Eoghann blinked. “Me?”
“There is no other man I would trust more to set Suibhne to rights. It has long belonged to your people. May it be stronger for forging with ours.”
Him. The kentigern of Suibhne. It hadn't been his place, not when he was a boy, or a warrior following Diarmaid across Northumbria. Fate, the fickle bitch, carried strange surprises.
“What say you?” Hella squeezed his shoulder.
Idunna smiled, then gave a small nod.
With his wife by his side, Eoghann could conquer near anything. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”
Epilogue
Settlement of Suibhne – 953 A.D.
A warm breeze blew from the west hard enough to flutter the burnished locks of the child clinging to Eoghann's little finger. The boy's hazel eyes widened at the procession of horses, wagons, and men marching toward Suibhne Hall. He wrapped his tiny arms around Eoghann's leg, then buried his face against the linen trousers.
Eoghann lifted Hildr into his arms. “There's nothing to fear. You see the big one there, in front? He's your Uncle Hella. You're named for him. Beside him is your aunt, my sister. Then your cousin Birgir, and riding with him is his betrothed, Fulla.” He smiled when Hildr raised his gaze to the newcomers. “Our family came when you were born too. They will be delighted to see how you've grown.”
Hildr slipped his finger into his mouth and continued watching.
“Your ma will be overjoyed to see them.” Eoghann turned toward the hall. “Let's fetch her to welcome them.”
He carried Hildr inside, but Idunna met him before he reached their chamber.
In her arms, Pernille, barely a sennight old, lay awake and goggling at the ceiling. A fringe of dark hair curled at her crown. In her chubby face, he saw her resemblance to Idunna. His heart swelled with pride.
“Hella and Ealasaid?” Idunna, rosy cheeked, peered over his shoulder.
“They will be here any moment. Your son is shy.”
She laid her hand on Hildr's head. “You have never known a day of fear. Now is no time to start. Your uncle is a good king. Your aunt, the finest queen born in this land. They're wise, for they already love you. As they will love your sister.”
Eoghann took Idunna's hand. “Let's meet them.”
As the king's parade made its way into the courtyard, Eoghann took in his family. The son Blanid had predicted, nearly two summers old now, and a more perfect child than Eoghann could have hoped for. His new daughter, already a loud, lusty baby, no doubt thanks to her good Saxon-Dane blood. And his beautiful wife.
If only Diarmaid could have experienced the kind of love Eoghann had. The bitterness his brother carried had poisoned them both. Idunna's love was the cure for such corruption.
Idunna caught him looking. “What is it? Do I have something on my face?”
“If marriage is all it takes to spare a life after all this death, then I will marry Eoghann Kentigern.”
“You are perfect.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her mercy was his redemption. In her offer to save him, she'd given him everything.
“Far from perfect.” She leaned against him. “But my heart is overflowing with happiness. Is that not the better thing?”
“Is there anything more you desire?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. What else could I want? I have a home, my children. My family will gather tonight under one roof. Most of all, I have my husband, who gave me the things I love and cherish. We have a good, quiet life. Asking for more would be selfish, conqueror of my heart.”
The sense of peace that descended when Idunna stood next to him enfolded him again. What more could he ask for, indeed?
Pronunciation Guide
Ealasaid – Ee-lah-said
Eoghann - Owen
Idunna – E-thoo-na
Birgir – Beer-grr
Cairbre – Kahr-bra
Suibhne – Siv-na
aos si – ees shee
Maigread - Mah-raid
About the Author
A love of reading inspired Allison Merritt to pursue her dream of becoming an author who writes historical, paranormal, contemporary, and fantasy romances, often combining the sub-genres. She lives in a small town in the Ozark Mountains with her husband and dogs. It's not unusual to find her lurking in graveyards, wandering historical sites, or listening to ghost stories.
Allison graduated from College of the Ozarks in Point Lookout, Missouri with a B.A. in mass communications that's gathering dust after it was determined that she's better at writing fluff than hard news.
Other Books by Allison Merritt
The Treasure Hunter’s Lady (Legends & Lovers)
The Sky Pirate’s Wife (Legends & Lovers)
The Turncoat’s Temptress (Legends & Lovers)
The Convict & the Cattleman
The Wrong Brother’s Bride
Wildwood Spring
Her Heart’s Surrender
Wystan (The Heckmasters)
Eban (The Heckmasters)
Tell (The Heckmasters)
Boxsets:
Cowboy Up
Cowboy Up 2
Cowboys Forever
Once Upon A Regency
Her Heart’s Surrender
Available on Kindle & in print now!
Chapter One
Settlement of Suibhne, Northumbria – 935 A.D.
Beneath the heavy wooden door, through a crack as wide as Ealasaid’s thumb, moonlight danced on the stone stoop. It called her, her nursemaid Kirsteen said because she’d been delivered to the Kentigern doorstep by aos sí. The fae often visited the hills and meadows around her home under the starlight.
Getting across the slumbering bodies of her three sisters and two brothers wasn’t easy. They stretched out on the stone floor, buried beneath piles of wool blankets and animal furs to shield them against the cold. Tiptoeing through them and the handful of churls sprawled from here to the door made for a treacherous journey. It helped that they all slept like the dead.
Ealasaid picked her way around them and glanced over her shoulder at Eoghann. He flailed his arms as he lost his balance and nearly toppled over onto their oldest sister’s bed.
Ealasaid rolled her eyes. Her brother’s movements were clumsy and awkward. If he gave them away, they’d both face a switching. Numerous marks already crisscrossed her legs without adding to them. She pressed her finger to her lips.
Eoghann scowled, then made a shooing motion. A loose board concealed a hole dug under the wall she used to escape the stifling, smoky room she shared with her family. The board came up without any noise, and Ealasaid slithered through the hole with the slightest rustle of dirt and gravel. If anyone woke, they might guess a rat burrowed under the hall.
Eoghann joined her a moment later and shook dirt from his hair.
“You almost gave us away,” she whispered, nudging his ribs.
“Did not. Keavy could sleep through a herd of horses running over her.” He shook his head again, causing his burnished curls to dance. “Lazy bunch, the Kentigern’s other offspring. Come on, let’s go search for your stupid fairies.”
“They’re not stupid. You’re stupid.”
Nighttime journeys were a frequent thing for Ealasaid. She preferred going alone, but sometimes Eoghann followed her. He didn’t believe in the fae, so she didn’t know why he’d want to come, but it was easier to let him than worry he’d raise a fuss.
Beneath the harvest moon, in the chilly air of the autumn night, she chased him toward the hill overlooking the river.
When Eoghann reached the top, he dropped onto the grass and propped himself up on his elbows. “I’d like to take a ship all the way down the river and let the sea deliver me somewhere else.”
“Where? You’d end up in Frankish territory, and they’d skin you alive for being a Saxon.” She kicked the top off a dandelion head, sending seeds into the air.
“I’d fight them.” He mimed sword fighting. “I’d be their king.”
Eoghann twirled a blade of grass between his fingers. “I’ll never be more than an earl, but I would like to be king someday.”
She folded her arms. “You can’t. You’re the youngest son, and it’s a crime to wish Artair and Diarmaid dead so you can inherit Da’s position.”
“King, not chieftain. It has a better sound to it.” He threw the grass at her, but it fell short.
A nip of frost hung in the air. She hugged a thick silver-gray wolf skin tight around her shoulders. Last winter the Kentigern slayed the beast after it carried off a thrall’s child. Some of the churls still muttered the Kentigern hadn’t cared enough about his people to hunt the wolf before it caused real harm. They’d suffered the lack of meat while the Kentigern’s family ate well, snug in their great hall.
The churls and thralls didn’t know her father’s concerns went beyond one rogue wild animal. Only his closest advisors and eldest sons were told of the impending vikingr threat. The Norsemen were angry because the Kentigern increased the taxes after he promised not to. Rumors swarmed among the people about the dangers of angering Ingvar the Bloody Raven, king of the Norsemen to the north. The Kentigern put them to rest with his fierce barking—the settlement should carry on as usual until the moment vikingrs burned it to the ground. In public, he treated it as no more than a story to frighten children. In private, he plotted defense and worried about casualties of war.
Because her father’s men and her brothers knew, Ealasaid knew. She couldn’t resist listening when the men talked. Their conversations were more interesting than the chatter of the hall’s ladies and certainly better than anything Kirsteen talked about, unless it involved the fae.
What would the Bloody Raven’s Norsemen look like? They were rumored to be giants, unclean men who took what they wanted—women and thralls, food and drink, animals and treasure—then left nothing but ashes and bones in their wake.
Her father’s lords often trained for battle in the courtyard and her brothers along with them. Eoghann taught her to use a knife for defense, and she thought she could stab someone with a sword if it came down to it. But she liked plants and studying the way they grew. From ugly, odd-shaped seeds, they changed into delicate shoots, and then into useful things that could be eaten or woven or mashed for poultices. They could even be used against enemies.
Blanid, the settlement’s ancient healer and midwife, didn’t mind when Ealasaid joined her in herb hunting. If one knew where to look, they could find any plant they needed.
If the vikingrs came, with the knowledge Blanid passed along, Ealasaid figured she could easily poison any of the rotten bastards who tried to make her a thrall. She would not lay down, not the youngest daughter of the Kentigern. Or a changeling who might be aos sí royalty.
Stars glittered in the blue-black heavens. Her sister Keavy claimed somewhere above them, in the mad, sparkling mess, their mother waited for the day they would all join her. Ealasaid didn’t want to die. Dying meant pain, a fact proven by the way thralls twisted and moaned when they were on death’s doorstep. She harbored no illusions about her mother’s death. She’d gone the same way, torn apart by Ealasaid’s birth.
Eoghann entertained himself by throwing rocks down the hill to see if they would reach the water. Most of them fell short of the goal.
No sparkling fae danced on the overgrown grass and weeds, but they might be busy with their own harvests. Surely magical creatures needed a store for winter too.
She plucked long blades of grass and wove them together to make crowns, one for her and one for Eoghann. When she plunked it on top of his head, he scowled.
“A crown fit for the king of a hill.” She laughed and skipped away.
“I don’t want to be king of a single hill.” Eoghann tossed it at her. “I’ll rule most of the world like the Romans did. Emperor Eoghann.”
She caught the grass crown, then threw it back. They continued the game of catching it until it fell apart.
Water splashed downstream, and she faced the sound. Ealasaid’s breath came out as steam. She snagged the front of her brother’s jerkin. “Eoghann.”
A fleet of dark longships rowed up the churning water. With each stroke of the oars, they grew closer to the settlement’s landing. Sails hung like empty sleeves on the ships’ great masts. In the red and orange glow of the fire lighting the decks, men clustered in war armor.
Her heart stopped, but a rush of noise flooded her ears, high-pitched like the squeal of a dying rabbit. It left her dizzy and unbalanced. She clapped a hand over her mouth. A sharp snapping made her blink. The unfurled banner on the foremost ship whipped in the wind. So black and almost impossible to see, the material cracked again, then expanded to its full length. It displayed a red bird perched atop an eyeless skull. Two gold slashes made up the bird’s eyes.
Vikingrs.
Worse, the bloody raven symbol meant Ingvar’s ships.
Ealasaid’s knees weakened, and she almost dropped to the ground.
“Come on.” Eoghann grasped her wrist and pulled her behind him.
The wolf pelt fell from her shoulders. She staggered over the hill with him. When they found the path, she gained some strength. The distance to the hall from the river might have been the length of Northumbria.
Eoghann let her go as they approached the hall. She skidded to a halt in the dirt, tripped on the stoop, and banged her nose on the hard ground. Stars brighter than the fire on the Norse ships flared before her eyes. Hot blood spurted from her nose. Her knees almost failed as she struggled to her feet.
Eoghann started shouting the moment he threw open the door. “They’ve come to kill us.”
The Kentigern climbed to his feet. His face twisted with anger. “What the devil were you two doing out there?” His voice boomed big as thunder. “You know better than—”
Eoghann’s mouth closed with a snap.
“V-v-vik—” Ealasaid’s breath caught, and her nose throbbed. “Coming. On the river. It’s the Raven.”
“What’s happening?” Artair, her eldest brother, rubbed sleep from his eyes.
“Stupid children,” Keavy said. “Go back to sleep.”
Kirsteen climbed to her feet, then waved her thick finger in Ealasaid’s face. “I’ve told you time and again not to sneak out in the night.”
“But-but Ingvar the-the... he’s coming!” Eoghann’s face paled and his body shook.
“Spit it out, boy.” The Kentigern shook Ealasaid. “Why have you disturbed us?”
“Vikingrs. Ingvar’s flag flies over his longboat. He’s coming here. We saw them at the river.” Ealasaid gave out, collapsing against her father’s chest. “I know what I saw, Da. He’ll kill us all.”
The Kentigern dropped her. She landed on her bottom on the hard stone floor. “Artair, Diarmaid, come with me now.”
They knew better than to disobey. The three of them left. Eoghann didn’t make a noise of protest as he helped her up. His silence lent credit to his fear—normally he’d squawk in protest if they went without him.
“You’re lying.” Keavy sneered. “When Da finds out, he’ll toss you to the wolves.” She drew her fur up and buried her head beneath it.
Kirsteen attacked Ealasaid’s face with a wet rag. “Right mess you’ve made here. I hope you’re proud of yourself, disturbing the household like a peasant child. Wait until the Kentigern comes back. I’ll beat you both raw in front of the whole settlement.”
“We’re not lying.” Ealasaid’s stomach churned. “I’m afraid, Kirsteen.”
The iron bell in the middle of the settlement rang loud and frantically.
&n
bsp; Her siblings bolted out of their beds. Kirsteen’s rag fell from her hand, and her face paled. They glared at Ealasaid as though she’d brought the invasion herself. Eoghann stared at the floor.
The door burst inward. “Arm yourselves. We’ll not let them storm the hall.” Donald, one of the Kentigern’s men, and a dozen others crowded the room.
“Is it really Norse invaders, Donald?” Kirsteen wrung her hands together.
“Aye, it’s them.” His battle-scarred face drew tight with a scowl. He carried a wooden shield on one arm, a sword almost as long as him in the other.
Kirsteen collected the knives they used to cut meat and passed them out to Ealasaid’s brother and sisters. She handed a small knife to Ealasaid, handle first. “You’re to hide in the rafters. You and your sisters. They’ll not honor Keavy’s betrothal, and they’ll make thralls out of the lot of you girls.”
“What about Eoghann?”
“He’ll stand with us and do the Kentigern proud,” Donald said.
Eoghann’s face took on a green tint. For all his talk of conquering the Franks, he wasn’t a fighter.
Keavy grabbed Ealasaid’s arm. “Come on. We’ve got to climb.” Often choked with cobwebs and dust, the loft wasn’t well lit and made a good hiding place. The Norsemen might not notice it. Still, she clutched the knife—a dull thing hardly suitable for defense—in her sweaty fist and dragged her feet as Keavy tugged her along.
“You go on. I want to stay and fight with Eoghann.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Keavy snapped.
Beside her, the next sister, Neilina, four years Ealasaid’s senior, wailed. “Just do what she says.”
“Everyone will be murdered because of you.” Aileen, Neilina’s twin, grabbed a handful of Ealasaid’s hair. “Sheehy, you brought them here. I say we let them have you.”
Her Heart's Desire Page 19
