I keep my eyes peeled, scanning left and right to make sure there are no threats. Our footsteps are a whisper on the earth’s floor. Since everyone is trained to be stealthy, the only thing I hear are my breaths.
“Oh, goddess,” Wulf gags, covering his mouth with his hand. “What is that smell?”
Abram bends over, yacking up his breakfast. A few of my other warriors go down too, and soon, the frequent sound of retching almost makes me gag.
Almost.
But I’m a Warlord, so I cannot show weakness.
“Get your shite together, men.” I stomp forward, leaving the cowards behind.
“It smells like death, Warlord.”
“Please, why are you acting as if you have never been around death. Next training session, I’ll make you boys run in horse shit,” I grumble, trudging toward the pungent smell. The closer and closer I get, my heart sinks. I know that smell from anywhere.
It’s flesh.
Who the hell missed this while patrolling? Besides Asta, I think we may have another traitor in our midst. We climb the steep hill, grabbing onto the wet earth. The dirt digs into my fingernails, and soggy leaves stick to my palms. When we get to the top, I push a branch out of the way.
“Oh, my goddess.” I can’t believe the sight in front of me.
In a row, there is a line of bodies, pale, veined, and dead. All women. They seem so young. Two with dark hair, one with blonde, and one with red hair. All of them with Jackal brands on their necks.
“Draw your weapons,” I roar, grabbing my sword off my belt.
Others unsheathe their own weapons, bows and arrows. Anything to protect us.
The bushes shake in front of us, and three Jackals step toward us.
“One more step and I’ll place an arrow between your eyes. Wulf, at the ready.”
“My pleasure,” he growls, pulling the string back.
The Jackal has a lazy smile, half his face frozen in time. I can easily fix the other side to match. “I wouldn’t be so quick to fight, Warlord.”
I shouldn’t ask why. I should order Wulf to release the arrow, but Thyra is in the back of my mind. If this threat involves my family, I need to hear it. “Why?”
“Because for every day that passes, that you do not return our Queen, we shall take one of your women.”
I curl my lip with a snarl. “You won’t be able to get close enough.”
“You’re so sure about that?” He tries to smile again, but his face only tilts to the right. He laughs, stepping back into the tree line with his men.
One thing stands out clear. Asta Dahl is the Queen of the Jackals. And that means I’ll have to kill my wife’s mother.
Chapter Thirty-One
Thyra
It’s been months since Grim has put my mother in the dungeon.
Sassa has given birth to beautiful twins. She had one of each. They have named their baby boy, Erik and their baby girl, Katorina. Grim is so proud, and the light in their eyes gives me hope.
But I cannot even be truly happy for them. My thoughts are preoccupied.
I’ll never forget the cackle of laughter that echoed through the courtyard as they dragged her away. It’s something that echoes in the minds of nightmares, that sound. Her coldness could be felt across the courtyard.
There is no doubt now that she has an alternative motive here. With the bodies Einarr found, I wonder if they are getting rid of women for a certain reason and need to replace them with new bodies. I can’t help but think my mother is here to steal women away from their families.
I could be overthinking everything. It could be as simple as her coming here and wanting to prove a point. The Jackals don’t tend to be too smart when it comes to plans, but Einarr thinks I’m underestimating them. I don’t think anything of them at this point. They have numbed me to the point of shock.
How does a daughter let go of the idol of a mother she has made up in her head?
I can’t stop the image of her dragging across the lawn like a dead animal, sentenced to death. I’m not sure when. I overheard Einarr speaking to Grim about keeping her as leverage. Leverage for what, at this point, I’m not sure. It’s hard to put my thoughts into words. While everything is numb, my mind is reeling.
I’m not surprised that she is the Queen. I didn’t even cry. I wasn’t upset. I just watched her stare at me, cold emptiness in her eyes as they took her underground where the dead lay.
The tunnels.
Grim decided to use the tunnels as the new jail. They sealed off the West corridor, the one I rushed through to get to the trapdoor and dug an entrance in the courtyard to get to the tunnel. Walls have been built to make small cells. She is officially our first prisoner.
“Are you going to go see your mother today?” Einarr asks, cutting into a thick piece of bleeding red meat.
I take a sip of my tea, the one thing to help with the morning sickness, and shake my head. “No.”
“Thyra—”
“—Don’t, Einarr. I have nothing to say to her.”
“Really? I think you have plenty to say to her.”
“I’m not wasting my breath on a Jackal.”
“Jackal or not, she is your mother. Know this.” He scoots his seat closer to mine and takes my hand. His large fingers are so much longer than mine. His palm is inches wider than my own. He surrounds me. “If my mother were still alive, Jackal or not, enemy or not, I’d like one last chance to talk to her.”
“You don’t talk about your mother a lot,” I say, rubbing my thumb over his bones.
“There’s nothing to say. I can’t remember much about her. It has been too long. I do remember one thing. She had long, curly red hair that fell to the back of her knees. I remember combing it, but for some reason, I can’t remember the details of her face. I just know she was beautiful.”
“She had to be. Just look at you.”
His cheeks turn a bright shade of red. Einarr is still working on accepting compliments. “You’re just sweet-talking me to get into my pants.”
“Obviously.” I wiggle my brows with suggestion. Maybe a little luck will be on my side later.
He wraps his other hand around mine and kisses it. “I don’t want you to regret anything. I do not know what is going to happen with your mother. Truly, I’m worried about you. You haven’t even talked about it. You have shown no emotion. Grim took your mother away in shackles. She is in the dark, alone. Sure, the woman is obviously raving mad, but she is still your mother. I want you to have closure.”
I rub my hand over the small swell of my stomach. A part of me hasn’t seen her because I do not want to remind her that I’m pregnant. Something tells me, it would make her a little too happy. And not in a good way. Something doesn’t feel right, and I’m going to listen to my instincts, just like Einarr has been saying.
His hand covers mine. “I’d be there with you. I’ll never let you face her alone. I will never let her hurt you. She can’t.”
“She has already, by coming here. And planning whatever she is planning. You said four women were dead at the boundary line?”
“Yes, so?” He stares at my stomach as his thumb rubs over it.
“I don’t know. I’m just trying to make connections. I don’t want her to see me pregnant, Einarr. That’s why I haven’t gone.”
“Why? She already knows.”
“I don’t want her anywhere near our child. She doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.”
“Say no more, my love. I understand. I just want you to be happy. I want you to make sure you are making the right choice. The choice you can live with.”
“I can live with never seeing her again. I can live with never speaking to her again. You underestimate me, Einarr. I made peace with losing my mother long ago. That woman in the dungeon? That is not my mother. She has not been my mother in a long time, and she doesn’t deserve my time or effort. She doesn’t deserve to see me grow with our child. I want her to die down there, cold, dark, and alone. I don’
t care if that makes me cruel. It’s what she deserves, but I think she is here to take from us, and she can’t do that if she is dead.”
“You really are fine, aren’t you?”
“Very. Stop worrying about me. I’m fine. Now, stop all the fussing and let’s go see those beautiful babies of Sassa’s. Little Erik and Katorina shall have a friend in a few more months, can you believe that? What if it is a boy, and he falls in love with Katorina? Or a girl and she falls in love with Erik? Oh, how wonderful would that be, Einarr?”
The fork and knife grind against the plate, and Einarr stabs the meat with the knife. “I’d rather them not. They shall be more like brother and sister. If we have a daughter, no boys, ever.”
“Einarr—”
“—Ever, Thyra. That’s the end of it.”
I cross my arms over my sore, swollen breasts and scoff. “And you are going to end up like my father? The same man who wanted you to stay the hell away from me. Aye, we see how that worked out.” I point to my pregnant belly.
“That was different. We were different,” he mumbles.
“And that’s what the boy will say that likes her, too.”
He cuts into the meat with hard, inconsistent strokes, tearing it from the bones. He’s taking his frustration out on the poor slab of beef, over a situation that may or may not happen. It’s completely rhetorical. “No boys.”
I roll my eyes from his words. If he thinks our daughter is never going to be around boys, he has another thing coming. If he forbids it, it will only make her want to rebel more. He will find out for himself.
I hope it is a girl. Having a girl will help soften some of those hard, sharp edges he has. I love them, but sometimes, he forgets just how prickly he can be. Abigale has done wonders on them, but she is so wild sometimes, she sharpens them back up.
Einarr drops the fork and knife in his hands when the horn from the wall sounds. They just finished building it, and during that time, they have killed five Jackals. The guards have been on constant watch. Nearly every night, they turn up with new bodies.
All women. Not one man.
“You think it is more bodies?” I clutch my stomach for dear life, afraid for one of the Jackals to reach me. I have this nightmare that they will take me and cut my child from me, stealing her, taking her from me, leaving me to die, and raising her as one of their own savages. It wakes me up, gasping for breath every time.
“I don’t know. We must get you to Sassa and Grim. Abigale is already there. I hate that I built this cabin now. We should stay in the castle. It’s more protected.” He grabs my hand and starts to drag me to the front door, but I plant my feet into the ground.
That does not do anything. I keep sliding on the wood floor. My strength is nothing compared to Einarr’s.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I try to yank my hand free of his, but he just tightens his grip more. “Einarr, you are acting ridiculous. Let me go.”
He stops dead in his tracks, and I don’t have time to stop. I run smack dab into his wide shoulders, and his huffing, angry breaths are audible. His shoulders rise. A tremor racks his body. Einarr turns his head to look over his shoulder, the scar menacing since I cannot see his entire face.
“Ridiculous? You think me protecting my unborn child and wife, is ridiculous? This isn’t a false alarm. This is not a joke. People are dying!”
He spins around and grabs me by my arms. “You think I want to find you like that? Dead, lying flat on your face? Dirt covering every inch of your skin as if you have been dug back up from the earth itself? Branded with that foul mark? You think I want to find my unborn child, the beautiful swell in your belly, no longer kicking?”
His eyes water, filling with sadness and anger as they spill over the high plains of his cheeks. “I’ve lived many nightmares, but Thyra, that is my worst fear. If anyone wished to hurt me, change me for life, and make me a worse man, that would be the way to do it. These scars on my face are nothing compared to the ones that would be in my soul. I think about it every single day. Every second. I train my men. I fight my men, so I know when I come home, you’re here safe. And when I wrap my arms around you, and feel our child, I know that I’m doing the right thing. I refuse to have you ripped from my arms. So whether you like it or not, you are going to Grim and Sassa. You shall stay there until I come get you. Is that understood?”
I bow my head low. I don’t want him to see my face. I feel awful now. I should have thought about how my safety would make him feel. If I’m having nightmares, of course he is. He isn’t invincible. He has a weakness, and it is me. The sooner I accept that, the sooner I can understand why he protects me the way he does.
“Please, look at me.” He places his hand under my chin to tilt my head up. When I look at him, he smiles, rubbing his thumb over my tears. “There are those beautiful eyes I love so much. You don’t understand how much I love them. They are my suns. They are my moons. They are my heart.”
He pounds his chest with his fist. “I love you fiercely, Thyra.”
“I love you too, Einarr. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I apologize.”
“Don’t apologize for wanting to stay in your home, but you’re my home. And I plan to make sure it is safe, so I have somewhere to come back to.” He intertwines his hands with mine, and this time when he opens the door, I come with him.
I hold my stomach, trying to support it as we jog across the yard, to the castle steps. The guards remove their spears to allow us through, and when we cross the doorway, the metal clanks together, signaling that they lowered their weapons again.
He rushes to the kitchen. Odd place to go. I’m not hungry. Perhaps he is. When we turn the corner, Sassa is breastfeeding the little babes, and Grim is watching with love in his eyes. He is wearing his armor though, so he must have heard the horn blaring. Einarr spins on his heel quickly and turns around to give her privacy.
“Apologies for the intrusion. I’m dropping off Thyra and going to the wall. They have found something,” Einarr says.
When I look up at him, he is blushing. He did not mean to walk in on Sassa breastfeeding. His reaction is cute. It only makes me love him more that he respects the privacy and intimacy of Sassa and Grim spending time with their children for their feeding.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Grim, no. The Lord cannot put himself in harm’s way,” Einarr argues, almost turning around but stopping himself.
Grim laughs. “As if I’ll stay out of a fight. I have been, because of Sassa’s pregnancy, and I wanted to spend time with my children, but my people need me now. A Lord is only a true leader if he leads, so that is what I’ll do.”
Einarr gives me a kiss, long and hard, leaving me wanting and wet.
“I love you.”
“Be safe. Come home to me,” I whisper.
“Until my dying breath.”
And then, they are gone, leaving nothing behind except memories. Sometimes, when Einarr isn’t around, it is the only way to remind myself that he is real and not a figment of my imagination or a ghost.
Please, come back to me, I say to myself, staring at the cross of the spears just to see if they will lift and Einarr and Grim will walk through, unharmed. Now, I just wait. And time has never taken so long before.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Einarr
Grim and I walk side by side until we reach the wall. We are proud of our men for getting it done so soon. When we walk through to get to the other side, Wulf and Trident are there, worry on their face.
“What is it?” Grim asks.
“More bodies. No sign of Jackals. It’s like the girls appeared out of thin air. Lord Grimkael,” Wulf steps forward and lowers his voice, “One is just a girl. A wee thing. Couldn’t be older than six.”
The sigh that leaves Grim is heavy and full of remorse. He pinches the bridge of his nose and rubs his face. “Poor girl. How are these women finding themselves in the clutches of the Jackals?”
“They left
a note on one of the bodies,” Trident explains, pulling a piece of parchment out that is stained with blood.
Grim rips it from his hold and unfolds it. His eyes move across the paper rapidly, and when he is done, he crunches the paper in his head. Fire is lit behind his eyes.
I’ve seen that look before. That’s the look he gives right before war.
“They are threatening Sassa again. And they said if we do not give their Queen back, in one months’ time, they will attack. And in that time, women and children will die, and their blood will stain our lands.”
“What do we do?” I ask.
“They never said we had to give her back alive,” Wulf grumbles.
And Grims face lights up like a roaring flame. “Wulf, you are a genius. I could kiss you.”
Wulf seems confused but stands straight, nonetheless. “If that is what the Lord wishes, I shall not complain.”
I snort, but it turns into a fit of laughter. Grim, kissing a man? Not in a million years. Sassa would have his head for that.
“Oh, get over yourself, Wulf. I’d never do that when I have Sassa’s lips at home waiting for me.”
Wulf blushes and clears his throat, “Aye. I know that. I was just obeying what I thought were orders.”
“You are loyal,” Grim says, but then the heavy sigh comes next. “We shall plan to give their Queen back, dead. A clear threat that whatever they do, we will kill without hesitation. The only reason she isn’t dead yet is because she is Thyra’s mother.”
“How do we know Lady Thyra and Lord Troy aren’t part of this? Where is Troy? He is still missing.”
My arm shoots out fast, and my fingers clutch Trident’s neck. I lift him off the ground and tighten my grip. His face turns red, and he claws at my hand.
I lower my voice to a growl. My rage seethes through me.
“If I ever hear you speak ill of my wife again, I shall kill you. She has not seen her mother in two decades. How dare you speak of her that way. I should strike your tongue with a whip and leave you bleeding for days, tasting your own blood until you choke on it.”
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