by A. E. Rayne
‘It was them, The Following,’ he croaked, trying to clear his throat. ‘Isobel knew something. She must have found something out they didn’t want anyone else to know.’ He shook his head.
‘But you stayed?’ Edela asked.
‘I was hoping they would kill me too,’ Entorp whispered, not meeting her eyes. ‘I didn’t want to go on after that. I was all alone.’
No one spoke.
The rain dripped continuously down the smoke hole, the flames suffering under its onslaught.
Edela had so many questions but it was not the time to ask them, she knew.
Not now.
Ayla froze as the door creaked open.
She had been half asleep, thinking about Bruno, lost in memories of when they had first met.
‘Hello, Ayla,’ Ivaar growled as he stalked towards the bed.
She swallowed, sitting up, backing away into the headboard, fearful. ‘Ivaar,’ she mumbled sleepily. ‘I was not expecting you to return,’ she lied. ‘Not for some time.’
‘No?’ He grabbed her thick, dark curls, yanking her head towards him. ‘No?’ he asked again through gritted teeth, his eyes glinting sharply in the hint of fire that was still burning. ‘And why is that, Ayla? Perhaps you are no dreamer at all? Perhaps you are of no use to me anymore?’
He reeked of smoke, of ale, of the sea. Ayla shook under his glare, fearing what would come next.
‘You saw that my father is dead?’ he spat, pushing her back onto the pillow. ‘Saw that Eadmund and Jael are king and queen now?’
Ayla’s eyes widened in terror. She tried to think as he brought his furious face down towards her. ‘I did, yes,’ she hurried. ‘I saw that it would take some time to defeat them. But that you stood a good chance, with the... with the lords on your side.’
Ivaar yelled and smacked his hand into the carved wooden headboard behind her. Ayla flinched beneath him. ‘You think the lords will support me now? Now? After the victory that scheming bitch earned them? Now?’ He glared at her. ‘No, Ayla, you are going to have to put your beautiful head to work on a new plan because I am nowhere near that throne. Nowhere!’ he screamed. ‘And you,’ he breathed heavily, leaning over her. ‘You, are nowhere near having your husband back.’
Ayla turned her head away as he fumbled under his tunic, yanking down his trousers. She gulped, closing her eyes as he bent over her, scowling, his hand under her nightdress. She wanted to cry as he groaned and grunted, pushing himself inside her, hard, painfully, not stopping. She blinked, trying to go back to her dream of Bruno, where she had felt safe.
And free.
33
‘They seem pleased enough,’ Eadmund smiled at his wife.
It was not a real smile, Jael thought sadly. Only his lips moved. His eyes remained lifeless. ‘Well, it’s hard not to be happy with a chest full of gold.’
‘Or three,’ Thorgils grinned, watching the men load heavy, iron chests filled with gold pieces onto the ships, as they readied for their departure. ‘Though I’m still not convinced I should leave you to go to Hest on your own.’
Eadmund turned away from the shore, wondering what else there was to do before they left. ‘You’re more use on Oss, and at least this way you won’t have to sit through a tedious wedding and listen to Lothar Furyck bleat on again.’
‘Thinking about your own wedding, are you?’ Thorgils laughed. ‘I seem to remember you sleeping through most of it!’
‘I found some arrows!’ Fyn announced as he came towards them, carrying four bushels of arrows in his arms.
‘I’ll take those!’ Jael said happily. Despite what she might have said, she felt uneasy sailing into Hest. Aleksander hadn’t seemed worried, but she was a queen now, responsible for more than her own life. It was important to know that Oss was safe, especially with Ivaar disappearing, but at the same time, she couldn’t trust Lothar or Haaron. Whatever plans they were making, she knew that they would have little regard for her or Eadmund, especially once Jaeger and Berard were returned. ‘Where did you find them?’
‘In the kitchen,’ Fyn said triumphantly. ‘I was looking around for food. They were hidden in a pantry.’
‘They do smell a little cheesy,’ Thorgils said, sniffing the arrows as Fyn handed them to Jael. ‘And did you find any food, perhaps? That would come in handy.’
‘Well...’ Fyn dodged Thorgils’ eager eyes.
Jael laughed. ‘It’s alright. We’re going to a wedding feast. There’ll be enough food for us, I’m sure, but poor Thorgils, here, might starve on his journey home!’
‘It’s true,’ Thorgils insisted. ‘I do require more food than most, me being an extraordinarily large man.’
‘Ha!’ Eadmund snorted. ‘I think it’s just your head that’s large. The rest of you looks a little puny to me.’
Thorgils was happy to see Eadmund come to life for a moment. He slapped his friend on the back. ‘Envy is not an attractive quality in a king, I believe. Just look at all the trouble Lothar Furyck has gotten us into!’
‘The gold is all loaded now,’ Haegen Dragos said impatiently as he walked back to the smiling Osslanders. ‘My men are onboard, and we are ready to depart for Hest.’ He turned his attention to Jael and Eadmund. ‘My father will be expecting us to arrive in good time.’
‘Well, off you go then,’ Jael smiled. ‘Don’t let us stop you.’
Haegen bit his teeth together. ‘It’s best that you follow us, so I know my brothers are right behind me. That you’re not just going to leave.’
‘Well, if you insist,’ Jael said airily. ‘We just need to secure them onto our ships, and we’ll be on our way.’
Haegen frowned but nodded and turned to leave, motioning to Aleksander.
Aleksander looked reluctant to follow him.
‘You’re still my prisoner,’ Haegen reminded him. ‘Until my brothers are back in Hest, you’re with me.’
Aleksander sighed, not wanting to endure another journey in Haegen’s dour company. He gave Jael half a smile as he turned to follow him. ‘Safe travels.’
‘And you,’ she said intently, watching him go. For all her light-heartedness, not one part of Jael was taking this lightly. She did not feel safe. ‘Lock down the fort when you get home,’ she said quietly to Thorgils. ‘Put archers on the walls, man the towers at each end of the island. Prepare for an attack. Run drills. Keep everyone alert. Send out warnings to anyone who wants to return to the fort for protection.’
Thorgils nodded. ‘I will.’
‘And get the ships around to Tatti’s Bay,’ Eadmund added. ‘Don’t leave them out for Ivaar to burn if he should try to attack.’
‘Make arrows, too,’ Jael said. ‘We need more of those.’
‘Alright, alright!’ Thorgils laughed, putting up a hand. ‘I will defend the island, you don’t need to worry! Just come home safely.’
Jael frowned. She didn’t feel so confident.
‘You needn’t worry,’ Thorgils promised again.
‘Talk to Edela,’ Jael said suddenly. ‘She will see what’s coming. She can help you.’
Thorgils nodded patiently, wrapping an arm around Fyn’s shoulder and edging him away from his anxious king and queen. ‘Now, come and show me where that food is, young Fyn. I have a mind to take a nice little basket with me!’ He smiled broadly and disappeared back into the fort; eerily quiet now that the Islanders had cleared out.
Haegen was taking most of Skorro’s garrison back to Hest. His father would need to send shiploads of men over to repair and restore the fort before it was habitable again.
Morac had waited for his son to leave before approaching Eadmund himself. ‘My lord,’ he began quietly. ‘I think that perhaps I should go back with Thorgils. It will help him to have an experienced head around the place. There will be a lot for him to do. He will need assistance.’
Jael winced at his subservient tone but didn’t interrupt. They would have to find a way to rule together, and it would not work if the only opinions were
hers, no matter how much she disliked the pointy-faced man.
She bit her tongue.
‘That sounds sensible,’ Eadmund said carefully, avoiding his wife’s arched eyebrows. ‘But just remember that Thorgils is in charge, so help him, but only at his invitation.’
‘Of course, certainly. I wish you a profitable time in Hest, my lord, lady.’ Morac tried not to frown as he nodded to them both and slipped away.
Jael waited for a heartbeat before turning back to the fort. She swallowed all the things she was desperate to say, ignored the growl of her temper as it threatened to burst forth, and instead tapped Toothpick, sighing. ‘Time we got those prisoners of ours on board, don’t you think?’ And without looking back, she walked through the gates, ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach that was growing bigger by the day.
Gisila was waiting, watching as Rexon jumped out of the ship, into the water. She hurried across the sand, her hands shaking, her heart tied in knots of hope and fear.
Rexon blinked as he waded towards his queen, trying to look more reassuring than he felt. He did not trust Lothar and the idea that he was to send Gisila, Amma, and Eydis Skalleson back to Hest did not sit well with him at all.
‘Rexon,’ Gisila breathed, grabbing his forearms as he stopped before her. ‘Tell me, how is everyone?’ Her rich brown eyes flickered in desperation.
‘Fine,’ Rexon assured her quickly. ‘They are all fine, Gisila.’
‘All of them?’ she asked, swallowing. ‘Even Lothar?’
Rexon opened his mouth and closed it quickly as the Hestians came behind him, pulling the ship onto the beach.
‘Where are your men?’ Gisila wondered suddenly, noticing the strangers and their strange ship. ‘Where is Lothar?’
‘He has sent for you,’ Rexon began. ‘You and the girls. The ship is to take you back to Hest.’
Gisila looked confused. ‘Hest? Why?’
Rexon took her hand, slipping it through his arm. ‘Come, I could do with a drink and something to eat. A fire wouldn’t go amiss either. I will tell you everything on the way.’ He felt unsettled as he led her across the windswept sand. He kept thinking of Ranuf.
Ranuf Furyck would never send his wife to Hest.
Runa was desperate for word of Fyn. Desperate for something to change. She had crept around the house for days, trying to avoid Evaine; going out, just wandering around the fort, trying to avoid Evaine. She had barely slept, her appetite had gone, and despite the fact that her arms had stopped aching, she felt in pain and was barely able to breathe as anxiety exhausted her body and mind.
‘Runa!’ Edela smiled as she stopped in front of the hall steps where Runa stood, looking thoroughly lost. ‘Are you alright?’
Runa’s tense face creased into a weary smile and she felt her body loosen its grip on her ever so slightly. ‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘I am. It is just not easy living with that girl.’ She glanced around nervously. ‘She is always there, watching me, saying things, threatening me somehow, without ever really saying anything at all.’
Edela frowned. ‘I am sorry to hear that. I wish I knew how to make it easier for you but I don’t think that leaving would help, would it?’
Runa shook her head. She had, of course, considered it. ‘I would not want to leave the baby in her care, nor poor Tanja, who is more terrified than me.’
‘Jael and Eadmund will return soon,’ Edela promised. She shook her head, momentarily surprised by the certainty of that feeling; catching herself before she said anything more, especially about Eirik Skalleson. She didn’t want that getting back to Evaine.
‘And Fyn?’ Runa asked urgently. ‘My son?’
‘I do not know,’ Edela admitted, stepping to one side as a band of red-faced children came hurtling past, chasing each other with sticks. ‘I’m sorry, but hopefully, you will hear soon. And when your son is back, it will be easier, perhaps?’
Runa’s face fell. ‘Of course, as you say,’ she said mutely.
Edela reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘I will see what I can do,’ she smiled. ‘I will keep working on my dreams, don’t you worry. Something will turn up. That girl will not win. That is why I have come, Runa.’ Edela shook with determination, feeling a surge of strength straighten her stooping frame. ‘She will not win!’
They had tied Jaeger to the catapult, which seemed the best place for him. No one wanted to be near him. He was quiet, though, as he sat there, slumped, sulking, simmering. Jael watched him as they sped along on a fresh wind, the men talking quietly to each other as they hunched under the gunwales; some rolling dice, others combing their beards, telling jokes, comparing their wounds. But it was all subdued. They were ready to go home.
No one was looking forward to Hest.
Especially not Jaeger.
He thought of Elissa as he sat there. He had loved her, and she had died, and the pain was still sharp in his chest when he tried to picture her face. Three months had passed now and he couldn’t.
Jaeger could picture his father’s face, though, and that made him grimace. His father was going to be furious, and rightly so. He had been in charge of a defeat so catastrophic, so expensive, so embarrassing for their whole kingdom. He had humiliated him. There was nothing he could say, no way he could argue against this marriage, as much as he wanted to.
But a Furyck?
Jaeger shook his head, trying to ignore the ache in his ankles. It was a fair enough punishment and perhaps an opportunity too. In time, once he had mastered the book and his father was ash, floating on the wind, there would be time for revenge. Time to claim that which belonged to him; to destroy those who stood in the way of his destiny.
He glared at Jael Furyck as she walked down to check on him, her nose in the air. So righteous. Queen of the Slave Islands. The most nothing sort of queen there could be, he scowled bitterly.
Jael ignored Jaeger and his eyes that were attempting to bore holes into her skull. She didn’t blame him for his fury towards her, but she was worried about how he would treat Amma. Berard, for all that he had tried to defend his brother, had hardly been effusive in reassuring her that he was not the monster she feared he was.
Jael glanced towards Ice Breaker as she streamed alongside Sea Bear, smiling at Eadmund, who was staring at her. He smiled back, before lifting a water bag to his lips and turning away.
Jael sat down on her sea chest, her back against the stern, and closed her eyes. She needed to think. But in which order? Evaine? Haaron? Eadmund? Amma?
She was a queen now and could feel both her father’s pride and shame in that. She thought of Eirik and was suddenly overwhelmed with responsibility. He had entrusted her with his islands; trusted her to save Eadmund. And they both thought she had.
Until Aleksander had arrived and everything had fallen apart.
Eadmund stood in the stern, weary, and worn. He dropped the water bag down to his feet, and rummaged inside his pouch, pulling out the leather strap with Sigmund’s blonde lock. He smiled, stroking it gently, trying to remember his face, but it would not come. He just had to get through the ridiculous ceremony of another wedding, and then he would be home again, with his son.
He tucked the lock back into his pouch and pulled out the stone Morac had given him, frowning, running his fingers over the strange symbol inscribed upon it.
Eadmund looked back towards Jael but she had slipped down into the stern, and all he could see was her dark hair, blowing in the wind. He imagined that she would be cold, that he would put his arm around her, trying to warm her through. And she would likely push him away and frown, but ultimately find a way to give in and let him touch her. And he would have. Once. Without hesitation. Because she was his. Or so he had thought.
But now?
Eadmund looked down at the stone, lost in the symbol, mesmerised; its twisting shape almost calling to him. He frowned, thinking of Evaine.
Evaine loved him and only him.
It had not taken long to pack their chests, which were now
being loaded into the Hestian ship as it jerked about in the frothing waves. Despite an overwhelming reluctance to leave Brekka and sail away to Hest with a shipload of large, sullen warriors, all three women and their servants were eager to depart.
‘I hope you will have word about Demaeya soon,’ Gisila smiled. ‘And your child.’
Rexon’s eyes crinkled at the sound of his wife’s name. ‘So do I. And I hope...’ he sighed, doubting any words could ease Gisila’s discomfort at being reunited with Lothar. ‘I hope that we will see you again. But perhaps for better reasons next time?’
Gisila smiled politely, nodding her head, her heart heavy with dread at the thought of a reunion with Lothar. She was choosing to ignore that part of what was coming, choosing instead to focus on seeing Axl again and Jael, Aleksander and Gant. The relief that they were all safe was overwhelming. She did not want Lothar or his vile snake of a son to intrude on that joy.
Not yet.
‘Let us go,’ Gisila said to Amma and Eydis. ‘Before those men start to get cross.’
‘They will not hurt you,’ Rexon assured her, sensing her anxiety. ‘You are to be Haaron’s guests for the feast, to celebrate his alliance with Lothar. They will keep you safe and keep their hands to themselves.’
Amma did not look reassured as she wrapped her arm around Eydis’ shoulders, but she was relieved, at least, to hear that Axl was safe. Relieved, but desperate to see for herself. Eydis’ dream still haunted her. The idea of her suffering so badly troubled her, and she knew that she would not have a moment’s peace until they were back in Andala together.
Rexon walked them down into the water, helping Amma up into the ship, then Eydis.
Gisila turned to him as he gripped her waist, preparing to lift her. ‘It’s odd, don’t you think,’ she murmured, so quietly that only he could hear, ‘that Lothar and Haaron would so readily make an alliance? Strange how quickly sworn enemies can become friends.’
‘It is, I agree. And I fear what it means for Brekka, but what can we do?’ He ducked his head, realising that he shouldn’t say any more. ‘Stay safe, Gisila, and do not give up. Ranuf would not want you to.’
