by A. E. Rayne
Runa pursed her lips, remembering what a miserable man she had married. ‘I don’t mind if he does.’
Bram grinned, happy to hear it. ‘Well, hopefully, we’ll leave tomorrow, once we’ve had a think about how it will go, so best get your things and be here in the morning. Thorgils and I will have to organise ourselves and speak to the king.’
Runa smiled, happy to have a purpose and a reason to escape Morac; one he could hardly argue against. ‘I’ll be here,’ she said as Bram showed her to the door. ‘Elona left a tincture on the table. You should try and give Odda some if she wakes. One spoonful is all she needs.’
Thorgils nodded and turned towards his mother. He sat down on the tiny bed, which groaned loudly, gently taking Odda’s cold hand in his.
Life was a gift from the gods, and here was an opportunity for him to start living again before it was too late and he was lying in his own bed, waiting for the gods to come for him.
Isaura. He closed his eyes, still vibrating in surprise and shock and most of all... hope.
‘What do you see?’
They were alone in Ayla’s cottage, sitting on stools on opposite sides of the fire. Making plans. Nervous and excited.
But mostly nervous.
‘I...’ Ayla stared into the flames. ‘I see fire.’
‘Truly?’ Isaura laughed, uncertain if Ayla was teasing her.
‘I see darkness and fire and storms and death,’ Ayla went on. ‘So much death.’
‘Well, that’s not a great portent, is it?’ Isaura whispered, glancing at the door. ‘Not for what I hope we’re about to do.’ She shuddered. Ayla looked only half there. Her eyes appeared transfixed by the twirling flames.
Ayla swallowed, trying to bring herself back into the room. ‘But I do think that Thorgils is coming. I feel that.’
‘You do?’
Ayla smiled reassuringly. ‘How could he not?’
Isaura was suddenly terrified. ‘But will there be time? What if Ivaar comes back? What if...’
‘Isaura, you asked him to come, so he is coming. Whether Ivaar is here or not, Thorgils is coming. We just need to prepare ourselves to do what we can to help him.’
‘Help him?’ Isaura was confused. ‘How can we help him?’
‘There are things we can do, so put on your cloak and grab that basket by the door. I must find my other knife.’
Osbert had drunk too much and yet, not enough.
His throat had been dust-clogged, still filled with the smoke of the sea-fire Jael had destroyed Haaron’s piers with. He shook his head at the memory of that night. Once he was back in Andala, he would have to find Edela’s recipe.
If he could.
Osbert lay his head against the soft fur of the chair and closed his eyes, then sat upright, worried that he was sitting in the very chair Eirik Skalleson had died in. His eyes darted around the softly lit bedchamber, but he was alone.
Still...
A king was never safe.
Both his father and Eirik had proved that.
Osbert suddenly panicked about the wine he’d drunk but then he remembered that Oleg had drunk it too, and Oleg had still been standing when he’d bid him goodnight.
He thought wistfully of Keyta, whose silky body had been a delight; her nightly company had made his time in Hest oddly pleasant. Turning his head towards the bed, he felt a sense of emptiness that there was no one to share it with.
There was no one to talk to at all. No one he could trust at least.
His parents were both gone; Amma was now with his enemies; Getta had her own kingdom to worry about.
He was completely alone.
Osbert yawned, ready for bed now. In the morning, they would burn Lothar’s bloated corpse, and he would take a ship back to Andala.
He couldn’t wait.
He had a war to wage.
Berard was sitting by the fire, half asleep, a goblet of wine in his hand, his toes warming too close to the flames.
‘I will see you in the morning,’ Meena said shyly, tapping her toes as she waited to be dismissed.
Berard scrambled to his feet, blinking himself out of his post-supper doze. He had eaten so much that he felt ready for his bed; his bed, which looked clean and more inviting than he remembered it ever looking before. Meena had already worked wonders with his dark and dingy chamber; disorganised and dusty as it had been.
It even smelled better.
‘Yes, alright then, tomorrow,’ he smiled, walking her to the door.
‘Do you have enough wine?’ she wondered, suddenly anxious.
Berard laughed at the concerned look on her face. ‘I have enough wine,’ he assured her. ‘I’m more interested in my bed than wine, I promise.’
‘You had a long day,’ she noted.
‘Yes,’ he yawned. ‘My father is desperate to get the piers rebuilt quickly, for without them we’ll struggle to accommodate the merchants, and if we’re not careful, they’ll drift away and find other ports and new markets to trade in. It makes it difficult for them to unload their cargo without the piers. He wants to fortify the castle too. After what happened...’ Berard frowned, not really sure what had happened. He couldn’t imagine that Jael would have killed Lothar Furyck without reason. She was not that sort of person, he was sure.
Yet, now they were enemies again.
‘Well, I only hope that we’ll be safe from the Islanders. I don’t want them to come back with that fire,’ Meena said, shuddering at the memory of that night as she opened the door.
Berard patted her arm. ‘I don’t think you have to worry about that. They didn’t try to attack us. They just wanted to leave.’
Meena didn’t look so certain. ‘Jaeger said that they want to kill us all.’
‘Jaeger?’ Berard’s eyes flared in annoyance. His brother had become a stranger in the days since the battle for Skorro. The humiliation of his constant failures had made him retreat even further, pushing even Berard away.
But not Meena, it seemed.
‘Jaeger talks a lot,’ Berard grumbled. ‘Best not to listen to most of what he says. He’s an angry man. Too angry these days.’ He stopped himself from going any further, surprised by his own bitterness, or perhaps it was just that the truth was finally stirring in him now that he was no longer blinded by loyalty.
‘But the book?’ Meena whispered, glancing up and down the corridor. ‘The book will give him unlimited power.’
Berard froze. ‘Will it?’ He looked worried.
Meena nodded. ‘Especially now that he has Morana’s help. She can read it.’ And tapping her head, she dropped her eyes to the floor and disappeared through the door.
Berard was suddenly wide awake. He stepped out into the corridor, watching Meena hurry away from her own chamber.
Towards Jaeger’s.
It was Fyn’s turn with Tig and Jael was glad of the break.
She sat next to Edela, enjoying the protection of the walls. Poor Tig, she thought as she squeezed Edela’s hand, listening as the wind picked up even more.
Her grandmother’s hand was warm.
Hers was not.
Edela lay wrapped in layers of thick furs, tucked into Beorn’s makeshift bed. The rolling movement of the ship appeared to have little effect on her frail body. She simply lay there, her eyes closed, utterly still, apart from the slow rise and fall of her chest as she swayed from side to side.
They kept checking on her, terrified that she would die at any moment. But there was nothing anyone could do except keep her comfortable and warm and wait to see what help they could find in Tuura.
Jael shivered, memories of that night surging back with force. She glanced at her mother who was sleeping next to Biddy and Amma on the opposite side of the house. Gisila had barely spoken to anyone since Hest. She was traumatised by what Lothar had done to her, desperately worried for Edela, and now having to face Tuura and the nightmares they had all sought to bury in a deep, deep grave.
Jael closed her eyes and tried to think of somet
hing else instead.
Eadmund.
That was even worse.
She opened her eyes, blinking away the memory of Eadmund with Evaine, desperate to hold onto the thought that he was a prisoner and not a willing participant; that he hadn’t simply chosen to be with Evaine and love her instead.
Jael squeezed Edela’s hand again. There had to be some way she could rescue her grandmother from that cave and bring her back to them.
They all needed her.
‘You are mine!’ the voice crowed, almost singing with happiness. ‘Mine, mine, mine! And you cannot help her. And she cannot help you. You are here with me now, and you cannot help her, Edela!’ she laughed, and it sounded as though a flock of birds was racing around the walls of the cave, angrily batting their wings, screeching far into the darkness. ‘You think that someone in Tuura can help her? Can help you? Oh, Edela, have you learned nothing about Tuura?’
The echo of her question disappeared slowly into the silence.
‘Tuura is where you will all die!’
Meena could barely breathe.
One of Jaeger’s hands was between her thighs, the other was winding its way up, over her stomach, towards her breasts.
She arched her back, her body exploding with pleasure. Her head was swimming with waves of desire, her limbs throbbing and heavy.
Jaeger ran his tongue up to her neck, kissing her jaw; finding her lips, kissing her so hard that she lost all feeling in her mouth. He rose up on an elbow, peering at her. ‘You don’t need to work for Berard,’ he growled deeply. ‘You don’t need to take care of him.’
Meena squirmed, not wanting to talk at all; uncomfortable that he was speaking of Berard. She stiffened, embarrassed, trying to ignore the vision of Berard as he smiled goodbye to her.
‘You can stay here,’ Jaeger went on, oblivious to her sudden discomfort. ‘With me.’ He brought his hand up to her face, staring into her eyes, looking for signs in the flickering glow of the candles that dripped their wax over the tables on either side of the bed.
His stare was so intense that Meena felt her stomach clench. She swallowed, the familiar voice, loud in her ears, urging her to tap her head so that she could feel safe again. Furrowing her brow, she desperately tried to ignore it. ‘What about Nicolene?’ she asked, clicking her toes instead.
Jaeger’s serious face broke into a smile, and he laughed loudly. ‘Nicolene? Ha! What do you know about Nicolene?’ He watched Meena’s face twist and turn itself away from him as he started rubbing his finger around her nipple. Slowly. ‘Nicolene is bored and doesn’t like her husband. I was bored and thought it would be... fun.’ His eyes were hard and cold; there was nothing fun about him.
Meena looked doubtful. ‘But what about your b-b-b-brother?’ She closed her eyes, trying not to notice the way his finger was making her feel.
‘Karsten? Karsten is irrelevant to her, and me. And soon to Hest as well. There will only be one heir when my father dies, Meena, and that will be me.’
Meena shivered as Jaeger bent over her, his lips on her nipple now. She couldn’t help the moan of pleasure that escaped her mouth as she felt his teeth, but the voice in her head was growing louder and louder, warning of the danger she was placing herself in. ‘What about Berard?’ she asked suddenly, regretting the words the moment they escaped her lips.
Jaeger froze.
Meena froze too, furious with herself.
Swallowing.
‘Berard?’ Jaeger said slowly, his lips barely moving now. ‘Berard has no ambition to be king, unlike Karsten or Haegen. If Berard keeps out of my way, he shouldn’t have any problems at all.’ He didn’t move though. His lips remained poised over Meena’s firm nipple.
Desperate to feel safe, to feel Jaeger relax again, Meena nervously reached out and touched his head. He flinched, but she kept going, stroking his blonde hair, so straight and smooth beneath her hand.
It relaxed both her and him and Jaeger leaned towards her face now, his eyes open, studying her as his lips brushed against hers.
‘You are not Berard’s, Meena,’ Jaeger moaned as he slid over her body, pressing himself against her. ‘And tomorrow you will bring your things here. No more Berard, do you understand? I need you here with me. I need your help with Morana. And the book. She is not as much use as I’d hoped. I need you here, with me, Meena. We must do this together.’
Meena shivered, her ears ringing with danger, but her body craving his; all thoughts of Berard drifting slowly away on a tide of ecstasy.
‘Hello, Osbert.’
Osbert’s eyes flew open. It was so dark in the bedchamber that for a moment he didn’t know where he was.
But he knew that voice.
Gant.
11
Gant’s back ached.
He had been crouching in the shadows for too long. Hiding behind the curtain that draped across the only window in the chamber, waiting for Osbert to finish drinking. Waiting for him to get into bed. To fall asleep.
And now?
‘What are you doing here?’ Osbert demanded, hurrying to sit up, trying to see.
Gant’s hand was suddenly over his mouth, roughly slamming his head back onto the pillow.
Osbert’s heart raced in panic. The room was starting to come into focus now, but it was still so dark. He wanted to see Gant’s eyes, to see what he was thinking, but he didn’t need to. He jerked and thrashed about with his legs, desperate to remove the hand so he could scream.
He couldn’t breathe! He couldn’t breathe!
But Gant didn’t stop. He didn’t remove his hand. ‘Best say your prayers, Osbert,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Vidar is not coming for you. You’re going to meet your father in the Nothing instead. And when the sun comes up, we’ll burn your body along with his and scatter your ashes in the midden. Your sister wanted me to tell you that. She wanted that to be the last thing you heard.’
He pushed his hand down harder, sensing Osbert weaken. His chest wasn’t rising so high now; his legs weren’t flying about so wildly.
His head slowly became still.
It didn’t feel right to end a man’s life in such a way – neither of them with a sword in their hands – but they had all talked about it.
Agreed to it.
No loose ends.
Axl was going to be the King of Brekka now.
‘It’s a chance to take back Kalfa,’ Bram suggested encouragingly, sensing Eadmund’s hesitation. ‘To install a new lord.’
They were sitting around a table in the hall, chewing over Thorgils and Bram’s plan. They’d both been working on it for much of the night and were bleary-eyed and yawning, but eager to be gone.
‘It could be a trap,’ Eadmund frowned. ‘To lure you away from Oss, just as he’s about to attack us.’ He looked at Torstan and their friend Klaufi, who had joined them. They both shrugged.
Thorgils chewed noisily on an apple.
He couldn’t keep his fingers still; couldn’t sit still at all. He’d left Odda in Runa’s hands and was worried about her too, but most of all, he couldn’t stop thinking about Isaura.
She was waiting for him. He didn’t want to let her down or leave her vulnerable to Ivaar. Perhaps this was the only opportunity he would have to bring her home?
‘I don’t think it’s a trap,’ Bram insisted. ‘Or else Isaura is the best liar I’ve ever met. And who would Ivaar come here with? Do you really think any of the lords would have sided with him? My bet is he’s skulking around Alekka, looking for someone desperate enough to help him.’
Eadmund was suddenly distracted by Evaine as she walked out from behind the curtain, issuing orders to her wet nurse. He smiled, watching Tanja cradling their tiny son.
‘Eadmund?’ Thorgils nudged him impatiently. ‘It’s likely not a trap. Not yet anyway. We need to go.’ He jiggled about on the bench.
‘And if you do? Who will be my new Lord of Kalfa?’ Eadmund wondered, turning to Thorgils. ‘You?’
Thorgils shook hi
s head firmly. ‘No. Isaura wouldn’t want to stay there. And I need to be here with you.’
Eadmund frowned, wondering what that meant. ‘Klaufi, how about you then? I’m sure Ilina wouldn’t argue about becoming the Lady of Kalfa.’
Klaufi laughed. ‘Well, you’re not wrong there. She’s always had an eye on dressing like a lady, at least. As long as we get to take Ivaar’s share of the gold back to Kalfa!’
Torstan looked slightly put out that Eadmund hadn’t asked him, but no one noticed as they continued trying to decide on a plan.
‘If you do bring Isaura and the children back here, Ivaar will come,’ Eadmund mused, suddenly keener. ‘There’s no doubt about that.’
‘True. And although it doesn’t feel right to steal away another man’s children, I suppose that Ivaar won’t be alive for long anyway. Not once you get your hands on him!’ Thorgils tried to raise a smile, but despite it being Ivaar, it still didn’t sit well with him. Jael was certain that Ivaar was innocent of Melaena’s and Eirik’s deaths. And now that she appeared to be a real dreamer, he had a lot more faith in what she believed was true. It was hard to think of killing a man who had committed no crimes.
But then he thought of Isaura, and all arguments fell away.
He would leave Eadmund to worry about Ivaar.
Breakfast was over, and barely anyone had spoken.
Berard occasionally glanced at Jaeger, who glared back at him. Nicolene eyed Jaeger, ignoring Karsten, who was being fawned over by Bayla as he sat down to eat with his family for the first time since he was injured. Haegen and Irenna could sense the tension in the hall and were quiet because of it.
And Haaron...
He felt tired and old and was busy trying to think of what to do to keep himself safe from all of them.
The slaves shuffled about, their shaved heads bent, eyes to the floor as they cleared plates and refilled cups, just as uncomfortable as everyone else.
