Enslaved by a Viking

by Delilah Devlin

  Eirik paused as a soft, icy hand lay against his arm.

  Dagr’s gaze dropped to the woman sidling up beside him, his expression bemused.

  Bending toward the slender Falcon, Eirik noted fear in her expression and flakes of snow melting on her dark hair. “What is it, Zarah? What is wrong?”

  “My sister. She’s gone. She rushed out of the hall, but by the time I retrieved my blanket from Tora, I couldn’t find her.”

  Eirik glanced around the hall. “She’s outside?”

  “Yes, milord. Outside, and it’s so cold she’ll not last long.”

  “Surely the bounty hunter is back inside,” Dagr growled. “She managed to trick twenty Vikings into giving up their freedom; she won’t be so stupid she freezes to death.”

  Zarah shook her head. “She was upset. She isn’t thinking.” Her gaze fell.

  “Upset by what?”

  “She saw you with her,” Zarah said, lifting her chin toward Birget.

  Birget’s expression tightened. “I told you she loves you. How perfect. Our revenge is complete. She pays now for every crime she committed.”

  Eirik pushed her away. “Birget, I know you’re in pain. And why. Fatin is now in our care, our custody. Wolfskins protect their women.”

  Birget’s gaze cut. “Is that it? Is she yours, Eirik? Because I do not think I can share chambers with her as your concubine.”

  Eirik raked a hand through his hair, his face turning red. “Not now. Your father will be here soon. Let Tora show you to my rooms. Brother?”

  Dagr gave him a curt nod, then signaled to his second, Frakki. With men trailing behind them, they grabbed their furs from pegs outside the hall and hurried into the snow.

  Eirik had almost forgotten how to breathe in the cold, through pursed lips rather than freezing his sinuses. The cold was a bitter tease. Everything had changed.

  He’d returned to find that all of New Iceland was preparing for a siege. That Dagr had fought a battle on Hymir’s Sea against Consortium soldiers and won. But that the victory was only the beginning of the war.

  “This woman,” Dagr said, his blue gaze flashing. “You care for her?”

  Eirik firmed his jaw. This was getting complicated. He’d hoped to ease his brother into accepting Fatin in the keep, but Birget was an impediment. He had made a promise. One he didn’t want to keep, but how could he slip the noose? He hadn’t found the answer yet.

  “I know that you will need Sigmund at your side, Dagr. But I cannot give her up.”

  “She’s the one who captured you. How did you come to care for her?”

  “Always we have lived by a rigid code. We punish those who cause us harm. Protect our children, our women. I will admit that when I first awoke, caged like a beast, my heart burned for vengeance. But she’s . . .”

  “Become a part of you?”

  Eirik blinked, surprised at Dagr’s statement.

  Dagr sighed and slung an arm around Eirik’s shoulder. “We have much to talk about. But it will have to wait. Your woman will be dead if we don’t find her soon.”

  They found her huddled on her knees just outside the gate on the path leading down to the sea. Her blankets were pulled around her head. Her shivers were visible.

  Eirik heaved a sigh of relief. Shivers were a good thing. He bent and slipped his arms beneath her, trapping her inside the blanket.

  She heaved once, arching her back to escape. He freed a hand and smacked her backside. “Stop fighting, foolish Fatin.”

  “Another name I don’t like,” came the muffled, sullen comment.

  Eirik grinned and met his brother’s gaze.

  Dagr’s own face broke into a wide grin. “I cannot wait for her to meet Honora.”

  Fatin watched Tora, bemused as the Viking woman fussed around the chamber she’d been brought to for a warm bath. She’d taken Fatin’s clothing, returned with a pile of things she thought “might do for a little slip of a bird,” then scrubbed the skin from her back with a vigorous wash.

  When she’d moved to wash her breasts, Fatin had folded her arms over her chest and held out her hand for the wool cloth. “I’ll manage that on my own, Tora.”

  Tora had clucked her disapproval, but Fatin could have sworn she saw a twinkle in the other woman’s eyes.

  Tora was the only Viking who’d treated her with civility. The others had shown her cold, hard faces, and turned their backs when Eirik dropped her to her feet inside the hall.

  She’d suffered their censure, dropping her gaze in shame, accepting the shunning as her due. The hall seemed even more crowded than before, but Tora had swooped in, giving Eirik and Dagr a glare. How the woman had dared give either big Viking a setdown, Fatin didn’t know, but she was impressed.

  Since then, she’d seen only Tora. When she’d asked after her sister, she was told that Zarah had been invited to join the jarl’s table along with Adem. Zarah at least was being welcomed. That fact soothed a small measure of Fatin’s hurt and disappointment in Eirik.

  “Come on, girl. I’ll not let you drown yourself in that tub. ’Tis time to come out and get dressed.”

  “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

  “Oh, but you are.”

  Fatin raised her head.

  Tora’s gaze met hers, her eyes softening with regret. “We’ve a guest. Birget’s father, King Sigmund, arrived just as you were found. You’re to appear before him.”

  Fatin grew still. Eirik had shown restraint, after a fashion, but how would Sigmund, who’d had the most men stolen from inside his kingdom, react to her presence? Would he insist on exacting punishment, full measure, for her crimes? Would he want her death?

  After that, Fatin allowed Tora to push and prod her while she’d dried her hair and dressed her, then escorted her, walking like an automaton to the hall.

  Everyone was seated at gleaming tables. All heads turned her way when she entered.

  She faltered, hoping she didn’t look ridiculous dressed as she was in a thin, sleeveless gown of crisp linen, their version of a slave’s garb. When the gold cuff imprinted with a wolf’s head had been wrapped around her wrist, she knew it was true.

  When she was being dressed, Tora had dragged her in front of a fire and made her turn. “White, he wants you in, but ’tis too thin. They will see all your parts. What is he thinking?”

  “What does it matter?” Fatin muttered.

  Tora blinked, her gaze narrowing on Fatin. “You’re right. You’ll go as you are.”

  Now Fatin walked the length of the hall, down the aisle between the long rows of tables.

  Male gazes raked her head to toe, seeing through the gown, no doubt, but she held her head high. She’d been among the exotics, a treasure many had paid fortunes to acquire.

  When she stood directly in front of the table, she avoided Eirik’s hard face, his brother’s, then met the gaze of the elder who must be Birget’s father.

  King Sigmund pushed up from the table, towering over her. Even before he spoke, she felt very, very small.

  “You caused us no end of troubles, girl,” he said in a booming voice.

  She swallowed hard. “For that I am deeply sorry.”

  His head canted, eyes narrowing. “You say the words, and yet I detect no true regret. Have you learned nothing about Vikings?”

  Fatin fought to keep from trembling, so dark and forbidding was his gaze. But her sudden timidity angered her. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I’ve learned many things. That Vikings are a proud people. That they are fierce, incredible fighters, and that they put the welfare of those in their care above themselves.”

  “That’s self-serving.”

  She shrugged. “I was being hopeful,” she muttered.

  His mouth thinned. “Some among my men demand your death.”

  She gave a nod. Nothing she hadn’t expected. Although she hoped that the fact he was talking to her meant he’d demand another punishment.

  “You did this, stole away our me
n to serve a terrible plot. To make warriors who would have the strength and will to take our world from us.”

  She tossed back her hair. “I didn’t care about the politics. Or about what they paid me.”

  “Not quite true. You needed the gold and ore you earned for their capture. You cared only about your sister . . . and your own pride.”

  “She’s all I have.”

  “And yet, having met your sweet sister, I doubt that she would have approved of how you planned to free her. Did you once consider how she would feel if you’d succeeded? That her freedom cost so many their freedom, and could have given the Helios a powerful weapon against us?”

  Fatin didn’t dare look at Zarah. Knowing her sweet sister, Zarah would have lived with the guilt all her days. And she’d never considered that. “I didn’t think,” she said softly. “Not beyond my pride and my desperation.”

  “I have asked Lord Dagr for the right to you.”

  Fatin’s head jerked upward, not understanding.

  “Your life, your freedom, are forfeit, and mine to decide. And since my daughter led the men from this world in that final battle, I am placing your fate in her hands. She’s earned it.”

  Fatin swayed. Birget had many reasons to hate her, foremost being the loss of her lover. She didn’t dare beg for her life, and couldn’t seek help from Eirik, who was her betrothed.

  With the ground shifting beneath her, she gave a nod.

  “I am not asking your consent, girl. ’Tis done. We are a hard people. But with reason. Ours is a harsh, cruel world. Games such as those you played cannot go unpunished.” He gave a sigh and settled back into his seat.

  Fatin glanced to Birget, whose hollow eyes burned.

  Birget signaled to men who stood to the side of the long table. “Remove her from the hall. After the wedding, she’ll be transported to Odinland. I never want to see her again.”

  This time, she did glance at Eirik. His face was pale, his jaw taut. He and his brother shared a glance, then returned her stare. If there was a message for her, she couldn’t read it. Her eyes were too filled with tears. Without even a good-bye, she was led away.

  Dagr, ’tis cruel,” Eirik whispered furiously.

  “We haven’t any recourse. Would you take us to war with Sigmund when we will need his backing to face what’s coming?”

  “Did you know he would do this?”

  “I had hoped he’d leave her disposition to me. Birget’s bitter. Hurt. Her father knows something happened to her, but no one’s apprised him to the fact she gave herself to a Helio. And I’ll not tell him. Already he looks askance at my choice of wife.”

  Eirik had met Honora only briefly. Since Sigmund’s arrival, Dagr’s wife, a former Consortium officer, had been kept from the hall.

  “Give it time, Eirik. Tempers will cool.”

  Only Eirik feared for Fatin. She was willful, prideful. Qualities the Bearshirts would seek to grind into the dirt.

  The doors to the hall burst open. Ulfhednar warriors rushed inside. Dagr and Eirik shot to their feet.

  “What goes?” Dagr said, his voice ringing in the stillness.

  “The Outlander, Cyrus Tahir, transported into the bailey. With others. He says that you will want to see them, milord. Now.”

  Dagr strode down the steps, Eirik on his heels. Sigmund and Birget shared glances, then followed as well.

  “Is it another ship?” Sigmund asked. “Are they attacking?”

  Dagr shook his head. Before they made the middle of the hall, Cyrus rushed inside. Behind him, men carried a litter with a body on it. “Make way!”

  The men deposited the litter on the ground. Dagr gave the man lying in a swath of blankets a glance, then began to smile.

  Birget gave a gasp, then pushed past the men and fell on her knees beside the dark-haired, dark-skinned man. A Helio, by the look of him.

  “Baraq!” She bent and laid kisses on his forehead, his cheeks.

  Eirik sucked in a deep breath, recognizing him.

  Although his face was battered, his skin grayish, Baraq offered her a smile. “Did you miss me, Princess?”

  “Bastard!” she spat, the gruffness of her voice at odds with the tears in her eyes. “I thought you dead. Blown to bits in that explosion.”

  “Daughter, what is this?”

  Eirik spared a glance at Birget’s father. His bushy brows were pulled into a fierce glare.

  Birget glanced up at her father, her expression faltering. “’Tis love, Father. My love.”

  “Birget, no.” The Helio rose to his elbows, grimacing against pain. “Hush.”

  Birget’s gaze dropped, and she smoothed a hand over his short, dark hair. “I thought you dead,” she said, her voice breaking, “and my heart shattered. I am a Berserkir, yes. But at heart, I am a woman. I left part of myself behind when we left Helios.”

  She raised shimmering eyes to her father. “I cannot honor your promise, Father. He lives. Whatever punishment you wish to give me, if you wish to disown me, cast me out, I cannot hurt any more than I have these past days. He lives. I will wed only him.”

  Baraq snorted. “Do I not have a say?”

  Birget gave him a scathing glare. “I gave you my maidenhead. Now that my father knows that, you have no choice but to offer for me.”

  “Who is this man?” her father bellowed.

  “His name is Baraq Ata,” Birget said proudly. “And he is a Consortium officer. Same as Lord Dagr’s woman. From the same ship that held the captives during the first leg of their journey.”

  Her father’s face reddened. “He’s no Norseman. Not a noble. And you laid with him?”

  Her chin firmed and tilted high. “He’s everything I want.”

  “If I may interject,” Eirik said softly.

  Sigmund shook his head, as though clearing it, then looked up dazedly to meet Eirik’s glance. “Yes, Eirik?”

  “We Icelanders have been insulated. Forced by the Consortium to live a hard life as we’ve toiled away to provide the galaxy the one thing they crave. Now we’ve seen other worlds. We have ships. Don’t we also need people who’ve walked on those other worlds, to help us navigate this new dawn?”

  “But she is my daughter. Raised to rule a kingdom.” Sigmund waved a hand at Baraq. “He’s an Utlending, one of those who would have kept the yoke of slavery on our necks forever.”

  “And I know this man’s honorable and a fearless fighter. Something any Norse father would want for his daughter.”

  Sigmund turned to Dagr. “You endorse this?”

  Dagr’s expression remained neutral. “I had hoped for a marriage between our clans to cement a friendship, but I think that the trial we’ve endured serves that purpose. I know Baraq to be everything Eirik says.” Dagr’s lips curled. “I fought him, and he was nearly my match. I would be proud to call him friend, and I would honor him as I do you should you accept him as your son.”

  Birget laid a hand on her father’s sleeve, all anger washed from her expression. “Father, you’ve never doubted my loyalty, and I’ve never asked for a thing but to serve you and our people. But would you really rather I was a Wolfskin?”

  Dagr grunted.

  Eirik snorted, then thinned his lips to hide a smile.

  Sigmund’s bushy brows lowered. “I never wanted to give you away. You are my greatest prize.”

  “Even above my sister?”

  “Ilse is a honeybee, forever lighting from one flower to the next. You are steadfast, loyal to a fault.” He sighed. “And if you have given your heart to this man, I know that it cannot be returned. If I gutted him here and now, you’d never forgive me. Would you, now?”

  Her lips curved into a sly smile. “Are you hoping I’ll say yes?” She leaned against him, resting her head against his arm. “He’s wounded and likely freezing to death.”

  “There’s still hope?” He sighed again. “Go. Take him to our rooms. I will think on this.” Only the glint in Sigmund’s eyes as his gaze followed his daughter s
aid he’d already decided.

  “You’ll keep her now,” Dagr said.

  Sigmund’s smile split his face. “Much to your relief, I’m sure. Think you I didn’t hear what a brat she was?”

  Dagr shrugged. “She didn’t want to be left behind. I admired her tenacity.”

  “She didn’t want all the glory to go to the Wolves.”

  Dagr bowed his head. “Frakki will be sure to weave her story into our saga.”

  Sigmund nodded, his fierce features easing.

  Dagr extended an arm toward the jarl’s table. “Let’s be seated. We still have to deal with the issue of the bounty hunter.”

  Sigmund pulled up, his gaze seeking Eirik. “Tell me you aren’t also ensnared by a Helio.”

  Eirik coughed. “She’s not entirely Helio. You’ve met her sister.”

  Sigmund’s eyebrows raised. “Zarah is full-blooded sister to the other?”

  “She is.”

  Sigmund looked from Eirik to Dagr. “She carries a Falcon’s blood? Does this not tell you how inappropriate such a mating would be?”

  Sigmund’s shock rankled with Eirik. “I have not said I would mate with her.”

  “But you wish it.”

  He did. But he’d not admit it here. “Fatin has much to learn about us. She must learn trust.”

  “But what of offspring? They’d not be human.”

  This was one area where Eirik had no doubts. “They’d be more than human. Since your daughter is crying off our wedding, don’t you think I should be compensated?”

  “I heard you had no great love for the match. That you feared she’d be too manly.”

  “I hadn’t seen what a beauty your Birget is. My heart was not convinced.”

  Sigmund grunted, then turned toward the dais. “I will be a full partner in this battle.”

  Dagr and Eirik shared glances. Dagr winked. “As is your right, Sigmund. I can think of no other I would have fighting at my side.”

  Eirik ascended the steps, although he wanted nothing more than to seek out Fatin. But first things first. He and Dagr needed Sigmund’s agreement, an alliance. The wily bastard wasn’t above holding Fatin over their heads to get exactly what he wanted.