I’m sure she’s going to do her best to make you look like the bad guy here. Don’t let her get under your skin.”
“This man…this man was driven away many years ago, forbidden from returning under penalty of death. Knowing this, he devised a way to escape the fate of the gods by fooling you with magic and trickery. That woman you saw last night is nothing more than a foreign witch!”
“Look who’s talking,” I mumble to myself.
/> “She bewitched you with her body and cast a spell on the minds of men,” the priestess continues. “These poor men kneeling before you are not guilty of these murderous accusations. No, they are merely guilty of the temptations of the flesh!”
I stare at her in astonishment and disbelief. This can’t be going where I think it is.
“For you see, it was she who lured them to her room. She who tempted them with her flesh. She who seduced these poor, mortal men to succumb to her. And what did she do in return? Made it appear as though they were attempting an assassination! Has your lord not banned raiding and excursions? Has he not bade you to throw down the sword and take up the plow? Ridding us of our violent ways and bringing us peace?”
The crowd is beginning to murmur among themselves in confusion.
“Your lord has only ever done as the gods themselves willed,” the woman says. “Do not punish him for his obedience!”
I stand frozen in place. I had underestimated her. She’s far more cunning than I had anticipated, and the crowd is already starting to sway in her favor.
The woman in red looks at me with a knowing smile, gesturing for me to say my peace as she steps out of the way.
I walk forward and look out over the people. My people. Their faces are full of confusion, and some are already shaking their heads at me.
“I never intended to usurp your lord,” I say, my voice calm. “My only intention was to seek help from the people I thought most capable. You. When I arrived, I had no malice, no ill-intent, and I made no claims. Still, I was sentenced to execution by fire, and yet, I survived. I cannot begin to understand how or why, but the woman you saw is no witch.”
“How do you know?” someone shouts.
The question stumps me. I’d never had to prove someone not to be a witch.
“I just know she’s not,” I say, the words sounding even worse out loud.
The woman in red laughs cruelly behind me.
