by Quinn Loftis
Thomas threw his head back and laughed. “Allete is many things, but gracious in times of surprise and stress is not one of them. She tends to revert to toddler antics.”
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. “Maybe the Allete you knew. The one I’ve grown to love is a strong, poised, kind, brave, and determined female. She had a few moments of foot-stomping, but that was only because I riled her up. There’s something incredibly desirable about causing the woman you love to flush with anger.”
“Could you please not refer to my cousin as desirable around me? It’s disconcerting.”
It was my turn to laugh at the appalled expression on his face. “Have you a woman, Thomas?”
He shook his head. “Not like Allete is for you. I’ve had a few infatuations, but none that have tempted me to settle down. I don’t know that there is a woman out there who would put up with me,” he said honestly. “I’ll probably just wind up living with Dayna and taking care of her when she becomes a spinster. There certainly isn’t a man who would put up with her ridiculousness.”
I coughed, choking back a laugh. Brant was suddenly beside Thomas, glaring at the man as if he’d just claimed a kill that wasn’t his.
Thomas regarded Brant before shifting his eyes me. “Have I said something wrong?”
“You will not be living with Dayna,” Brant snarled.
Thomas frowned. “And why is that?”
“Because she will be living with me, and I don’t need her male cousin around, keeping me from bedding my wife.”
Thomas’s eyes widened, and his face turned an amusing shade of red. “Your wife? Is there something I need to know?”
“Brant has decided that your youngest cousin is exactly the woman to make him want to settle down,” I explained.
“Aren’t you a little old for her?” Thomas asked.
“I’m not yet five and twenty,” Brant huffed.
“She is not yet seventeen,” Thomas spat. “How can you even think of her in such a way?”
Brant scoffed. “Women have been married younger. She isn’t a child, and she certainly doesn’t look or act like one. Besides, I have promised not to pursue her until she is of age.”
“Promised whom?” Thomas asked.
“My jarl.”
“Magnus?” Thomas nearly yelled. “The man who abducted Allete and Dayna?”
“No, fool,” Brant sighed, “him.” He pointed to me. “He is our true jarl, and I’ve given my word.”
“And until then?” Thomas asked.
“What do you mean, until then?” Brant asked.
Thomas narrowed his eyes at my second-in-command. “You’re a warrior, obviously a successful one, and you’re not ugly. I imagine you’ve had your pick of women since you began seeing them as more than girls to throw mud at. Would you really have me believe that you will abstain from partaking in fleshly desires until Dayna is eighteen?”
“I would have you believe exactly that,” Brant said.
“And why would I believe that?” Thomas asked, his brow raised.
“Because Dayna has threatened to unman him if he so much as looks at another woman,” I answered for my scowling friend.
“Even still,” Brant grumbled, “I wouldn’t disrespect her by taking another to my bed. I’ve told her that she is the one I want. I have been many things in my life, but I am an honorable man.”
“I can attest to that,” I said. “If I had a sister, I would trust Brant with her,” I said, realizing as I said the words that I truly meant them. I knew that Brant, like the rest of us, had bedded his share of women, but he’d never forced a woman into bed, and he always treated them with kindness.
Thomas didn’t seem to know what to say. Brant gave the Englishman one more stern glare before falling back into the line we’d naturally made.
“Dayna is really interested in him?” Thomas asked.
I nodded. “You have to admit, she’s going to need a man who’s tough. She hands out punches and kicks like other women hand out hugs and kisses.”
Thomas threw his head back and laughed. “I suppose you are right. I don’t know much about him, but Brand does at least seem like he can take a punch.” He paused and then leaned closer, causing our horses to slow a bit. “And Allete approves of this?”
“I think Allete is of the mind that Dayna is going to do what Dayna wants, regardless of what Allete or anyone else thinks,” I answered.
Thomas nodded. “That is true. Dayna has always done as she pleases. I’m sure Magnus is wishing right about now that he’d left her behind.”
“Once upon a time, there were two English princesses. The eldest lived a long and happy life. The youngest was killed at an early age by her sister, which is why the elder lived a long and happy life. The end.”
~ Diary of Allete Auvray.
“I’m dying,” Dayna moaned as she slumped forward, her body held up by her hands, which were tied to a tree behind her. “Hello!” she shouted.
I kicked her, or did my best to. We weren’t exactly sitting close to one another, and I was tied to a tree as well, so my attempt, though earnest, was in vain. “Shh!” I said. “You are not dying. Quit being dramatic.”
“She’s entertaining, and it makes the warriors nervous. Leave her be,” Hilda told me.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m pretty sure your idea of fun would be poking an angry bear and giggling at its response.”
“Perhaps, but I’d be running as I giggled. I’m impulsive, not stupid,” Hilda said.
“Some would say the two are codependent. Can’t have one without the other,” Dayna said, momentarily distracted from her ridiculous antics.
Hilda shrugged. “Maybe.”
“On a more serious note,” Dayna said, “are they going to feed us? I’m getting hungry, and I’m not above resorting to cannibalism.” She said this while staring at one of Magnus’ clanmates, each of whom were similarly bound to their own respective trees. His eyes widened, and he tried to scoot farther away from her. Dayna snapped her teeth at him as if she were a rabid wolf.
“Damn it all, would you act like a grown woman for five minutes?” I barked at her. I shouldn’t have yelled, but I was getting hungry, too. Admittedly, I wasn’t behaving terribly ladylike, myself. And I was worried about my sister. The witch had exposed to everyone that Dayna had no magical ability whatsoever, which meant her value to Calder was most certainly negligible. How long would Calder keep her around? Hopefully long enough for Torben to find us. But when would that be? So many questions and no way to get answers. I closed my eyes as I remembered the dream I’d had. Torben’s soul had mingled with my own, and for that moment in time, I’d felt safe and loved. When I’d opened my eyes to find myself bound to a tree, reality came crashing back down on me.
“How is my son?” Hilda asked.
“He’s worried and frustrated, and trying to make it back to your clan. He and his men are traveling on horseback. My cousin Thomas is with them as well,” I said.
“Torben has never liked feeling helpless. As a warrior, it is his nature to run into battle without hesitation. But when the battle rages out of his reach, it’s very difficult for him to bear the strain.”
My attention was pulled away from the Oracle by a commotion on the opposite side of the village. I strained my neck but couldn’t see what was happening. Then, the crowd parted and Calder came striding out into the open, walking with purpose. His stride was long, and he held his head high.
Now that I’d had the chance to study the man, it was clear he was under some internal torment of his own. He could have been handsome if his appearance weren’t marred by the haggard sight of a man who’d sold his soul to the devil. I suspected dealing with the witch was taking its toll, whatever that might be. The jarl’s face held deep lines, and his eyes were beset by dark circles. His skin was pale and dry as if it had been cast aside by a snake. The closer he got, the more I felt evil emanating from him.
He veered to the left and came st
raight for us. A minute later, he was standing over me, one of his warriors beside him.
“Get her,” he said to the man while motioning to Hilda. Then he reached down and untied my arms. He lifted me to my feet effortlessly. He was surprisingly gentle considering the coldness in his eyes, but I wasn’t fooled. He was not kind, and he did not possess a good character. He may not have been as completely evil as Cathal, but Calder was headed that way at the speed of a twisting wind.
“I don’t want to have to hurt your sister, but I will if you force my hand,” he said in a deceptively calm voice.
I nodded, unable to open my mouth for fear that I would spit in his face. He deserved nothing less. As he began to pull me away, I snapped my head around to Dayna, who was already beginning to protest. I shook my head hard, giving her a stern glare, and then mouthed, “Don’t.”
She huffed and leaned back against the tree, but I could see in her face she was resigned to behave—at least for now. I prayed she would be safe and that the men would leave her alone.
The men escorted Hilda and me into one of the huts, furnished with a table and two chairs. A lantern hung on each of the four walls. It wasn’t cool outside, yet a large fire burned in the hearth, causing the stale air in the hut to feel stifling.
“You will tell me what is to come,” Calder said, pushing me into one of the chairs. Hilda was shoved into the other one. The jarl’s fingers began to move in my hair, and I realized he was unraveling the braid. I wanted to cringe away from his hands. There was something very intimate about touching someone’s hair, and Calder had not earned that privilege. He spoke as he continued his assault on my locks.
“I want to know if the English king pursues you here,” he continued, “and I want to know the future of my brother’s clan. Why is he here? Where is the rest of his clan? What was the true reason he did not return home?”
His words were slow and measured, their cadence matching the ones of his fingers as they travelled through my hair. He’d gotten the braid completely undone, and my hair hung like a waterfall around my head, over my shoulders, and down my back. His fingers began caressing the top of my scalp and worked their way down, untangling curls as they went.
Hilda began laughing. I wasn’t sure if it was because of Calder’s absurd actions or the absurd questions he was asking. Regardless, I thought she’d lost her mind and I was sure the shock showed on my face as I gaped at her.
“Why do you laugh, hag?” Calder asked. His fingers tightened in my hair, and he gave a small tug. I bit my lip to keep from making any noise. I had no desire to draw any more of his attention than I already had. I felt his body tensing behind me. The anger radiated off him in waves, almost palpable in the confined space. I contemplated trying to protect my future mother-in-law by jumping between them in case he decided to attack her.
“Hilda,” I hissed, “stop laughing. I hardly think this is the time.”
“It’s the perfect time,” she replied, her chuckles dying down a little. “This fool believes we can just conjure up prophecy out of nothing. He thinks we can just walk over to the prophecy tree, pluck the future off, and hand it to him like a ripe apple. Anyone with half a brain knows prophecy doesn’t work like that.”
First Dayna and now Hilda? Why must they continually insult our captors? Do they both have a death wish?
“What she means,” I began, pulling away so I could look up at him, “is that it’s easy to misunderstand how an Oracle obtains her prophecies if you’ve not had experience with them.”
Calder slowly shifted his attention from Hilda, who was still chuckling like a damn choking hyena, to me. His face relaxed somewhat, but his eyes stayed hard as stone.
“Then how does it work?” he asked.
“The prophecy comes unbidden to the Oracle. There is no way for her to conjure it up. That’s not how the magic works. We have no control over when they come or their subject matter.” I didn’t have a ton of experience with prophesizing—I’d only recently learned I had the gift—and I had no clue how it worked. For all I knew, my answer was total oxen dung. Hilda and I hadn’t talked in-depth about what it meant to be an Oracle or how my power might manifest itself. But based on her reaction to Calder’s declaration, I felt as though I must be somewhat close to the truth.
“What use is an Oracle if she cannot tell the future?” he asked.
“She can tell the future,” I said quickly, “just not on command. We aren’t water pumps that spit out words when our lever is lifted.” Did I seriously just say that to a Viking chieftain? I nearly slapped my hand over my mouth, wishing I could grab the words back.
Hilda was laughing again. “Lever?” she snickered.
Dumb old bat, I inwardly grumbled. “You know what I’m trying to say,” I said through gritted teeth.
A look of frustration passed Calder’s face. “So, I’m supposed to just sit around and wait until one of you thinks she might have something important to say?”
“Magic isn’t an exact science,” I pointed out. “But you consider this—with two Oracles, you have twice the chance of a prophecy coming and twice the chance of it being important to your clan.” I smiled at him as though I’d just said the most brilliant thing ever, but on the inside, I was ordering myself to shut up. My mouth kept moving despite my best efforts. Apparently, I was channeling the spirit of my younger sister. “And when we aren’t prophesying, we still have the ability to heal your sick and wounded… so really, it’s a win-win to keep us alive… and… unharmed.”
“Allete,” Hilda said.
“What?” I asked distractedly.
“Hush.”
I sighed inwardly as my mouth finally clamped shut. I guess I had just needed Hilda to give me the command. I decided I was going to blame it on being tired and surrounded by incredibly smelly men. My brain cells had to be dying at an alarming rate from the combination of those two things. Oh, and the lack of food. I was starving.
“Bring me Magnus,” Calder said, turning to the warrior who was standing in the door. He turned back to us and looked at Hilda again. “Why did your jarl bring you here instead of returning to his own land? What is the truth? Has he been usurped?”
I scrutinized Hilda, curious as to what answer she would give.
The old woman hesitated, straightening her clothes and shifting in her seat as if vying for time. Then, just as Magnus walked in, she spoke.
“Magnus no longer has a clan. He is no jarl.” Hilda’s voice was clear and loud as though she wanted to make sure everyone heard her and there could be no confusion as to what she’d said.
Magnus’ face turned a bright shade of red, and his eyes bulged. It was a wonder he didn’t pass out from so much blood rushing to his head. He sputtered curse words at Hilda, who simply stared back at him blankly.
“So, it is as I thought,” Calder said, turning to face his brother. “You are clanless.”
“I am not,” he roared. “You would listen to the words of an old hag over your own brother?”
“Is she a hag, or is she the Oracle of your clan?” Calder asked, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side. “She is either respected or she is not. Which is it, brother?”
The last word was spoken as though it were an insult, not an endearment.
“I have a clan,” Magnus roared. “I told you my reasons for coming here. The girl’s father is the king of England. I could not let him follow me to my homeland.”
“And the other king, the one to whom she is betrothed”—Calder pointed at me—“what of him? Would he be going to your clan home as well? Or did he follow you here?”
At the mention of Cathal’s name, my skin began to crawl with the memory of his unwanted touch. Having my hair down and spread out around me only exacerbated the feeling. I suddenly felt naked, as if everything he’d done to me was on full display. It wasn’t rational, I knew, but the fear still showed on my face.
As Magnus answered, Calder seemed momentarily lost in thought. I took the opp
ortunity to gather my long hair and twist it up, winding it around until I could make a knot out of it. Keeping my hair up was important in that moment. It was a symbol of the control—however slight—that I still wielded. There was little in that moment that was truly under my power, but whether I wore my hair up or down was my own choice, dammit, not the decision of some Viking brute. My neck might have been bare, but everything else was once again concealed under the tight control of my will.
“As you do not see any troops marching up your beach, you can plainly see that he did not follow me,” Magnus said.
“So, he will go to your clan, searching for you and his woman, and when he doesn’t find either of you there, what do you think he will do?”
Without thinking, because that seemed to be my new hobby, I raised my hand. All eyes turned to me. “Just for clarification purposes, so there are no questions should anyone become interested, I want it known that I am in no way Cathal’s woman, as you put it. I am a person, not an it or thing, and I do not belong to anyone but myself.”
His lips turned up in a smile that could have been charming, had the cold stare not ruined the effect. “You are a princess,” he practically cooed. “Whether you like it or not, you do belong to someone, whether that is your father, the man you’ve been given to in a political trade, or a warlord. You are too valuable to belong only to yourself.”
Having sufficiently put me in my place, he turned back to Magnus. “Now, I ask you again: What do you think this Cathal will do to your clan?”
I didn’t want to think about the answer to that question, but it seemed Calder was determined to make his point.
“I can tell you what he’ll do,” Calder continued. “He will burn your village to the ground. He will slaughter your women and children and take whatever men you have as slaves. Will you still be able to call yourself jarl then?”
“I still have the men who are with me here. They are my clan. So, yes, I am a jarl still,” Magnus answered, attempting to look in control. He was sweating too badly to make it believable.
