The Viking's Wedding

by Jessica Knight

  When I try and stand, my ankle gives. Hot fire scorches up my leg. The pain makes tears burn my eyes. I must keep going. I must keep going for Einarr. I can only hope he finds me. I do not think anyone knows where I am.

  I hate how dark it is. I keep waiting for my eyes to adjust, but they have. I can’t even see my hand when I hold it out in front of me. I could have sworn there were torches down here, always lit, but maybe I’m too far into the tunnels. I know the torches stop at a certain point because this part of the castle is so unstable.

  “Boo!”

  I scream, but the Jackal’s hand goes over my mouth, muffling it back down my throat. I squirm, kick, and punch, but it’s no use. I cannot escape his hold.

  “Ah, not so fast, my Lady.” His rotten breath floats up my nose. It smells of ale and smoke. His hands run down my body, and he growls, but it isn’t sexy like Einarr’s voice. The Jackal’s sounds evil.

  “Mmm, my Lady, do you like the sound of that? I can give you everything, you know. You can be my princess. We can rule the kingdom together. Think about it.” His hands slide down to my hips. “I can give you all the children you want.”

  “I’d rather die,” I spit, hoping it lands on his face.

  “I can arrange that if you don’t behave.”

  “Let go of me!” I shout.

  “Never. You’re coming back with me.” His hand holds tight on my arm.

  “I don’t think so.” I take the remaining energy I have, and with my good foot, I stomp my heel in his toes.

  The man grunts, weakening his grip on me. I hike my leg, bring my knee up between his legs, and nail his pathetic cock. And that is all it takes for the Jackal to fall on his knees. I’m assuming, with how he let go of me and the sound of something falling, that he hit the floor. I spin and try to run as fast as I can.

  But before I can take two steps, he grabs my ankle, and my body jerks, slamming onto the ground.

  “You bitch! I’ll kill you!” He crawls up my body and tightens his hands around my neck.

  One of my hands claw at the fingers around my throat while the other looks for something around me to grab. The air around me is getting thinner with every second that passes. My face is hot. My lungs burn. My head feels like it is about to explode.

  My eyelids start to flutter closed.

  Damn the dark! I can’t see a thing, and now I’m about to die. I don’t even know what my attacker looks like.

  “I can’t wait to put your head on a spear and show it to Einarr,” he snarls.

  I cough, and finally, my fingers land on something solid. It must be a piece of stone off the wall. I curl my hand around it and smash it over his head. I have a pretty good idea where it is since I can feel his breath against my lips.

  He collapses on me. Limp.

  I don’t know if I trust him, so I smash his head again for good measure. I push him off me with a grunt and fall on my hands and knees, trying to breathe. I start crawling with no destination in mind. I have no idea where I am at this point. I think I am getting further and further away from the castle because somehow, everything is darker.

  Colder.

  I shiver.

  I’m still trying to catch my breath. My throat is on fire. I need to rest. I need a break. I collapse. My cheek in the dirt, my ankle throbbing, and my mind dizzy. What if they have forgotten about me? Einarr would never. Would he? He is my beloved one. He must be searching for me, but the lack of air to my head makes it hard to believe he is, in fact, looking.

  He probably does not care.

  Another shiver wracks my body. The air grows even colder. In the distance, I hear drops of water. The scurrying of feet scratching against the ground reminds me of the rodents that live down here. I start crying hysterically. I do not want to become rat food. This is not how I wanted to spend my birthday.

  I just wanted to be wrapped up in Einarr’s arms. I wanted him to make love to me all day and night. I only wanted to be happy, and now… and now I am afraid I will never see him again. Tears puddle beneath my cheeks and mix with the dirt beneath me, creating mud. I try and lift myself off the ground, and when I get to my hands and knees again, I crawl, but my dress gets snagged on something.

  The rock slices through my dress and the skin of my leg. More pain. More screams. More tears. I’m so tired.

  Maybe if I just rest my eyes, everything will be fine. It’s a small nap. What could really go wrong?

  “Thyra!” a voice shouts from somewhere in my mind.

  It must be my mind because it sounds a lot like Einarr. Maybe this is death. Maybe, just maybe, this is my afterlife, and I get to spend it with the other half of my soul.

  “Thyra, darling. It’s me, Einarr! If you are here, say something! Say anything!”

  “I smell blood.”

  I know that voice too. The accent is thick; it is different.

  “What?” Einarr hisses.

  “I’m just telling you what I smell.”

  I try and move, but the pain in my leg stops me. “Einarr,” I rasp. My throat burns like fire.

  “Thyra, please. Say something. Alexie, I am getting worried that she is not here at all. What if they took her? I will never be able to live with myself.”

  “Einarr,” I try again, but my voice sounds like wood splintering from an axe.

  Still, they cannot hear me.

  “The blood is getting stronger. I think we may be getting closer,” Alexie says.

  “Alexie, if she is dead, if this is her blood, I will need you to kill me down here.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no? I cannot live without her.”

  “You have your son, Abram. He needs you. If it is her, I am deeply sorry. She was a beautiful woman, very kind.”

  Since my voice isn’t working, I grab another rock and pound it against the floor.

  “Wait,” Einarr says. “Do you hear that?”

  “Da, da! I hear it.”

  I keep pounding the rock onto the ground until some type of light illuminates the corridor. It gets brighter every second. I have to shut my eyes from the shock of it not being so dark.

  “Thyra!”

  Einarr slides through the muck on the ground until he is at my side. His hands carefully flip me over onto my back, and I hiss because of the pain in my leg. “Where do you hurt?”

  “Everywhere,” I rasp. “My throat and leg.”

  Alexie bends down, putting the flame closer to my face, and they both gasp.

  “Oh, my love, what did he do to you?” He hovers his hand over my throat and skims the rest of my body with his hands. Alexie follows Einarr’s hands until they get to my leg. There is a huge cut. Einarr rips a piece of my dress off, tying it around the wound.

  “Everything will be fine. You’re safe.” He lifts me up into his arms, placing his forehead against mine. “I was so worried about you.” His lips find mine.

  It isn’t a dream. He is really here.

  My hand pulls his head closer, smashing out mouths together in a desperate kiss. When we break apart, the glow from the torch casts an orange hue against the side of his face with the scar. I place my hand against it, and this time, he does not flinch, but instead, leans into the touch.

  “I love you,” I whisper as loud as I can.

  “Let us get you home, Da?” Alexie says.

  Einarr lifts me up into his arms, and I lean my head against his massive chest. His heartbeat is strong and steady. I sigh from the sound. I really am home.

  “Ah, I see that is where the strong scent of blood came from.” Alexie points with the torch to the dead Jackal.

  “He attacked me. I think I killed him. I fought hard, Einarr. I fought to get back to you,” I mumble, my eyes drooping. I’m exhausted.

  “You did good, my love. You did so good. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Da, his head is half smashed in. I wish my warriors back home were like this. You sure you want Einarr and not me?” he jokes, taking the hand of the dead Ja
ckal and starts dragging him down the tunnel.

  Einarr lets out rumble that shakes his bone beneath my ear. I find it soothing. It helps relax my mind.

  “I only want my Einarr,” I whisper.

  Alexie chuckles. “Just as well.”

  “He said he was going to put my head on a spear and stick it in front of you.” I am halfway out of my mind with delirium as I speak.

  Alexie laughs. “Let us send his head home, Da? Please? I haven’t had fun with heads in a while.”

  “You are an odd man,” Einarr mutters as we trudge along the floor until we get to the light.

  Is the sun still out? I have no idea. All I know is that I am thankful Einarr knew where I was. It just goes to show how worthy he truly is. Of everything.

  And I hope to always give everything to him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Einarr

  Searching for Thyra in those tunnels frightened me just as much as holding Abram as he bled from his throat. It was a different situation, but the feeling was the same. I’m not a man that feels a lot of things, especially fear. I’m known for my ruthlessness, my eagerness to kill first and ask questions later, but ever since Abram, Thyra, and Abigale have all come into my life, something inside has changed.

  I’m a different man. I’m a better man now. I know now I am much more capable than being a bearer of death.

  Now that I have her in my arms, walking through those dark tunnels to find her is all a blur. I almost don’t remember it, but at the same time, I remember how I felt.

  Shattered.

  Scared.

  Worried.

  Frantic.

  And furious.

  Furious enough to kill the people that made me have to look for her, to worry out of my fucking mind for the one woman that was sent to this life just for me.

  “I love you, Thyra. I love you so fucking much. I nearly died a thousand deaths when I couldn’t find you in those filthy tunnels.”

  “I know; I love you too. I hate to admit it, but I was worried you had forgotten about me.”

  I bring one of my hands to her face and have her look up at me. Her green eyes are tired. Dark circles ring around the beautiful emeralds. She has dirt smudged on her cheeks and a streak of red that must be blood.

  “My love, I do not know what I have done to make you think that I could ever forget about you. I would have combed this earth for you until time stole my last breath.”

  Her eyes swim with tears, and they pour down her face. Her bottom lip trembles. “I know that too,” Thyra lays her cheek against my chest again. “You haven’t done anything for me to think such horrible things. I had a thought, fleeting, but it left an impact, is all.”

  I hold her tight to my best, cradling her like the precious rarity that she is. It feels so good to have her back in my arms where she is safe. It is where she always needs to be. Always. I can carry her forever. She never needs to walk anywhere again. Not without me. I will always protect her.

  The sound of the body dragging behind Alexie is starting to get on my nerves. If the bastard was alive, I’d kill him all over again. But my love, my life, she fought with everything she had to survive, and she did. I’m so proud of her.

  “This bastard is heavy,” Alexie wheezes. “I need a drink.”

  “You deserve all the drinks,” I tell him, taking the steps up to the ballroom.

  It feels like days, but it has only been a few hours since the Jackals attacked. Alexie opens the door to the ballroom from the West corridor and walks in first, dragging a very dead Jackal behind him. “Da, another dead Jackal.”

  “Put him outside with the others. We’ll set them on fire,” Grim’s voice orders.

  “This one has a special plan. We can burn his body, but his head shall be sent back. I will take it personally if I have to, Da?”

  “You have a look in your eye that tells me you’re doing it whether or not I say yes.” The familiarity of Grim’s chuckle soothes me. There is no more chaos, no more battles; the smell of smoke is clearing. We have made it home safely.

  “Da, da!” Alexie tosses the leg down and chugs an old goblet of mead. “You Vikings need vodka. This shit is foul.”

  “No, you aren’t going. We will send it by messenger. Where is Einarr?”

  “Here, brother.” I trudge up the steps slowly.

  Now that I am home, all the pain I feel hits me like a ton of rocks, but I keep going because I refuse to drop Thyra.

  “Thyra!” her father shouts from the other end of the room.

  He looks wretched. He has blood on his face, his hair stands in all directions, and he has a wild look in his eyes. I’ve seen that look before. It’s when someone realizes things may never be the same if the person they love most is dead. They fall to the brink of insanity. And sometimes, they are pushed over the edge, lost to madness.

  “Father?” Thyra rasps.

  My hands tighten around her, remembering why her throat hurts. I sit down in a chair, the pain finally too much for me to go on. Lord Troy slides to his knees and cries. He does not bother hiding it. He checks her over for injuries. The bruise around her throat is darker, and it has only been an hour.

  Troy’s eyes land on her leg, seeing the blood-soaked bandage and the swollen ankle. He reaches for her hand, but stops, almost afraid that if he touches her, he may hurt her more. “Thyra. Oh, goddess. I was so worried about you. Are you hurt? What’s wrong with your leg? Get Leiva. Someone get Leiva!” he nearly screams, halfway to that madness he is teetering on.

  “Leiva is busy attending to life-threatening injuries,” Grim informs us, giving me a knowing look. He means Abram.

  My breath hitches, and I turn my face away from the crowd. If anything happens to the boy, I’ll never forgive myself.

  “What’s wrong?” Thyra’s hand reaches for my face. “What is it, Einarr?”

  I shake my head, unable to form the words that I need to.

  “It’s Abram. The boy,” Troy speaks. “His throat was slit. Alexie sealed the wound, but it may be too late. And for that, Einarr, I am so sorry.”

  With shock, I turn my gaze to him, staring at him with disbelief.

  “You have permission to marry my daughter. You are a fine warrior, and you protected her. You rescued her when I thought all was lost. You have been nothing but good to her, and I am sorry. I am so sorry. To the both of you. To everyone.” Troy hangs his head with shame.

  Thyra grabs her father’s hand. “I love you, Father. That has never changed.”

  “I–I can marry her?” I repeat.

  “Yes, when she is well, of course. My daughter deserves more than to hobble down the aisle.” Troy gives me side-eyes, waiting for me to agree with him.

  I bark out a laugh and nod my head. “Aye, my Lady will get whatever she wants.” The words set my heart aflame. My Lady. I have my future wife in my arms from her father’s blessings. Now, I just need Abram to stand next to me on that special day.

  “Can we go see Abram, Einarr?”

  When I tilt my head down, Thyra’s eyes fill with tears again.

  “I hate it when you cry, my love.” I wipe the tear that falls off her lower lash line with my thumb. “You must go to the medical wing, anyway. You need that throat looked at, along with that leg and ankle.”

  “I don’t want something to happen to Abram, Einarr. He is so young. Oh, I won’t be able to stand it if he doesn’t make it.” She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head with disbelief. “He has yet to find love, Einarr. He deserves love.”

  “Aye. And I shall do everything in my power to give it to him. For us to give it to him.” As I stride down the steps that lead to the dance floor, from one of the many thrones, I notice all the princes are gone. “What happened to the guests?”

  “I kicked them out. Cowards,” Troy sneers. “A man that can’t fight is no man for my daughter. None of them had bravery, besides Alexie.”

  “Thank you,” Alexie says, “Oh, Lord Grimkael?”


  “Aye?” Grim slides his tired eyes to Alexie, raising his brows at the huge Kievan man.

  “I request your permission to stay here for a few weeks, perhaps months. I love it here. And I hope to find a woman such as your Lady Thyra.”

  I growl at the statement again. “Stop referencing my woman as the woman you want, or I shall not be friends with you.”

  “It’s a simple point of reference, Einarr.”

  “Aye, Alexie,” nods Grim, with an amused look on his face. “You may stay, but you must stay in this castle.”

  Alexie gives a big smile and pulls a bottle out of his furs. “A gift for you, for your hospitality. It is vodka. The best in the world. From Kievan Rus’.” Alexie hands it over, a bit too excited.

  “What is vodka?” Grim asks.

  Alexie throws his arms over the Lord’s neck. “Oh, my Lord. You have much to learn.”

  “It’s my birthday. I should get the vodka,” Thyra mumbles against my chest.

  I give her a small smile as we make our way toward the back of the castle. I do not want her to see the front. It looks like a massacre out there. “I’ll get you anything you desire, my love.”

  She sighs, but it sounds content instead of in pain. “I just desire you, Einarr.”

  “You have me, that is not a problem. It will never be an issue. You’ve had me from the moment I first laid my eyes on you.”

  Her eyes droop shut, and she gives a small smile before drifting off into a deep sleep. She fell asleep fast, but it has been such a trying day for her. I make my way through the back hallways of the castle, and finally, I reach the doors to the medical wing. The same doors that hold the memories of our first kiss.

  Her first orgasm.

  But now these doors hold something more for me. They hold trauma and fear. My life, my reason for being, is injured in my arms, and a boy who opened my heart more than I thought possible struggles to survive. These doors hold more bad memories than good.

  Taking a deep breath, I open the door, expecting the room to be out of control.

  But it is quiet. Too quiet. My boots against the floor disrupt the silence.