by Mariah Stone
Solveig watched her.
“We also need to boil water here in the room. Steam and humidity will help to ease the cough.”
“Princess,” Solveig said, “if you are right, you might be just the blessing of the gods that we needed. The year Hakon was born, the coughing sickness took nine children. Hakon got sick, too, but survived along with others.”
Hakon swallowed. Solveig’s words made him think of his mother. How she must have been worried, how she must have nursed him, whooping and red-faced just like these children.
“He survived whooping cough as a baby?” Arinborg asked, sounding surprised.
“His mother did not let him out of her arms for a moment. She healed him. I think she gave up a part of her soul for him.”
Hakon’s jaw tightened so much at that, he felt as if his teeth would crack. The pain of guilt squeezed him like a fist, his mark burned as if the curse was working. He was not worth giving up anything, let alone the part of a soul. And definitely not a life. And the man who had been responsible for that was still alive.
“That is enough,” he said. “You may treat them, Arinborg, after we are wed. If you want to continue, let us get the wedding done first.”
The princess studied him for a moment with those big beautiful eyes, her full lips thinning. “All right,” she said. “Let’s get it over with, Hakon. As you wish.”
Solveig glanced at them both, a sly little smile spreading her lips, and Hakon scoffed. Even if Arinborg was a blessing, there was nothing to smile about. One way or the other, the curse would lead to something terrible happening to Arinborg. And he would not be able to protect her. Just as he could not protect his mother.
“Let us go get married,” he said. “We need witnesses.”
MIA FOLLOWED Hakon out of the house, his large hand clasped around her smaller one, ensuring she wouldn’t make a run for it. Her chest heaved with anxiety.
Outside, the sun had barely risen, and the village was waking up. People carried sacks, hay and wood, cleaned, took animals outside.
Hakon had no idea what he had given Mia along with the permission to help those people. He’d given her back her sense of purpose. The part of her that she had switched off, ignored for the past two and a half years—the part that Dan had bullied her to hide away—came back to the surface and began humming a happy song.
And yet Hakon wanted to control her, another dominant man in her life. She was clearly following the cliché about girls looking for men who reminded them of their father.
Mia remembered her father barking orders at home, as if Mom and Mia were his soldiers. Mom’s exhausted face came to mind, the scarf on her head that hid her bald head, the smell of dish soap and burned tuna casserole as she scraped the black remains into the sink. It had burned because Mom had fallen asleep, exhausted after chemo. And yet Dad expected food to be on the table the moment he came home. Mom had died when Mia was fourteen, then Dad’s barking had been focused solely on Mia.
She had spent her teenage years taking care of her father. And when she graduated and left San Diego to study medicine in Boston, he never forgave her. Dad had wanted her to stay and take care of him. Moving out was her act of rebellion, her first step towards independence.
And the only one.
Because soon, she’d met Dan.
And now she was under Hakon’s control.
She could only imagine what he would do if he realized she was pretending to be someone else. The real Princess Arinborg could arrive at any moment.
Mia needed to find a way to escape. But until then, she had to keep her cover, keep her baby safe, and survive. That meant going through with this farce of a marriage.
Hakon stopped in front of the great house and turned to face her, grasping her hands. Their eyes locked, and her lips went dry. His pale wolfish eyes held her in place, bright golden-green in the first light of the day.
“People!” Hakon called. “Gather around. Your jarl is being wed.”
As people stopped whatever they were doing and circled them, Solveig returned from somewhere with a bunch of white flowers she was turning into a wreath. She approached Mia.
“Here, dear,” she said, holding the wreath before herself. “The white crown for the bride. You should have a true wedding, with a white dress, and the blot, and the feast.” Solveig threw a reproachful glance at Hakon. “But you can at least wear this wreath for now.”
Mia took a deep breath and lowered her head. She straightened her back when the wreath was on her head. Solveig’s gesture made her smile.
“Thank you,” Mia said.
Mia’s hands were still in Hakon’s, but she could not look at him. She would marry him, but only because she needed to survive, protect her baby, and find the way out. This plan, to keep pretending she was Arinborg, did not have a happy ending. And the faster she left, the better. Besides, this marriage, under someone else’s name, wouldn’t be legal anyway.
“Begin, Solveig,” Hakon ordered.
Solveig sighed. “Before the gods and before men, let this union be blessed. Freyja and Frigg, bless the bride with good health, with strength to run the household, and with many children to give to Hakon.”
Mia’s cheeks warmed. If they only knew that wish was closer to coming true than they imagined… What would happen if Hakon found out? Her shoulders tightened. Would he hold the court he was talking about to sentence her and then kill her?
“And may Odin and Thor bless the groom with strength, and health, and many victories to keep peace for the family.”
Solveig put a rope over their hands and tied it loosely. Mia’s pulse leaped as Hakon’s grip tightened.
“Do you, Hakon, take Arinborg as your wife?”
“I do.” His voice was curt and low and almost intimate, rich with promise.
“And do you, Arinborg, take Hakon as your husband?”
Mia could not resist it. Her eyes shot to his, and there was heat in them and need and yet restraint. The sudden desire to touch him tingled in her fingertips.
“I do,” she said.
Hakon’s eyes brightened, and guilt clenched Mia’s shoulders till they hurt. She was tricking him. She was pretending to be someone else, but the words came out easily and felt true.
What? Why? Because I could fall for him, that’s why.
Her skin chilled. No! Falling for him would mean another heartbreak. Falling for him would mean making bad decisions again. Falling for him would mean her mind clouded and emotions taking over.
For the sake of her baby, she could not let it happen.
“Hakon and Arinborg, you are now husband and wife! Kiss!”
The people around them erupted in cheers. Hakon hesitated a moment, as if asking if he could. Mia’s lips parted. Was she his wife now?
Despite herself, a small part of her wished Hakon really was her husband, and that he would kiss her. Her pulse jumped.
“Ah, Helheim,” Hakon growled, stepped towards her and swept her into his arms. His earthy scent enveloped her, electricity shot through her veins, and his lips covered hers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A s soon as his lips pressed against hers, he knew he was lost. Odin, he had been lost even before.
Even before her yes.
Even before he had touched her for the first time.
She had claimed him the very first moment he saw her by the rune rock.
Her lips were as soft as flower petals, and she smelled like spring, like light, and something airy and flowery.
Delicious.
And like the sea in storm, the need to kiss her, to touch her, to hold her took him and would not let go. Her lips parted, his tongue touched hers, and liquid fire rushed through his veins.
He pressed, sucking her tongue slightly, and she made a low sound in the back of her throat. Forgetting everything, he wrapped his arm around her waist, while his other hand cupped the nape of her neck.
She broke away with a gasp, blinking at him, her green eyes as da
rk as a pine forest.
She pushed herself off him and took a step back, one hand covering her lips.
Something was wrong. Hakon panted, confused, hot, and abandoned.
Their first kiss, as husband and wife, and she had rejected him. Why?
He was disgusting, that was why. She couldn’t bear to look at him much less kiss him.
“Is this what you call not touching me?” She put a hand on the scruff of her neck. “You promised.”
All eyes were on them. He glanced at the crowd, and their faces were stern, wide-eyed. Arinborg was about to air their dirty laundry in front of everyone. Yes, he had broken his word not to touch her before she had asked him. So the Beast had shown them how he was going to treat his wife.
Like a beast.
“Not here, woman, to all the gods,” he said through gritted teeth. He took her by the arm and led her to his bedchamber. “This is between a husband and his wife.”
He fumed with anger, ignoring her protests.
It was one thing that she detested the idea of being intimate with him. It was quite another that she had shown it publicly.
But why did he care? They all saw the beast in him.
As soon as he shut the door to the bedchamber, he turned to her.
“Are you that arrogant, Princess?”
She gasped. “Arrogant? You said—”
“I know what I said. And I stick to my word. But a husband kisses his wife at their wedding. And I did not do anything you did not seem to enjoy.”
Her face reddened like a bloody sunset. “That’s not true. I didn’t agree—”
He covered the space between them, pinning her to the wall, between his arms. She watched him, shocked. So delicate, so beautiful. How he longed to kiss those soft lips again. “You agreed, Arinborg. You agreed to be my wife. And a wife does not humiliate her husband in front of his own people. You should not have pushed me off like that in front of everyone, as if I had forced myself upon you against your will.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she was still holding his gaze like a warrior. He looked her up and down, carefully. Why was she crying? Did he frighten her? Or did she have another reason? Had something happened to her? The thought made him want to kill someone.
“People might call me a beast,” he said. “But I already told you—”
“Men. You all tell, don’t you. Talk is cheap, Hakon.”
She might as well have kicked him right in the gut. And just as he had found what he wanted to say, someone knocked on the door and he stepped away from her.
Solveig stood in the door opening, her face worried. “Jarl. Mistress. Two more babes are coughing, plus one more child and two women have started.”
Arinborg paled. “It’s an epidemic.”
Hakon frowned. Another magical word he did not understand.
The princess headed towards the door. “You said I could treat the sick after we were married.”
He rushed after her.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I am the jarl and these people are my responsibility. I am coming to see what can be done to help them.”
THE THREE OF them rushed towards the hospital, as Mia had begun to call it in her head. They went as fast as Solveig’s bad leg allowed. Mia made a mental note to look at it later when she had a chance.
Mia was married now. Well, not technically, of course. The marriage was not real.
But the kiss…
The kiss was real. His lips, soft and hard, giving and probing…Hakon electrified her whole body. He’d made her fly. Sent her pulse into the stratosphere. Until he’d touched her there, at the back of her neck.
The same place Dan used to grab when he wanted to discipline her.
Memories washed over her like a cold shower.
No more kissing Hakon. No matter how attractive he was.
She needed to think about her patients. Hakon wanted to help them. To help her. Didn’t he have some Viking stuff to do?
But he was worried, she could see that, and it warmed her heart.
Wheezing, desperate, sucking coughs filled the hospital that was now more crowded. Mia’s blood chilled as she saw a mother cradling a baby whose thin little voice broke with the whoops of suffocation.
Mia rushed to them. The baby must be just six months old. She was coughing nonstop, in that cute baby-cough, except when she wanted to breathe in, she couldn’t. All she could do was to try to suck in air with that terrible whoop sound that allowed very little air in. The baby began opening and closing her mouth, unable to take a breath. Her lips turned slightly blue.
“Shhh.” Mia stroked her belly gently, then looked at her mother. “You need to put her on her belly and slap her on the back so that she can cough the mucus out.”
The frightened mother did as she was asked, but the baby was still struggling to breathe. Mia slapped her quickly on the back. “It’s okay, you can take that breath now.”
Everyone stilled. Even the other coughing patients.
Mia counted seconds in her head. The baby tried to suck in air.
One. Nothing.
Two. Still gaping.
Three.
The baby breathed in and began coughing out the mucous, then cried. Her mother sighed out in relief, tears filling her eyes.
She hoped the mother would stay healthy for as long as possible. Whooping cough epidemics had been common before widespread immunization. And though it was more dangerous in children, more adults would also soon be sick with the one-hundred-day cough, as it was known.
Mia glanced at Solveig and Hakon. “The whole village will be sick soon. Only those who have had it will stay strong. Babies will be the ones in the biggest danger. I need help. We need firewood, water, herbs, and food.”
Hakon gave a stern nod, his pale eyes as concerned as ever.
He opened the front door and bellowed, “Hey! Frogeir! Torfi! Come here!”
When the two men appeared, Hakon said, “Whatever Princess Arinborg needs, you do for her. Even if she tells you to ride your horse to the sun.”
Mia pursed her lips. The way Hakon had barked orders just now—he’d sounded exactly like Dan. Controlling, overwhelming, violent Dan.
And yet, Hakon did not mean to control or overwhelm or dominate her. He barked and ordered people around to help the sick.
Mia studied him, torn between feeling angry with him and being impressed by his readiness to do anything for his people.
“Save the people, Arinborg,” Hakon said.
Mia nodded. “Maybe I have something that might help in my purse. Can the three of you bring more firewood and water for now?”
Hakon nodded and walked away with his men. She pulled the strap over her neck and turned away so that no one would see what she had, then opened her purse.
There was an almost-full bottle of Tylenol. Good. She’d crush the pills and only give the powder to those with high fever. And she’d need to be careful with the dosages to the babies—the wrong dosage might be toxic for their little livers.
She resumed her search. There was a makeup case, a manicure set, her wallet, a hairbrush, a couple of Band-Aids, her e-reader, her now-useless phone. She also found a couple of pens, a few elastic hair bands, a scarf, sunglasses, and a dead glow-in-the-dark bracelet she’d been given at a club Dan had insisted they go to a couple of weeks ago. She stared at the liquid moving inside the plastic tube as her mind drifted to that night, how she’d put on a smile and tried to play her role as the happy girlfriend. How she’d tried not to let Dan see that she wasn’t drinking.
Forcing herself back to her current role play, she quickly closed the purse. She’d have to keep the contents out of sight or it would be clear she didn’t belong here. She could crush the pills without anyone seeing them, but the rest…they could be the things that betrayed her. She would need to hide them well.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Y ou should go, Hakon.” Mia was cutting herbs at the table by the h
earth in the hospital. “You might get sick.”
After a couple of hours, the house was even louder with coughs and whoops, but Mia was glad they were all under one roof. Pertussis was highly contagious, and she needed to limit its spread as much as possible. Eleven people were already sick, including two babies, two toddlers, three older children, two women, and two men.
“Torfi! Bring more water,” Hakon barked, then glanced at her with a frown. “You might get sick, too.”
“It’s unlikely,” she said. She had been vaccinated, of course. When she started her residency program, she had been checked for the state of her immunization, and the pertussis vaccine had still been working. So, most likely, she was safe to treat the sick. Her baby would be okay, too. No research showed any influence of whooping cough on a growing fetus.
“Why?”
“Because I already had it.” It was as close to the truth as she could get.
Mia finished cutting onion and threw the bits into a bowl with honey and garlic for the antibacterial mixture. The cooks in the great hall had begun preparing the stew Mia had described to Solveig. Another girl had been sent out in the woods to gather more meadowsweet. The patients in the hospital would soon chew through Solveig’s reserves. Mia planned to crush the Tylenol later in the evening, when she would have some privacy.
“So did I,” Hakon said.
“For you, it was a long time ago. Your body…” she looked for the appropriate words to describe waning immunization. “Might have forgotten how to fight it.”
He chuckled. “My body would never forget how to fight.” He turned to Torfi, who had appeared at the door, took the buckets of water from him and began filling the cauldron to set the water to boil.
Now that Mia’s mixture was complete, she would have to make sure the sick took it regularly.
There was not enough honey for a larger batch, so more servants went out to look for it. They’d probably need to fight that bear. Thankfully, there was plenty of wild garlic and onion. They had excellent natural antibacterial qualities. Mia wished now that she had learned more about herbalism and natural remedies. She had always been fascinated by them and had read more about them than her classmates in medical school. But there was still so much she didn’t know.
