by Sandra Lake
Lothair stood on the stone steps of Brodno’s church. He glared out over the expansive green forests surrounding the village, fringed with golden fields of wheat ripe for the harvest. The leaves of the beech trees by the river were changing to yellow. Soon they would lose their foliage, and not long after that, winter would be here.
Lothair needed to get Katia home long before that day, but staying here in Brodno for a few extra days would make no major difference. His friends needed the rest of being indoors for a few nights after traveling mountain trails for over a month. Still, he thought as he wandered inside, he and Katia had been here for weeks already, and the discomfort of living so close to her but staying so distant was beginning to rot his insides.
The two young women stepped into the empty church and Lothair forgot what he was thinking. The pair had let their hair down, with small braids sweeping back from their temples. They had altered their travel garments with small pieces of colorful ribbon and wore fine shawls. Katia was . . . smiling, truly smiling. In truth, she was stunning. He allowed himself a moment of weakness to gaze upon her—surely they would not be attacked in church. At least, the chances were reasonably low.
Lars clutched Tosha’s hand and the pair stepped closer to the priest, who waited for them under a stained glass depiction of the Virgin Mary. Lars helped Tosha down to her knees in front of the altar.
Lothair stood next to Katia, his palms sweating for some reason, perhaps due to the uncomfortably rising temperature in the small church. Why was it so hot? He tugged at his collar.
Lars was quick with a blade, never picked a fight he couldn’t win, and was always the first to sign on to whatever new adventure Lothair came up with. But the moment his friend rode up to the inn, he knew it was all over. The way Lars touched Tosha, helping her off her horse, the way he looked at her, and the stupid grin across his face spoke for him.
Lothair had lost another good man to the deceptive pit of matrimony. It always looked good at the start. The girl always looked nice, smiled pretty, smelled sweet, and uttered little lies about how she would only ever love one man forevermore. But it was all a mask that would be removed quickly after leaving the church. Two of his other close friends had already been deceived this way, and now Lars. He only hoped that this enamored stage of the relationship lasted past Lubeck so that he would not be stuck on the road with the pair when they realized what a mistake they had made.
The most basic of marriage contracts was signed, the priest finished his prayers, they all rose, and Lars practically tackled his bride to the floor.
“Lars.” Lothair tugged his shoulder. “Come on, brother, the priest needs his fee for the ceremony.” He tugged again, but it was no use. Lars swept Tosha into his arms and started blindly stomping toward the door.
Lothair looked back to see a very awkward-looking Katia, bright pink with embarrassment.
“How much does my friend owe you, Father?” he asked the Polish priest.
“Your charming wife has already covered the fee.” He smiled warmly at Katia, who smiled back weakly then quickly looked away.
“Shall we take our leave, then, wife?” Lothair arched his brow at her and offered her his arm.
“Thank you, Father,” Katia said. “It was a beautiful blessing.” Lothair shook his head. In less than three weeks, she had mastered yet another tongue. That must be a record of some degree.
He escorted Katia out of the church and they both stood stiffly for a few moments on the stone steps, breathing in the fresh autumn air. The scent of newly thrashed grain floated in the wind, the sun warming their upturned faces.
“Winter is coming,” she said in a melancholy tone. Lothair was surprised—she rarely allowed herself to appear outwardly forlorn.
Lothair said reassuringly, “I will do everything I can to get you to Tronscar before winter.” He watched her closely. The woman standing before him was not the same girl he had taken from Andrei’s palace. Since their argument on the ridge, she no longer hid her true sentiments from him. He wasn’t sure he liked the change, sensing the quiet sorrow she held below the surface.
She blinked several times at the bright beams of the late afternoon sun, her lashes fanning out across her delicate, high cheekbones. Katia’s was a pure and natural beauty. He could never imagine seeing another face so well formed. Her alabaster skin was flushed with the warmth of the sun, calling out to be touched. He stroked his thumb across his knuckle, suppressing the desire to reach out and gently stroke down her cheek.
Every day spent with her was different and new. Sometimes she was as lighthearted as a maid on Mayday, giggling endlessly with her friend. Some days, like today, she was something else—serene and stoic. Other days she was wide-eyed and lost, humbled with worry for those she loved.
Every day she was beautiful, but in this moment, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He knew then that she was imprinted forever on his heart.
“Shall we walk for a little while?” she asked, looking over at the small winding river that flowed past the village. “I think we should give them a little time alone at the inn.”
“Agreed.” He tucked her small hand under his arm, still playing husband and wife. He did not know what to say, and for the first time, he felt uneasy with the silence between them. “How long will this enamored stage last, do you think?”
“Hmm.” She twister her lips to the side, something she did when she was thinking. “I give them the winter. Spring will bring a fresh burst of gusty, lust-filled winds and then by next summer she will want to cut his throat and ship him off to sea.”
“You give them that long?”
She shrugged. “Tosha is pretty wonderful you know. I did not pick her for my sister for nothing. She is loyal, hardworking, and steadfast. I’m not at all certain if your friend deserves her.” She smirked up at him. He liked this side of her. He’d missed being able to just be normal with her, to speak to her as a friend.
“Oh, I guarantee he does not deserve her, but that is irrelevant. The greater question is, how will she survive his mother?” he said. That snapped the smirk off her face.
“What’s wrong with the mother?”
“Nothing, the countess is charming. She has her sister, the Queen of Denmark, over for extended stays several times a year. I’m just not sure that they will all be excited for Lars’s new addition to the family,” he said dryly.
“Lars’s mother is a countess. That means—” She gasped.
“Yes, that means that if your father kicks you out of Tronscar, you could always go live with your friend Tosha at her fine castle.”
Katia started to giggle—an evil, plotting sort of titter—and leapt a few feet with excitement. She clapped her hands. “Do you think she knows?” she managed between her laughter.
“Knows that she is the future Countess of Northum?” He shrugged. “Not sure. Lars doesn’t like to talk about his family much. It would not surprise me if he has forgotten to mention it to her.”
“Oh, this is so exciting. She will make the best countess ever!” She clapped and jumped a little, clutching his arm into her chest. He wished she would not do that. He did not need more sources of arousal in her presence.
“So is that what you aspire to? I would think the jarl would prefer a prince of Denmark or Sweden over a simple noblemen from Saxony.” He looked over to see her pinch her brows together.
“My far wants me to be happy. I am not promised to anyone and he says I never will be. I’m allowed to make my own decisions as to whom I accept.” She smiled.
“If you truly want to be useful to Norrland, you could do that best with a strong marital alliance.”
“I will serve Norrland best by keeping my brothers out of wars whenever possible,” Katia corrected him.
“You don’t intend to wed then?” he asked.
She had stopped walking and now sat
down on a large rock by the side of the river, studying the rushing water. She broke off a dried cattail, dropped it into the water, and watched it float away.
“I will never wed a man that I do not respect, and”—she twisted her lips in a tight pout—“love,” she mumbled. “Guess I will be an old maid then, won’t I?” She wouldn’t look at him.
Lothair sat down next to her and peered into the water, hoping an answer would float his way. She was extraordinarily confusing—confusing and insufferably bewitching. It physically pained him not to reach out and wrap his arms around her.
“So you will go back to Tronscar, save your brothers, and live out your life teaching them every foreign tongue that you can bore them with.”
“No,” she sighed. “After I get the map to my father, I will go to Korski, to find my brother.” She swallowed hard. “If we are too late in sending help . . . I will still find him, and I will bury him next to our father.” She twisted her lips again and wiggled her nose. He could tell she was warding off her tears. “That is where we first found each other, at my father’s grave. Urho goes there often to take care of it.”
“You cannot solve everyone’s problems, Kat. You cannot save the world.”
“Why not?” She snapped her green eyes back to him, and her lips pressed out in a flat line. “I have no interest in sewing, or cooking, or keeping house, and my mother has no need of my help. What else will I do with my time? I almost wonder if the wealth of Norrland helps me or hurts me. I feel useless.” One rogue tear escaped and she dashed it angrily away. “My only real role is to braid my hair and talk sweetly to noblemen that come to see my father. I have no purpose above being a showpiece.” He watched her try to restrain her building rage. “I live a life of idleness and waste. If I were Tosha, I would be expected to pull my weight, learn a skill, and wed as well as I could, but I have no expectations. My father’s freedom gives me so much room that I will never amount to anything.”
“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard you say, and you say a lot of stupid things.” He tossed a stone, skipping it across the stream.
“Stupid? Really? Well, what do you call you going off to make friends with a sadistic murderer bent on war, death, and destruction?” she asked, smiling sarcastically. “If my life is one of idleness and wasted potential, then so is yours, from what I have seen.”
He glared at her. She was a stupid, reckless chit and she was . . . absolutely correct. He had been given more than he deserved, more than he had worked for, and yet he wanted none of it. It was empty and hollow, and his life was a daily reminder of his father’s guilt.
“So after you go to Korski and help your brother, then what will you do?” He kept his focus on skipping stones across the water.
“I have a farm in Turku.” She sighed wistfully. “Don’t laugh at me.” She peeked at him from the corner of her eye and tossed her own stone, skipping it farther than he had. “My uncle Peter was living there with my cousins, but he is to be the new magistrate, and they are moving closer into town. They were going to let out my land to a tenant, but I think I may want to go stay there for a while. Urho and I always talked about building ships together. He is a very skilled craftsman.” A proud smile crossed her face. “I suppose I could turn my farm into a shipyard. I loved my childhood in Finland. It was happy and simple. Tronscar is . . .” She looked away from him. “I am not sure I want to live under my parents’ roof any longer. And perhaps after hearing all of what I’ve done, they will not want me. My reputation at court will be ruined, to be sure.”
“Is that why you ran away to Andrei’s palace, so that you would be unable to wed?”
“I didn’t run away!” she snapped, not answering his question.
They both sat silently, watching the last reflections of light dance across the surface of the moving stream. After a while, it stopped feeling painful to sit in silence—it felt relaxed and natural.
Lothair had a lot to figure out, and so did Katia, from the sound of it. After she solved all the world’s problems, she was going to go build ships in Finland. Interesting. He knew she had enough ambition for it. She was unrealistic and perhaps slightly insane, but not lazy, that was for sure.
“Are you hungry?” He stood up and offered her his hand.
“Starved.”
As they strolled back to the inn, Katia peppering him with questions about Tosha’s future home. She told him that Tosha’s mother was the head cook and that Tosha never knew her father. Yet she had been raised by half of the jarl’s senior commanders. In many ways, Tosha was a princess of the Iron Kingdom just as much as Katia. If Tosha’s mother-in-law was going to give her a hard time about being lowborn, the countess would quickly discover how resilient a Norrland maid can be.
Lothair laughed at the thought of the Countess of Northum being put in her place. To be certain, it was about to get a lot more interesting in Lubeck.
***
Two days later, the four friends set out on the next leg of their long journey home. This leg of the journey had superior roads, yet would find them in more densely populated areas, known for their cutthroat highwaymen. Lothair couldn’t let his guard down again.
If the weather held and they didn’t have too much trouble on the road, he expected to be in Prague in less than two weeks. From there, they would be in German territories and the road would be safer.
Fortunately, Lothair had traveled extensively in his youth and therefore he knew hundreds of landowners, barons, and lords. The protection of being a relation of the duke would mean warm welcomes and he could hire additional guards for their journey. Perhaps when Katia was better guarded, Lothair would be able to sleep at night. He thought then of her family. Did they yet know Katia was missing from her brother’s home in Korski? What agony they would be in, not knowing where their beautiful, troublesome daughter was?
***
A week after they left Brodno, Lothair and Katia were both ready to kill the newlyweds. The couple pawed at each other continually, and could be heard taking part in the benefits of matrimony day and night.
“Lothair!” Lars called out from behind him on the road. “Looks like rain. Let us stop and make the women some shelter.” Lothair rolled his eyes at Katia, who was riding beside him. They often rode ahead together to avoid the two mauling lovebirds.
“He just wants to find a dry place to bother his wife,” he mumbled under his breath for only Katia to hear. She giggled, clearly agreeing with him.
“Perhaps when we reconnect with Valen and Fist in Prague, we could leave these two behind. We will make much better time. I wager it would take a week or more for them to even notice we left.” She laughed and he joined in. He really liked the sound of that lighthearted laugh.
“Come, let’s make two shelters. We will stick them far away in the trees. With luck the sound of the rain will drown them out.” The teams were now irrevocably divided; Katia and Lothair against Lars and Tosha. They had started out their journey as two pairs of best friends, but now Katia and Lothair had been tossed aside by their dearest friends for the sake of love. To retain their sanity, they needed to stick together.
A seasoned team, Katia and Lothair had their camp routine down pat. One went for long branches, while the other unpacked the canvases. One started the fire, while the other fetched the water. One started the soup, and the other constructed two warm beds. They had the entire camp set up before Tosha and Lars came back from their walk “to secure the area.”
Just as the soup was ready, the sky opened up, dumping a heavy rain on their heads. Katia and Lothair took shelter under the goatskin tarps, with their bowls and hunks of stale bread in hand. The newlyweds had already taken shelter in their own tent. Thunder cracked, and what seemed like an ocean of water rained down upon them in a matter of minutes. From the weight of the rapidly collected rain, one side of the tent collapsed, dumping its load without warning onto
Katia’s head.
She gasped as freezing water crashed down all around her, soaking her to the bone. Lothair moved quickly to help secure the tent’s collapsed roof back in place, but the damage was done. Katia and her once dry, warm bed were submerged in several inches of cold autumn rain.
She tried to grin away her obvious discomfort.
“I will get Lars,” Lothair said. “You and Tosha can share my bed for one night.” He was standing up when they heard the familiar sound of Tosha’s giggling gasps. Lothair glanced back at her. “Perhaps I will give them a few minutes . . .” He gave her an awkward nod.
***
“Good idea.” Katia turned her head away. Embarrassed and pathetic did not begin to describe how she was feeling. She began to shiver, the cold setting in quickly.
“You should take off all your wet clothing. You’ll get a chill.” He moved over to his side of the tent. “Here, put this on.” He passed her his spare wool tunic and turned his back to grant her privacy.
Katia’s hair was dripping wet. She rubbed it with a corner of her wet gown, but it did little help. She did, however, feel much better once she was out of her soaked garments and draped in his dry clothing. She wrung out the water from her clothing and the blanket and hung them from the rope suspended between the two angled supports of the tent. She didn’t know why she bothered, though—the air was so damp and cold, nothing would dry until the rain ended, tomorrow midday at best.
“Here.” Lothair wrapped her in his blanket. She nodded her thanks and found a dry spot to sit near his bed. “We should try and get some rest. It is our turn to sleep first tonight, and Lars will be waking us in a few more hours.”
“Of course.” Katia moved to lie down on the ground.
“Katia, do not be ridiculous. You will take my bed. You are still shaking,” he accused.
She didn’t have the strength to argue, so she lay down on his mat. “Thank you, Lothair. Sleep well.”
“Would you . . . I think I should put my arm around you until you are warm. If you get ill out here . . .We still have a long road to Prague.”
