by Jianne Carlo
“Husband?” Dermid clasped both her hands, and she had to repress a grimace when he gave a whoop of delight. “Hear that, lads. Our wee bairn is now a woman! ’Twon’t be long afore her belly is big and we have a gaggle of wee Nyssas to spoil.”
Her skin ran cold, and she nigh choked on her own bitter spit. “I must go, Dermid. Heed my orders.”
“Aye Lady Nyssa. Come lads, let us inspect our lady’s quarters. ’Tis good, lass, to see you wearing proper clothes.” Dermid gestured at her gown.
“But what madness made you cut your beautiful hair?” Islay shook his head. “We will brew you the rosemary potion my wife used when her hair thinned.”
Islay’s wife, Elsa, had been Nyssa’s mentor and the castle’s healer. A wave of longing swept through her. How she yearned for a place to call home. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.
She sniffed and swallowed three times before saying, her voice gruffer than she wanted, “I have missed you, my friends. We will speak of everything later.”
For long moments she battled her emotions and could scarce bite back the tears watching the men make their way to the tent she’d occupied the day afore.
“Milady? Are you ready to continue?”
“Aye.” Nyssa glanced at Pálli and forced a smile. She kept her own counsel during the short walk to Grelod’s tent.
Pálli and his men halted at the entrance. “We will await you here, milady.”
Taking a deep inhale, she put her lips to the seam of the flap. “Queen Grelod, ’tis I, Lady Nyssa. May I enter?”
She twined her fingers together surprised to find them icy on the warmish day.
The flap opened and Grelod herself stood in front of Nyssa, sable brows pinched together, ruby lips drawn into a downturned line. “I am most displeased to find you here. Did you not heed my command yester eve?”
Aware that Pálli and his men strained to hear their conversation, Nyssa lowered her voice. “I have done as you ordered and would beg an audience.”
Their stares met.
Nyssa read the distrust in the queen’s jade eyes.
With a quick nod, Grelod stepped to the side and motioned Nyssa inside.
Keeping her spine stiff, Nyssa entered the tent and repressed a groan when she glimpsed Grelod’s entourage. Seven women sat around a table replete with fruit and what looked to be soldiers’ garb.
“Ladies. I need a few moments alone with Lady Nyssa. The mending will wait. Pray go and oversee the evening repast.” Grelod’s focus didn’t waver. She kept her gaze trained on Nyssa.
Nyssa was cert the queen’s eyes had burned a hole in her gown.
Silence fell over them after Grelod’s ladies departed. Nyssa had hoped the woman would demand an explanation, but she uttered not a word.
Repressing the urge to clear her throat, Nyssa clasped her hands together and squared her shoulders. “I have come to beg a boon from you.”
One eyebrow rose, but Grelod’s lips remained pressed together.
“I told Konáll of handfasting, the whole of it. Albeit I may have led him to believe that Castle Caerleah and the rest of my inheritance would be his e’en if he casts me aside—”
“I will ruin you if you attempt to cheat Konáll—”
“The boon I ask is that you have Lord Olaf prepare documents to deed my inheritance to Lord Konáll from this day forward.” Nyssa had to raise her voice at the beginning of her declaration to silence Grelod’s hissed threat.
The queen’s jaw sagged. She stumbled and caught the tent’s center pole to regain her balance.
Nyssa stifled a chortle at the shocked expression on Grelod’s face. The woman had ne’er expected this move. “Will you grant me this boon?”
Grelod rubbed a thumb o’er her chin and stared at Nyssa through shuttered eyes.
An uneasy quiet ruled the small space.
The silence lengthened.
Nyssa’s palms grew sweaty. She dried them by pretending to smooth her skirts.
“Aye.”
Her knees wobbled. She wanted to howl her relief, but instead blurted, “I would beg you to keep this matter ’tween the three of us.”
Grelod pursed her lips and continued her predatory scrutiny of Nyssa. She shook her head. “I fear ’tis not possible. Konáll will most cert question Thōrfin on the handfasting—”
“You could persuade your husband to allow my deceit to stand. It harms none but me.” Nyssa curled her fingers into fists and prayed.
“I fail to see how it harms you. You are now Konáll’s wife—”
“His handfast wife, my lady. He will cast me aside in a year and a day, if not sooner.” The saliva in her mouth bittered on the declaration.
The queen’s forehead creased. “Why are you so cert of this?”
“I am cursed.”
Grelod scowled. “I am Christian and do not believe in curses.”
Nyssa bit her tongue but could not repress a long sigh.
The queen waved a hand. “Although if I did, then I would ask for the all of this curse. Who cursed you? The precise wording. The all of it. Sit. I will not rest until I know every detail.”
“Konáll and Dráddør will soon finish their swordplay. He will go to your husband, milady.” Nyssa wrung her hands and glanced at the slight gap in the tent’s far side.
Grelod’s gaze swung in the direction of Nyssa’s. “Nay. They will have ended their practice. The horn for the breaking of our fast sounded not moments afore you set foot in this tent. Come. Make haste. We must intercept the men at their meal. Where is my cloak? Ah, there it is.”
After snatching the garment, Grelod bustled Nyssa out of the tent talking faster than a magpie chattered. “You have ne’er met a Viking afore, have you? Of course not. If you had you would know Konáll would ne’er set you aside. He, like all Norse men, is possessive and values his honor above all. He claimed you yester eve, and naught you can say or do will change that.”
Nyssa chewed the inside of her cheek and prayed ’twas enough distance ’tween the two women and the milling soldiers for none to overhear Grelod’s fierce whispers.
Grelod curled her hand around Nyssa’s arm. “Now, we must devise a strategy for separating the men so I can speak with Thōrfin. You will take the seat next to me. I will tell Konáll to sit next to you. If he protests, I will remind him you are a new wife and must be the sole object of his attention.”
Confused, not a little giddy from Grelod’s rapid transformation from enemy to ally, Nyssa concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other and tried to make sense of the queen’s words.
“At the end of the repast, caress his thigh and whisper in his ear that you wish him to escort you back to the tent. If he’s half as lusty as Thōrfin, we will ne’er see the two of you until dusk.”
Nyssa nigh fell over her own two feet. She halted abruptly in front of Thōrfin’s command tent.
“There.” Grelod clapped her palms together and flashed Nyssa a wicked grin. “One issue resolved. On the morrow, we will work on this curse of yours. I vow, I have not felt so energized since Thōrfin declared I could ne’er win a game of chess from him. He has won nary a contest since then.”
Nyssa laughed aloud when Grelod stamped a dainty foot.
Mayhap she had misjudged the queen.
* * *
“Grelod.” Thōrfin inclined his head when Nyssa and his wife ducked into the tent. “What is amiss?”
Hands on her hips, bosom thrust forward, Grelod quirked her brows and asked, “Aught must be amiss for me to have the pleasure of breaking fast with my king and husband? Nyssa, what say you to that? Konáll, find you something amiss in your wife seeking your company?”
Konáll recognized Grelod’s mood.
So did Thōrfin, for he narrowed his eyes, tapped his chin, and studied his queen before replying, “Beg pardon, wife, I had nay realized our consumption of two hot loaves, apples, pears, and cheese this morn in our tent was misconstrued. Alas my poor brain now comprehends
’twas a snack and not the breaking of our fast. Is that not so?”
“You are the most intelligent of men, husband.” Grelod moved to Thōrfin’s side, tucked her arm into his, and led him to the high seat at the table in the middle of the tent.
Konáll leaned to whisper into Nyssa’s ear, “I broke my fast most satisfactorily this morn.”
Color washed across her face.
“You blush deliciously, wife.” Konáll escorted Nyssa to the table.
“Come, Nyssa, sit beside me,” Grelod commanded.
Taken aback by the apparent ease ’tween the two women, Konáll glanced from one to the other.
“And will you sit with me, husband?”
A hint of amber glistened in Nyssa’s gray eyes, and her mouth twitched. What had caused her good humor? She had crept out of her turtle armor and…he stumbled. She had called him husband. He went from flaccid to harder than marble in one inhale. His dark mood lifted. “’Tis no other place for a husband other than next to his wife.”
He helped her onto the bench and though he couldn’t be cert Nyssa did it intentionally, she brushed close to him, and sat thigh to thigh by his side.
“Where is Dráddør?” She poured him a horn of ale and when a page offered them a basket of bread, selected a fat loaf.
“Answering a challenge. He will join us later to plan the invasion.” He had worked up a thirst on the practice field and drained half his horn in one long glug.
She tore the bread into smaller chunks, swept him a sidelong look, opened her mouth, and then closed it. Knowing she had stopped herself from saying something, he nudged her arm. “Say what you will, wife mine. Are you wondering how long ’twill be afore you are once again ensconced within your keep?”
“Aye, I wonder thusly, but nay, ’twas not what I wanted to say. Konáll, I encountered the elderly men from my keep this morn. I asked your man, Pálli, to have them camp near to our tent this eve. These men have lived at Castle Caerleah all their lives. They know the keep e’en better than I do. Particularly the expansion my Da completed when I was at the abbey.”
He frowned. “Abbey?”
“Aye. My Da sent me to Sumbarten Abbey to be fostered. My nursemaid, Gudrun, accompanied me.”
His blood chilled. “Nay. ’Tis unbelievable. The Lady Gráinne taught you?”
She twisted to him and huffed her surprise. “How know you of Lady Gráinne?”
His mind churned. He added all the pieces together. Six seasons ago, he and his older brother Brökk had kidnapped the abbess, Lady Gráinne, and her charge, Skatha, daughter of King Kenneth and the goddess Skaði. They had intended to ransom Skatha for their little sister, Hjørdis, whom they believed the King had stolen.
That his new wife had been schooled at Sumbarten Abbey could not be another coincidence. Trepidation snaked a veritable icy path up his back.
“Have you been to Sumbarten, Konáll?
“Aye. I have. But ’twas a short visit.” Briefly he explained Skatha’s kidnapping and subsequent marriage to his brother, Brökk.
Nyssa stared at him and rubbed her arms when he finished his tale. “I like this not, Konáll. ’Tis too amazing. Sumbarten is remote and not many know of it. How can this be, that I was sent there and you took Lady Gráinne hostage and then the kings command our wedding?”
“Agreed, Nyssa. The all of our union cannot be all these remarkable coincidences. Some force is behind all this. How long were you at Sumbarten?”
“I was there but the half of one spring. During that time, thrice, strange men tried to steal me from the abbey. Lady Gráinne decided ’twas safer for me to be at a sister abbey in the highlands. I left Sumbarten for Circe Fearn Abbey before my eleventh summer.”
Sheer terror wormed across his shoulders. Who had attempted to steal Nyssa from the abbey? “Tell me of these attempts to steal you.”
“’Twas neighboring farmers who wanted wives. Females were sore absent from the villages around Sumbarten Abbey. Many other pupils had been nigh stolen o’er the years. ’Twas only after King Kenneth sent a legion to guard the abbey a winter after I was sent to Circe Fearn that pupils were safe.” Nyssa shrugged. “I cannot believe those kidnappings were connected to us. ’Twas so long ago. And in truth, once Gudrun and I left Sumbarten, we were not hassled by any, warrior or farmer.”
“’There were no attempts to kidnap you at Circe Fearn?” Konáll massaged the back of his neck.
“Nay. Not a one. Albeit the abbey was many days away from any village. ’Twas a quiet, remote place. Still this news of Lady Gráinne and your brother’s wife is most disconcerting. Pray, describe Skatha to me.”
Konáll did a quick calculation. “I do not believe you would have met Skatha. She has seen nine and ten summers and was sent to abbey during her tenth and first summer.”
“I have seen eight and ten summers. Nay. We would not have been there at the same time.” She wore the look of a deer who had spied a hunting party bearing down.
He took the eating knife from her, reached for the round of cheese the page deposited earlier, and cut a dozen slices.
She gazed at the trencher, her shoulders slumped, one finger traced a worn knot on the table. “’Tis so frustrating. One step forward, three back. Since the curse I make no headway. I solve one mystery only to have another two or three burst forth. How is all of this connected? For surely there must be some tie. Have I escaped the curse of the stake only to fall into another?”
He lifted her chin. “You are alone no longer, mìlseachd, and the curse is broken. Remember that. ’Tis crucial. You are not doomed.”
A tear leaked from one eye. “I am so weary, Konáll.”
“Lean on me, wife. Let me take your burden. In two days, we take back Castle Caerleah. Then we must set the holding to rights. Afore winter sets in we will have vanquished all who seek to hurt you.” He hated to see the defeat writ in her features. “What say you to a long, hard gallop along the coast to clear the cobwebs and the curses?”
“I have no steed.”
“Ah, but there, Nyssa, you are in error. For your bride gift awaits your slender thighs near the river.”
Her eyes flickered to the tent’s entrance. She shifted in her seat. “Truly? You have gifted me a horse?”
He would gift her a score of horses to see delight wipe out the veil of sadness and worry from her eyes. “Aye. A fine mare.”
“A mare? How tall? Is she chestnut?” Nyssa shredded the chunk of bread in her hands, tearing the piece into crumbs. “I have not been on a horse in ages. There is naught I love more than flying into the wind.”
He couldn’t have stopped the wide grin spreading across his face any more than he could have prevented the rain from falling in Scotland. “Finish your bread and cheese and we will leave at once.”
“Nay.” She thumped the table. “I am hungry no more. I will wrap the bread and cheese in a cloth and we will stop and have a picnic after we have ridden long and hard.”
“What is this I hear?” Grelod fluttered her long lashes Konáll’s way. “More gifts for your bride? Have you told Nyssa of the jewels and the bolts of fine silks you left at our keep?”
The sparkle in Nyssa’s gray eyes fair blinded him. She had gathered half a loaf and a few slices of cheese into the center of a square of cloth and drummed her fingers on the table, her haste to leave more than obvious to all.
“’Twas to be a surprise, Lady Grelod, when I bring my new wife to your keep next summer.”
Grelod tsked. “You should have warned me, Konáll.”
In truth he had warned Grelod a multitude of times not to mention the treasures left on her isle.
Thōrfin rolled his eyes. “You, of all, should know that my wife can scarce keep a secret. And your woman appears about to gallop right out of the tent. Pray, take her to the mare afore she shatters.”
Nyssa fair glowed, and she smiled so broadly her cheeks must have ached. “My thanks, my lord.”
Konáll scraped the bench back f
rom the table, hopped to one side, lifted Nyssa, and set her down at his side. He curled an arm around her waist, inclined his head, and said, wearing a wide grin, “We will take our leave, then. I will meet you afore midday back here.”
Nyssa brimmed with elation and fair skipped all the way to where the horses were stabled. A rough lean-to sheltered the score horses from the brisk wind. Packets of sooty clouds dotted the sky.
Konáll licked a finger and tested the wind. “A storm is coming.”
She kicked at a stone. “Aye. I know. The dawn was fire red.”
He tugged her around the wooden structure.
The stallions on the opposite side of the clearing reared and kicked as they walked by. “I count a dozen stallions. Such horseflesh, Konáll. I have ne’er seen steeds like this. They are enormous.”
“They are from the Saracen lands.”
She had eyes only for the horses and drank them in as if etching them in her memory. “Mama swore I only learned to walk so I could follow the horses around. She said I begged to ride, that I stole apples and carrots from the kitchens to feed the stallions. My Da gave me my first mare when I had but six summers. “
Konáll stared at his wife astonished by the verbal barrage and her voluntary disclosures. “I take it you are overfond of horses?”
She shot him a crooked grin. “As you are of raspberries?”
Heat roasted his cheeks. He knew not how to answer her query. Thank Odin they had reached the mare he’d purchased from Ali H’malik.
“Here is your bride gift, Nyssa.” He waved at the bay horse with socked feet tethered under an oak tree with spreading branches.
Clasping the sack of food between her hands, Nyssa stared at the mare seemingly unaware of the tears streaking her cheeks.
A strange feeling lodged thick and hard in his throat. The kind of emotion he reserved for his beloved sister, his brothers, and Skatha. He vowed to keep this look on her face forever. To shower her with surprises and love.
Konáll stumbled.
Nay. She was his wife. He felt the pride of possession. ’Twas all. Not love.
