by Sandra Lake
“Hell’s bells! I’m not staying here while Urho and his family are slaughtered. I’m going back to Tronscar and helping with the defense of Korski any way I can find.”
“Save your breath, princess,” he said. “There is no bloody way I am letting you get within a hundred miles of Korski before order is restored. Next time I see you wielding that cursed sword of yours, you’ll be over my knee the next minute being introduced to the manner in which German barons discipline obstinate wives.”
“You wouldn’t dare touch me, Lothair, so spare me your empty threats.”
“Empty threats? A red backside is just what you need, princess. You’ve been let to run wild for too long.”
She poked her finger into his chest with bruising force. “Lothair, if you ever raised a hand to my backside, you would need to sleep with one eye open for the rest of your life. I would have my revenge, in this lifetime and the next. That is my promise to you.” She ground her teeth down so hard her jaw hurt.
“Bryn!” Lothair shouted across the corridor to the entry. “Retrieve the baroness’s cloak. We shall be traveling home at once.” Lothair clenched his jaw.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she snapped.
“Oh yes you are,” he countered.
“I have had too much to drink to ride in a saddle,” Katia spat out.
“That is why you will be riding with me, sweet wife,” Lothair responded, his rage cold and controlled.
“I think not. I shall surely fall and break my precious neck and I know how concerned you are with my health.”
“I assure you that you will not fall,” he said.
“I will sleep here tonight and that’s the end of it. I’m not going anywhere with you.” Katia matched his angry glare.
“And yet I say you are.” Lothair reached for her once more.
“Don’t touch me!” She dodged away and darted back into the hall with Lothair following close behind her.
“Tosh, I have a throbbing headache and my arm is sore. May I trouble you for a place to rest my head?” The excuse was easy to come up with because it was entirely true. The only thing she had to fake was her calm delivery.
“Of course.” Tosha pushed her chair back and laced her arm with Katia’s. “I hoped you would be staying the night—I had the best chamber prepared for you.”
“Excellent. May I retire directly?” she asked.
“Eager to have your man alone, Katia?” Lars cackled annoyingly.
“You know me all too well, Lars.” Katia rolled her eyes at Tosh.
“I will escort you,” Lothair said.
“No need, husband. Tosha will show me the way.” Katia clutched Tosha’s arm tightly and her friend furrowed her brow, clearly realizing that something was wrong.
“Right this way, Kat.”
Once they were safely around the corner, Katia dragged Tosha over to a dark alcove off the entrance.
“Tosh, you must help me. I must leave Lubeck tonight.”
Chapter 20
The bow of the Iron Queen cut through the winter waves like hot Norrland steel through snow. Salt spray stung her eyes as she worked the till, allowing Katia to let her tears of anguish flow without notice. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. Her heart was in fragments of broken glass; the right thing to do was go home to Tronscar, help her brother Urho in whatever way she could find, and provide every piece of information to her father to give him advantage in strategy. A clear and vivid description of Andrei and his top commanders would be invaluable in plotting the offense in Finland.
Yet even after repeating all the reasons why she had made the right decision to leave Lothair, she could still find no comfort. Lothair would be angry with her, very angry. Knowing that he would resent her was devastating. Especially after all they had shared.
The sea was a black, open void, a never-ending expanse that stretched out before her. Would Lothair ever forgive her? Would he someday understand?
A silver beacon of moonlight cast a mile-long sliver of brightness across the surface of the surging sea. It was beautiful, in a terrifying sort of way. The fifty oarsmen labored against strong northeast winds that hampered their progress. They would be forced to take a zigzag course that would nearly double the distance between Lubeck and Tronscar, no doubt adding several miserable days to the journey.
At least it looked like they would have clear skies in the morning. They would need every ounce of daylight to navigate around the ice flows that had broken off from the shoreline, adding danger on top of the strong winds. One wrong flinch of the till and she could tear off the iron rivets that held the overlapping seams of the ship together. She couldn’t afford any mistakes. They would reach Tronscar only a few weeks before the long, black blanket of winter held them captive with over a month of little to no daylight.
It would surely feel like the longest winter of her life . . . no sun, no warmth, no Lothair, who was all of those things to her heart. A rogue sob tore through her lungs. Rikard turned his head and placed his hand over hers on the till, taking over.
For once, she let him.
***
Green, yellow, and purple light blended, swirled, and danced overhead. She rode at top speed across the familiar open field, now covered in a few inches of fresh snow. It was a relief to be home, but part of her brain called out in agony and heartache for Lothair, despairing that he was not here by her side to experience the beauty of the northern lights.
As she approached the fifty-foot iron spiked gates, the right panel opened. The fire pits in the yard allowed ample light for all the villagers to witness her return. The whispers and murmurs of disbelief started almost immediately. Katia would take time to visit them all tomorrow, when she had better control over her sentimental heart. For the moment, she needed to see her mother and father, hold her brothers, and have a good long cry.
She dismounted from her horse and a servant rushed to her side, bowed a greeting, and led away her mount.
As she took the final steps forward into her parents’ home, Katia pushed back the hood of her cloak and prayed for courage. A mountain of dread filled her heart, creeping up her throat and burning the rims of her ears.
So much had happened—she was not the maiden that had left to summer in Turku so long ago. She was a woman of the world now, not only of Tronscar. Her right arm ached and she was glad of it. She rubbed the scar, which would always remind her of Lothair. The ache she felt for him was so much greater than any fatigued muscle. For over three months, she had spent every waking moment with him. Now every hour spent apart nagged at her like an unforgiving toothache. He was never more than a breath from her thoughts. But this was a homecoming, and not the time to dwell on what could not be helped.
With her first step into the great hall, she felt solid and secure. The room was lit with a thousand candles—no sinister shadows here—and the great, blazing hearth sent warmth rushing to her wind-chapped cheeks. The tables were teeming with men and women taking their evening meal, and there was a comfortable sound of contented merriment. Her parents hosted a hundred high-ranking domestics on any given winter’s night. Tonight, it appeared they had invited an extra hundred.
Rollo, the chief orator of Tronscar, slammed the iron staff three times. Katia did not bother with an official notice of her arrival but instead ran straight for the dais, where the head table stood, overlooking it all.
Her mother gasped, silencing the hall. Katia’s eyes became unfocused as the sight of her mother rushing toward her. Their tackling embrace would have taken them to the ground if not for the locking arms of her far crushing Lida and Katia to his chest. Her mother cupped her cheek, sweeping tears away gently.
“Katia, oh, my precious girl,” her mother said, tears rolling down her face. “We thought you dead—we had reports that—” she whispered, her voice thickening.
“I am we
ll, Mama. See, I am well.” She tried to send her mother a smile of comfort but her heart was too heavy for the smile to ring true. Her far cupped her face in his powerful hands and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “Tell her, Far, I am well.”
“Our heart—you are home.” The jarl had intended to speak in a whisper, but his words seemed to carry throughout in the silent hall.
“Katia!” The word was followed by a stampede. Hök and Stål carried their younger brothers, Ansgar and Aron, on their backs. Katia’s mother released her long enough that she could hug and kiss each brother, but Zander stayed back from the group.
“Come here and embrace your sister. I have even come to miss you, my little horn-headed goat.” Katia reach to grab hold of her brother but he pulled away to hide behind Stål. “What in the blazes is wrong, Zander? I’m the one in the sorry state.”
“He thinks you hate him,” Stål whispered.
“Why would I—” she began to ask.
“He thinks you never came home because of him, because of what he did to you before you left. You said you’d rather live with trolls,” Hök explained with unnecessary accuracy.
“I have come to realize,” Katia said softly as she skirted around Stål, never looking away from Zander, “that having a tormenting little brother who never gives me a moment’s peace is quite good training for traveling in lands filled with muskrats and vipers. Get over here and hug me, before I kiss both of your cheeks in front of your mates.” Zander gave a shy smile and ran into her arms.
Her mother could hold off no longer. “Katia, you must explain yourself. For months we have received reports of sightings of you from hundreds of miles away.”
“Sightings? From whom?” Katia turned to the jarl, who was towering over her. “Far, there is so much to tell you. Did you get my message? Did you get my map?”
Her mother gasped in shock and her father growled deep in his throat—the bad kind of angry growl.
“Heavens no, Katia!” Lida cried. “Tell me it is not true—tell me you did not deliberately travel into Rus territory just to steal that stupid map!”
“Stupid?” Katia struggled to rein in her temper.
“Answer your mother!” her father boomed, their happy reunion officially over.
“What did you mean by ‘stupid map’?” Katia protested. “I was able to pinpoint exact locations where Andrei is wintering his troops and locations for—”
The jarl grabbed her by both shoulders and started to shake her, squeezing her injured shoulder. She tried not to whimper. “You could have been killed! Selfish girl, have you no heart for your mother, for your brothers, for me!”
“Magnus, stop!” Lida pulled the jarl’s hands off her.
“Katia, start explaining—quickly. I fear I will not be able to protect you from your father’s wrath while my own is so very great,” her mother said. Her mother was never more than mildly annoyed, but now she was about to make herself ill she looked so furious.
Katia rubbed at the sore sting that was mounting in her arm. “I’m old enough to decide what I want to do with my life. Smiling for two-faced idiot dukes and earls is not what I want. If sons can be expected to go off to war to protect their families, why not a daughter? It is my right to protect my family any way I know how.” She raised her chin. “And I did not fare so terribly. No one was hurt on my mission and my information will be of great value to the king and to you, Far, to organize your defense.”
“Mission?” Lida said disbelievingly, tossing her hands in the air.
Her father blasted. “Have you so little faith in me that I would leave a wisp of a girl in charge of the securing the safety of my people?” The jarl stepped aside and Katia could not believe what she saw—it was one of Andrei’s guards, an enemy within their very walls.
“Far—” She rushed to his side and jumped up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “That man is a traitor. I saw him in Bogolyubovo. He is Prince Andrei’s guard, he is—”
“My top-ranked field commander, Bercik, who has just returned from his assignment of infiltrating Andrei’s command,” Magnus said coldly.
“No!” Katia’s pride emptied as water through a sieve.
“Yes.” Her father closed his eyes and turned away from her.
“But, I thought . . . Otso said forces would be in Korski before the harvest . . .”
“Stop, Katia!” Lida said loudly. “Your father and I will talk with you privately in our chamber, after he has finished speaking with Rikard. I believe, Magnus, we best reserve certain details for a select number of ears.” Her mother stroked Ansgar’s small blond head. Her littlest brother’s brow was pinched tight with concern.
Tero and the spy stepped forward hesitantly. “My jarl,” Tero interrupted. “Bercik has just asked me who this young maid is—he has never had the privilege of being introduced to your daughter.”
“Daughter?” The spy did not hide his shock.
“Aye, my good man,” the jarl said. “This is my daughter, Katia. Katia, this is Bercik, who joined our fleet from Estonia last year.”
Bercik whispered under his breath, “It was you, wasn’t it? The maid I let into Andrei’s chamber.”
Every blood vessel in her father’s face seemed about to burst. “Katia?” he roared.
“I beg your pardon, my jarl.” Bercik inclined his head. “I do not mean to suggest—only she had been sent to serve—I do not believe the act transpired.” The spy had begun to sweat. Clearly it was not his intent to tell her father that she had been debauched by a Rus madman. “Your daughter has fine courage, my jarl. But may I ask after her health? The last time I saw her, she was near death, vomiting blood in his arms.”
“Katia?” Her father arched his brow and awaited her response.
“It was only a diversion,” she said. “Merely a ruse to escape the chamber of the prince.”
“Yes, but—” Bercik turned his attention to her father. “Excuse me, my jarl, if I may?” Her father gestured for him to continue. “I inquired after you. They said you died in the night and that the envoy from Spector Company buried you in the woods—that one of them claimed to be your husband.”
“Oh, well, yes, that is a very long story.” Katia turned her attention back to her father and mother’s piercing eyes. “Do you remember that charming young swordsman from Lubeck? You know, years back, he visited with the Duke of Saxony?” They nodded their acknowledgment. “Yes, well, as I was saying, a group of warriors from Saxony, Angli, and Flanders helped me and Tosha flee the prince’s palace—” She suddenly remembered the wonderful news of Tosh’s marriage and turned to her mother. “Where is Ragna? I must go speak with her and tell her all about Tosha’s wonderful news. She wed a viscount, Mama—she is going to be a countess. Can you believe it?” She smiled with joy but her mother only appeared more confused.
“Katia!” he father snapped. “What of this envoy?”
“Fear not, Father, they were not conspiring against the north. They were simply there by way of invitation to hold tournaments with Prince Andrei’s men.” No need to be too truthful with her father about Lothair and his friends working as mercenaries. “They were lured under the false banner of a peace alliance, I might add. Anyway, Baron Hanseatz and Viscount Northum and Valen and Fist were all just wonderfully helpful. Lothair has literally saved my life more times than I can count. I did save his a few times as well, of course, but still, I can truthfully say that without Lothair, I would not have made it home.”
Rikard stepped forward. “That is not entirely true, Katia. You are safe at home now—the lies must end.”
“What lies, Katia?” Her mother softly spoke but her tone was serious.
“Mama,” Katia stalled, “I injured my shoulder last month and it still gives me great pain. I haven’t felt this tired in all my life. Might I lay down for a little while and explain everything in the morn?�
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Her parents looked at each and then nodded their heads in unison.
“You do appear very thin and pale.” Her far scrutinized her from head to toe. Could he tell that she was no longer a virgin just by looking at her? She hoped not. She really did have a pounding headache and was exhausted beyond measure, but she also wanted to make her escape from the hall because she had no idea how to explain.
Her grandmother’s sage advice was that when you don’t know how to go on, just cough. In other words, divert for a moment to think before speaking. A little sleep was what she needed. She was bound to come up with some reasonable-sounding explanation when she had a clearer head.
Besides, being smashed over the head with a hammer would have felt milder than the revelation about her father’s spy. Rather than taking comfort in the fact that Tronscar was well guarded and prepared, she felt gutted. Everything she thought she had accomplished had been for nothing. She intended on vomiting the moment she reached her chamber pot.
Lida laced an arm around her waist, and Magnus touched her chin, kissing her tenderly on the cheek. With her mother at her side, Katia walked slowly in the direction of the stairs.
“I am so tired, Mama. I could sleep for a year.” She dropped her head down on her mother’s shoulder as they took their first steps out of the hall.
“That is probably for the best. It will be at least that long before your father lets you out of your room.”
Bang, bang, bang, thundered Rollo’s iron staff.
“Lord Lothair Blienskastel, Baron of Hanseatz.”
Katia’s heart stopped.
Hell’s bells! She closed her eyes, held her breath, and prayed for a merciful God to just take her now.
Chapter 21
Katia’s gold head shone as a beacon of light. Lothair focused on her as he entered the murmuring hall, crowded with Tronscar’s citizens.
Relief that she was alive merged with anger. He could look at no one else, register no one else, only stare disoriented at his wife. Finding her, getting her back, had been his only focus. But that was where his plan ended.
