by Selena Scott
And before I could utter a word of protest, she was gone.
“What do you want?” a familiar voice growled seconds later.
It was Aaric, being led in by Ingrid.
“Ingrid!” I exclaimed. “What's gotten into you?”
She shushed me. “Everyone else is at the longhouse eating. This will just take a second.”
This dance had clearly gone to my friend’s head. She was abandoning all notions of decorum and carefulness. Hildre would be livid if he knew.
Aaric, meanwhile, was looking at me in that inappropriate, hungry way of his that made my whole body buzz all the way down to my toes.
His gaze slipped down to the dresses for an instant. “The black one.”
“But—” Ingrid started to protest.
His eyes returned to me, his voice rumbling with command. “Wear the black one.”
Despite my shock, I managed to reply, “No.”
Aaric didn’t move, his stance squared toward me. For a moment, I feared he would act on what I saw in his eyes: lunge for me, let his lips tear upon me and do what they would.
A cold shiver crawled down my spine.
Aaric turned on his heel and left.
For a few seconds, Ingrid and I stayed there, not saying a word. I felt ridiculous. Exposed. Enraged.
With Aaric, for trying to command me. With myself, for actually considering heeding him, for feeling like clay in his hands.
“Well,” Ingrid remarked, “that's an opinion.”
“I can't believe you brought him in here,” I grumbled.
Ingrid flopped on the mattress beside me with a sigh. “I'm sorry. I've been forgetting myself lately. With all that's happening, and Chuld...”
“Let's just concentrate on getting ready,” I said.
So, we got on our dresses, combed each other’s hair, and left—or tried to, rather.
Toke had entered our tent without so much as a cough of warning, and now stood blocking our exit and smirking at us ironically.
I took a step back. “What are you doing here?”
That smirk of his lingered much too long and was much too self-satisfied for my liking. “I came here as a favor.”
“I doubt that,” Ingrid said.
One of Toke’s eyelids spasmed. “You should know, people are talking about you and the newcomers.”
As fear wormed its way into me, I forced my voice into steadiness. “Go away, Toke. We do not need you or your petty gossip here.”
He laughed but didn't budge. “My gossip? It's all over the camp. Hildre is furious. I just came to warn you. That if anything else happens, your dear brother may do something rash. I, of course, as the lowly commander of his forces, have no sway over him—”
“Liar,” Ingrid spat, her hand raising in a slap. I caught it just in time.
“Don't,” I told her, my glare drilling into hers. It wasn't worth it.
Toke was full of cow dung, we knew. He had more sway over my brother than anyone, especially recently. Which meant that if we angered him…
“What do you want, Toke?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed as a sardonic grin crept over his face. He reached out a hand and stroked down my arm, a repulsed shiver following in its wake.
“Merely a favor from either of you two ladies would suffice,” Toke said. “I can be... useful when treated properly.”
My breath left me, my vision went red. I threw my arm back and slapped him full across the face.
“How dare you even insinuate that Ingrid and I should do such a vile thing as that?” I snapped. “Never, scum!”
Ingrid slapped him on the other cheek as we stalked past him. My heart was still hammering in my rib cage.
As soon as we were out of the tent and had taken refuge behind a nearby bush, a low sob escaped my mouth. “Ingrid, what have I done?”
“What we should have done when he first came in,” Ingrid said, her lips pressed together, firmly unrepentant. “The gall of that man.”
“But I directly disobeyed Hildre again. Under no circumstances was I to slap Toke.” I settled to the ground, dress be damned, in a heap. “I was supposed to be careful. I’d stopped you from slapping him, only to slap him myself!”
Ingrid’s nod was unwavering. “There was no way around it. And remember, I slapped him after you did too.”
I knew that I should have just walked out of there… but no, I'd let the Waterpaw temper get the best of me, and now I was going to have to pay the price. I could only hope it wouldn’t be the ultimate, berserker one.
“At least there's the dance,” Ingrid pointed out, tugging at my arm. “Come on, I can hear the music from here.”
“Oh, what's the point?” I moaned. “It's not like I'll be allowed to dance with anyone I actually want to.”
“Oh, so there is someone you want to?” Ingrid said, peering at me like a cat.
Aye, my best friend knew what I wanted, even when I wouldn't admit it to myself.
“I need to stay away from Aaric,” I confessed in a low voice. “But how?”
“Maybe he won't be there,” Ingrid said. “Dances don't... exactly seem like his scene.”
“You may have a point,” I allowed, although the thought was hardly reassuring. “And if I do dance with Bo and a few of the others, maybe Hildre's wrath will be....”
“Less vengeful?” Ingrid supplied, nodding eagerly. “It's possible.”
Possible, yes. Likely, no. The only way to fully appease Hildre would be to marry one of them, the sooner the better.
Ingrid held out her hand. “Come on. You're not going to sulk here in the bushes the whole time and make me go to the dance alone, are you?”
“No, I guess not.” I accepted her arm. “Plus, it will be amusing to see what dress Tora wears this time.”
Ingrid giggled. “You know she really does work hard on them. Finding all those twigs and ferns to attach to them.”
“I know,” I said. “And we really shouldn't make fun, but I'm pretty sure she's the one that is spreading those rumors. Wasn't she the one you saw last night?”
“Aye,” Ingrid said, as we neared the music and the glen. “Here we go.”
“Here we go,” I echoed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN – AARIC
Grise let out a loud, braying laugh as he looked Chuld and me over. “Are you trying to attract the ladies? Or terrify them?”
I glowered at my reflection. It was this damned puce holiday shirt. Hadn’t worn it in years, and it showed, was several sizes too small. Looked ready to explode off me at any moment.
If only my stupid younger brother wasn’t so certain that he was ‘in love’ and therefore had to go to this dance. Aye, with a love-struck idiot for one brother and vengeful idiot for the other, I should have my hands full tonight.
As far as clothing went now, Chuld had the opposite problem. In the past couple of years, he'd lost much of his baby fat, making his grey holiday shirt fall on him like an oversized robe.
At least his hair was as well tamed and shiny as our mother’s had been. While mine, on the other hand…
Chuld approached with a cheerful smile and a comb. “One of the older matrons lent it to me.”
Grise and I snorted in unison. That was Chuld for you. With his permanent baby face, he was always getting women, old and young, to take pity on him. Although that Ingrid wench did seem genuinely smitten.
“Hope you didn't tell her you'd return it.” Grise snickered. “Cause if you put that thing anywhere near Aaric's tangly chaos, you're never going to see it again.”
Chuld let out a little huff. “I figure, if we make ourselves look more presentable, then maybe the Waterpaws will be more open to us.”
Grise rubbed his chin in an expression of faux interest. “Which we care about because?”
Chuld shot him a glare. “Maybe because not all of us take pleasure in being permanently and universally despised. Barring that, the more they like you, the more they'll trust you... so, the easier
it will be to kill them?”
From the mattress he was sprawled on, Grise's head perked up. “Huh, works for me. Where's my dress shirt?”
“You bloodied it when beheading a groom at a duel, after bedding his wife at their wedding,” I growled.
As if I needed any more reminders of Grise's numerous impulsive and rash mistakes.
“Hmm,” Grise remarked. “Wondered where that went. Guess I'll just have to go as my good ol' self.”
“Don't.” Chuld looked genuinely concerned. “Please? I actually want to enjoy myself here.”
Now Grise sat up beanpole straight, wearing an affronted expression. “And you'll have a worse time if I come, is that it?”
I could feel a storm brewing.
“Everyone will,” I grumbled to Grise, “with you constantly trying to plot and scheme and figure out the best angle to chuck your knife into Hildre’s forehead.”
Grise settled back on the mattress, smirking grumpily. “Didn't know you were a mind reader, brother. But alright, I won't go if it will cause you two big boys such unspeakable fear.”
Smiling at us evilly, he continued, “Although I really do think you should try that comb on Aaric's hair...”
I backed away as Chuld advanced, comb at the ready.
“Don't,” I growled at him.
Combs and I didn't have a happy history. They always seemed to either tear hair off my scalp, or get torn themselves. Whatever my hair was made of was apparently stronger stuff than mere combs. It wasn't like I didn't bathe regularly, either. I just had my father's wild hair, was all.
“Okay,” Chuld said, then without warning, he leapt at me and raked his comb through my hair.
“Ow!” we both yelled at the same time.
Me, because the comb had torn out a good chunk of my hair before snapping in half itself, and Chuld, because in my unthinking rage, I'd punched him in the stomach.
As we both sank to the ground, Grise peered over the mattress at us, heeheeing.
“You two are really are entertaining,” he trilled. “If you keep that up, Chuld, you'll rip out all Aaric's hair, and then he'll look presentable. Kind of like the Muhgadreb.”
At the mention of the Muhgadreb, my glare cut to Grise. Now this was one element we hadn’t yet spoken of. “The seer. What do you know about him?”
“Nothing,” Grise said, “except that he is a bald child who looks like an eerie otter. I don't like it.”
Chuld sighed as he rubbed at his tender side. “If you're suggesting that we should kill a bald child, who is also a seer, I would say that is a bad plan.”
“He'd probably see it coming from a mile away,” I agreed.
“Then doesn't that mean that he's already seen what we're planning to do to the king too?” Grise pointed out. “Maybe we have to kill him to save our own skins, if anything.”
“He would have already said something if that was the case,” I stated, though I wasn’t at all sure.
Before Chuld could retort, I caught him by the arm and, heaving us both upright, pulled him out the door.
“But—” he began.
“Forget it,” I said, “unless you'd rather miss the dance? Because at this rate, we're bound to.”
Chuld frowned but nodded as we continued towards the music and the beckoning scents of plentiful wine and fresh meat. We brothers could argue for the whole day if it came down to it. We still hadn't outgrown that from when we were kids.
I reached up and gingerly extracted the part of the comb that was still caught in my hair.
“Maybe I can tell her a bear ate it?” Chuld said. He sighed, immediately seeing the stupidity of the suggestion.
“Just bank on the old matron forgetting,” I counseled him. “Women can be emptyheaded and forgetful, even in the best of times.”
A sneer rose up my face as I said it. I was talking out of my ass, and my brother and I knew it. My most beloved person in the world had been my mother, and then Sif, and they'd both had four times the brains I had. It was just Dahlia whose image I wanted to sully...
The more I learned about her, the more I saw her as more than just tempting curves and a fiery spirit that I wanted to bed. She was loyal, brave. And seemed genuinely kind, too, at least based on our campfire conversation and her shock at some of her father's worst atrocities.
I scratched at the spot where my hair had been ripped out of my head. Even though Dahlia was not only a physically tempting woman, but a mentally tempting one too, that made no difference.
Skarde and the Waterpaws had brutally killed many, and would brutally kill many more. They had to be stopped. That was the most important thing.
Now we had reached the glen, which was crowded with Waterpaws. Chuld craned his neck to spot his precious Ingrid's blonde head amidst the crowd. I only had eyes for a certain set of fine curves perfectly encased in—with luck—a black dress.
But there was no sign of them, only traditional dancing, the dancers touching only when changing positions, as well as musicians, some reed pipes, a lyre, and a harp working together to create a pleasant song.
Thankfully, there was a food table too, by which I stationed myself. I grabbed a cup of warm, sour milk and munched on a few nuts.
After another minute or so, the murmuring of voices grew louder, and I drew my attention to where everyone was straining to look. Entering on one side of the glen was the king, flanked by his cruel-faced commander, Toke, and a bunch of toadies. Entering on the other side were Dahlia and Ingrid, arms linked with nervous faces and...
My cock twitched. Damn the woman. Dahlia was wearing the black dress alright, and it was just as fire-inducing as I’d imagined. It squeezed her cleavage into a perfect line that begged to be touched.
Catching my eye, she averted her gaze, but she couldn’t hide the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. Aye, she didn’t like being happy to see me, but she was.
I didn’t waste any more time—I headed straight for Dahlia. Steps away, a wee shrimp of a woman came to block me.
“Dance with me,” she said in a sultry tone.
My gaze lowered to her dress. It was covered with the wildest things imaginable: branches, posies, all in a display that looked downright bizarre, if not uncomfortable.
Someone kicked at my shins. Chuld had apparently followed me. “To your left.”
On my left, the king was watching with favorable interest.
I met Chuld’s gaze in understanding. Whether the king had directly or indirectly been involved in this, one thing was certain. Turning down this woman would risk invoking his displeasure and that was something we couldn't afford.
I bowed my head in unwilling acquiescence, my eyes never leaving Dahlia as she watched us go. I would have my turn with her, and when I did...
“Liking it here so far?” the shrimp woman asked. “I'm Tora, by the way. You know, for Thor?”
I turned my face away. The woman had fine-sized teeth, but had breath as though she had eaten nothing but salmon for the entirety of her existence. This arrangement was already chafing me.
She stepped on my foot, throwing her bony, frail chest into mine. It felt like a block of stone smacking into me. I repressed a shudder.
How much longer was I going to have to endure this?
Tora seemed unaware that I hadn't answered any of her questions, was too engaged with grasping my hand tightly, the only dancing partner doing so.
I didn't let my glare settle on what it was itching to. The king.
And to think, I could crush his flabby skull with my own bare hands if only given the chance...
Tora stepped on my foot again. I muttered a curse under my breath, while she covered her hand with her mouth and giggled daintily.
Glancing to Dahlia, I found she now had a companion. A man with a mighty, tangled beard and arms too big for his little frame was striding up to her with his chest puffed out.
Huh. Still, she wasn't going to...
My teeth ground together as she accepted
his proffered hand.
A glance over at Hildre found his fleshy face stretched into a self-satisfied smile. Aye, a matchmaking attempt. Judging by the tangled-bearded man’s proud stance and rich clothing, he was likely noble.
Pain jabbed through me as Tora’s foot slammed on mine again.
That was it.
I ripped myself free, then stormed over to the only place I should have been this entire time. I tapped Dahlia on the shoulder and, when she turned her surprised face to me, said, “Dance with me.”
I could see it in her eyes. That she saw it wasn't a question.
The whole dance area had gone silent.
CHAPTER TWELVE – DAHLIA
My heart was fluttering in my chest, as if in anticipation itself of what my answer would be.
Even Bo had stopped dancing.
For Thor's sake. Dare I answer Aaric? Dare I be truthful?
One look at his blazing eyes and I knew.
“Aye,” I said, pulling away from Bo and accepting Aaric's hand.
The last thing I could make out several paces away, before I swept into Aaric's arms, was Hildre's furious face. It was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. Everything had left, leaving only Aaric and me, us.
Those arms of his and the pine scent of him wrapped around me, while his burning gaze kept sneaking to my lips.
As we danced, the heat between my legs swelled further and further out, rolling in waves up my legs and torso.
Far off, part of me registered that there was music somewhere, and people disapproving of us not dancing in the traditional way the others were.
Someone grabbed my arm.
It was Ingrid, her eyes terrified saucers. “It's Hildre.”
Although when I craned around, I saw only dozens of staring people, as well as, most damning of all, a sneering Toke.
Odin, help me! What had I done?
“Where is he?” I asked Ingrid. “Where is my brother?”
“He left,” Ingrid said, “when he saw you and Aaric...” She just shook her head, grabbing me again. “We should go. You should try and talk to him—reason with him.”
Her hopeful tone didn’t reach her eyes. Everyone knew that when Hildre got in one of his rages, there was no reasoning with him.