The Viking's Wedding

by Jessica Knight

  “That’s very kind of you.” I reach for the succulent fruit. Our fingers touch, and that familiar spark I felt before when I pressed my lips against her cheek has me dropping the apple onto the ground.

  Thyra and I look down at the same time. The apple is just sitting there, parting thick blades of grass as if it has always been there. We bend over at the same time, and our heads knock together. She yelps, and I fall onto my arse, rubbing my forehead where we met.

  “I’m so sorry, Lady Thyra. I didn’t know—”

  She giggles, and it is the sweetest sound in the world. “It’s fine. Honest mistake. Here, take a few more. It looks like you all shall need them with training.” Thyra wipes the sweat off her brow, and my tongue flicks out, wishing I could taste it. I bet her sweat is sweet, just like the rest of her.

  “Thank you, Lady Thyra.”

  “You’re welcome, Warlord.” The way she says my title makes my cock hard. I can’t look away from her. A growl is building in my chest, and my eyes catch the way her breathing speeds up and pushes her breasts against the tight material of her gown

  She is perfect.

  “Thyra!”

  I sigh with aggravation. I know that voice. It is the voice of her father, who hates me.

  “I must go, goodbye, Einarr,” she whispers the slip of my name, but not before throwing a few more apples on the ground for us and running back up the hill.

  Abram whistles as he comes to a stop in front of me again. He is breathing hard, sweating profusely, and gasping for air.

  “If you didn’t feel that between the two of you, you are impossible because the current was strong. When are you going to court her?”

  “Shut up, boy,” I growl, snatching the apple off the ground and taking a bite of it. The flavor of the apple bursts across my tongue. It’s crisp and juicy, settling some of my hunger.

  “What? Big, bad, Einarr shy around Lady Thyra?” Abram mocks, making kissing noises.

  Typical teenager.

  I’ve half a mind to challenge him here and now. Unfair? Of course.

  I toss the apple in the air and catch it with my hand before launching it at Abram. “At least big, bad Einarr can hold a sword.”

  The apple hits Abram in the middle of the stomach, causing him to double over, groaning in pain.

  “And if an apple hurts you, we need to work on your core too. We need to get those abs strong. You’ll get there.”

  “I think I’m dying,” Abram moans, flopping over onto the grass.

  The drama. I roll my eyes and start walking back to the castle. I need to start working on my house again. “Come on. My house isn’t going to build itself. It’s a good way to build muscle.”

  “More? I can’t. We’ve been going all day.”

  “We shall be going all night too. Stop the whining. It won’t help.” I smirk when I hear him behind me, crunching on an apple.

  I have a few apples in my pocket, and I bet they will be the sweetest ones I’ve ever tasted. Since these ones are from Thyra.

  Chapter Nine

  Thyra

  “You shall not speak to him again! Do you understand me?” my father shouts until he is red in the face. The vein in his forehead bulges, and if I really look, I can see it pulse from the anger possessing him.

  Too bad.

  “I am a grown woman, Father. I can choose who my friends are!”

  “He wants to be more than friends. I see how that Scotty looks at you. He wants to get under your dress. And you shall not let him!”

  “Don’t you dare call him that, Father! Einarr is a good man. A noble warrior. He is a Viking. You have no room to speak that way. You are nowhere near Viking, so why are you even mad?”

  “I’d rather have a Viking talk to my daughter than a Scotty! They aren’t noble.”

  “He has been more noble than you have been! You’ve been nothing but an arsehole to the entire lot of them except Lord Grimkael, and that is only because you have to.”

  “You dare talk to me like that.” He takes a step forward and points his finger in my face. “You better watch your tongue.”

  “Or what? You’ll cut it out?” I spit. It shocks me that my father is capable of holding such hatred in his heart. It kills me. I hate fighting with him. He is my best friend. My one person I can always count on, but recently, he has been anything but reasonable. It makes me feel as though we are too different now.

  “Thyra. I would never harm you in such a way.”

  “But you are harming me. You’re hurting me by keeping me away from Einarr. You’re hurting me by forbidding me to see him.”

  “I forbid you because I know what is best for you, Thyra. And that monster, that killer out there, isn’t good enough for my daughter. He will never be good enough for you. I will never bless that union. You have plenty of options coming to your party. Plenty. Choose from them.”

  “As if you’ve never killed for your Lord before. Don’t stand there in front of me and act so superior. He fought for his land, his Lord, and his people.”

  “His people are Scotties! Foul brutes! Just like the Jackals who took your mother. I’ll never like them. Ever!” he shouts.

  “You act as if they are all bad. Einarr is good, strong, and smart. He is brave. He isn’t the one that took Mother. Why are you blaming him?”

  “Because he may hurt you. It’s in his blood. That is the end of this conversation. Do you hear me? You are not to go near Einarr again.”

  I cross my arms and huff, turning my gaze toward the window.

  “Do I make myself clear?”

  “As crystal,” I mutter.

  The door slams, making me jump. But the click of a key turning a lock in place makes me bolt out of bed. I run to the door and pull on the handle.

  It’s locked.

  He locked me in my own room! We never use that lock! Only the one he installed on this side of my door. I bang on the wood with my fists and shout, “Open the door. Father! You can’t keep me in here.”

  “I can if it is for your own good,” he says, before walking away.

  I jiggle the handle again. “Father. Father? Don’t leave me in here.”

  I pull as hard as I can, but the door doesn’t budge.

  Tears prickle my eyes as I sit on the bed and fight the urge to cry. I’m so mad at him. I’m mad because I know he is wrong. This isn’t me being a little girl; this is me being a fully capable grown adult and making decisions on my own. He refuses my happiness due to his fear and hatred, but all I feel are hope and excitement when I think of Einarr.

  Or I did before Father took it away.

  I lay down on the bed and roll over, putting my cheek against the pillow. The first tear breaks free, and suddenly, a waterfall of emotions are landing on my pillow. My vision blurs. It’s so unfair. I should be able to find love with who I want.

  A knock sounds at the door.

  “Go away,” I mumble, thinking it is my father.

  “Thyra? It’s me, Sassa. Why can’t I open your door?”

  I sniffle and make myself stand up. When I walk over to the door, tears are still falling. “Father has the key. He locked it.”

  I hear her gasp. “Goddess, why? What happened?”

  “We got into an argument about Einarr.”

  A few seconds of silence pass.

  “I see. What did he say about Einarr?”

  “He says Einarr is a bad man. A man that I cannot be seen with. He has forbidden me to even be his friend. He locked me in here, well, I’m not really sure why he locked me in. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

  “Are you alright?” she asks.

  “I don’t know.” I lean my back against the door and slide down it.

  She must do the same because I hear the slight scratch on the other side of the door.

  I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hands and sigh, “I don’t know what to do, Sassa. Men are never interested in me, ever. Maybe my father is right. Perhaps, I’m just blinded by how new the
feeling is, and I feel like I have to jump on it. If I take a step back, maybe I can see where my father is coming from.” I don’t believe a word that just came out of my mouth, but those are my thoughts at the moment.

  “You can’t be serious, Thyra! That feeling you get, the one that twists your stomach, that’s the feeling you’re supposed to get with a man. That’s the feeling that sends you running into love. You must follow it. Einarr is a good man. Sure, he is rough, but he is a sweetheart. A gentle giant, if you will. He only needs to be a beast when he must. Isn’t that what matters?” Sassa asks.

  Of course, that is all that matters. I know that. I feel that. There is something special about Einarr. Something that sets not just my mind and body on fire, but my soul too.

  “I know,” I reply. “You’re right. I don’t know what to do, Sassa.”

  “Well, first thing first.” The knob of the door jiggles. I scramble to my feet, and the door creaks open. Sassa peeks her head in with a big smile, but it fades when she sees my red, swollen eyes.

  “Oh, Thyra. Come here.” She rushes in as fast as she can with her pregnant belly and wraps her arms around me. “It’s alright.”

  “It isn’t, though,” I cry onto her shoulder. “I can’t believe Father would be so cruel.”

  She leans back, breaking the hug. “Do you think that this is just as hard for him?”

  “What do you mean? That’s no excuse.”

  “I know, but people do things and say things they don’t mean when they are upset or feeling some sort of way. He has those feelings about your mother, and that can’t be easy to get over, and now his little girl is all grown up, wanting someone other than him. You say he is your world, but you are his too, Thyra. Letting you go, that will be impossible for him. Einarr is a threat.”

  “But the party—”

  She sits down on my bed, rubbing her hand on her stomach. “You won’t like a soul from that party, and he knows it. Einarr is the one threatening change, not those other men. Plus, you don’t seem like the type of woman that will want a man that doesn’t know how to get his hands dirty.”

  “Einarr’s hand are so filthy.” The lust spews within my voice. I slap my hand over my mouth, and Sassa starts laughing.

  I can’t help but follow.

  “He always has his eyes on you,” she remarks as she smiles, puts her hands on the bed, and pushes herself up.

  I run to her, balancing her body before the weight of her belly makes her topple over. “Thank you. This little one can’t come soon enough. Everything always aches. My feet, my back, and my hips. Oh, my hips always hurt. I swear my little one’s head is resting on the bone.”

  “Oh, but how wonderful will it be to have a child in the castle?” I bounce with excitement.

  “Says you. I’m dreading the birth.”

  My eyes soften as I stare at her. Her mother died giving birth to her, so it only makes sense for her to be nervous. “Everything shall be fine. Really. What happened to your mother—”

  “I don’t want to talk about her, Thyra.”

  “Aye.” I nod, squeezing her hands gently. “I’m here for you if you ever want to talk. Thank you for rescuing me from my room. I suppose I should go find Father.”

  “I think that is a great idea. Oh!” Sassa yelps and falls back down on the bed.

  “What is it? Is it the baby?”

  “No, it’s fine. The little bugger kicked me really hard. Feel.” She grabs my hands and lays them on her stomach.

  “I don’t feel anything,” I say.

  “Shh, give it a minute.”

  I wait. And wait. I will not lie and say I am not disappointed, because I am. I wanted to feel the wee one’s little feet kicking me. I try and pry my hand out of Sassa’s, but she keeps me there. “Sassa—”

  Kick.

  “Oh my goddess!” I shout and jump on the bed next to her. The baby kicks again and again, and soon enough, it’s kicking up a storm.

  A smile graces my lips. “How does it feel?”

  Sassa leans up on her elbows. “Odd. It’s amazing, but sometimes he will get me right in the ribs, and it makes me curse.”

  “You think it’s a boy?”

  She blushes and shrugs a shoulder. “I think so. I don’t know how to explain it. I just know.”

  “I bet Grim is so excited.”

  “He really is. Now, enough of me.” She stands on wobbly legs again. “Let’s go find that father of yours. I shall give him a piece of my mind.”

  “That isn’t needed.” I follow her out the door and take a left toward the staircase.

  “Of course it is. It means your father stole a key or had the blacksmith make him a copy. Grim will feel betrayed.”

  “How do you think I feel? My own father,” I mumble. “I don’t want him in trouble. He was only protecting me in his own way. Even if it was the wrong way.”

  “He has to pay for his theft, Thyra. Father or not.”

  I gasp and reach out to grab her arm. “You can’t be serious. Sassa, this is the same man that let you sleep over so many nights with me. He has fed you. Clothed you.”

  “I’m not that little girl anymore, Thyra. I’m the Queen of the entire kingdom. I can’t be weak, or everyone will think they can get away with stealing. Also,” she continues as she leans forward while someone walks by, “I only had to say that out loud for show. I’ll deduct his pay. One time. But nothing lethal. I’m not unreasonable. Just pregnant.”

  I exhale a breath, relieved my father won’t be in the dungeons, starved, or whipped. I know if it were up to Grim, he may do worse, considering how my father treats Einarr. Luckily, Sassa holds all the power here, and good thing she met Grim, or the kingdom wouldn’t have taken her position seriously.

  Women leading without a man by their side? Preposterous.

  When we get down the steps, the front door is wide open and Grim is outside, talking to Abram, the young boy so fond of Einarr. I think it is quite sweet how much the young boy fancies the bigger man.

  As I look around, I don’t see my father.

  “Lord Grimkael? Have you seen my father?”

  “Aye, he took off on his horse just now.”

  Panic swoops into my body. “Where is Einarr?”

  Grim’s eyes narrow when he realizes where I am going with my line of questions. “On patrol. Even though I’ve asked him not to. Shite!” Grim throws down the fruit in his hand and unties Beast from the post, hopping on the beast’s back, quick and effortless.

  “I want to come with you!” I shout.

  “Guards, hold Lady Thyra back.”

  “Lord!” I argue.

  “I don’t know what I will see. For your safety, you’re better off here. And if I find my brother injured, it’s your father’s head I’m taking.” Grim kicks Beast on the side and the big steed rushes down the dirt path.

  I am left flabbergasted as Beast sprints down the road, and nothing but dust covers my view. All I can do is hope my father won’t be an imbecile.

  Chapter Ten

  Einarr

  I cannot stop thinking about how close I was to her lips the other day as I ride along the territory boundary. Every time I seem to be near her, I’m naked. The thought makes a wicked grin spread over my face. Aye, something is between me and the Lady Thyra, but it seems we have our obstacles to overcome if we ever want to try to be together.

  The biggest—her father.

  I sigh from how stressful it has been. When I look over the cliff, at the sun setting below the trees, the tranquil sight takes some of the bitterness I feel away. It’s quite beautiful. Colors blend together forming a picture that is worth watching the sun set every night. It is hard to believe it is this cliff that almost killed Grim.

  Well, those Jackals almost killed him. It is because of them that he fell over the cliff in the first place. Watching my brother fall, staring in my eyes, silently telling me that he knew this was his death, is a moment seared into my mind. I can never forget it. It haunts
me every day.

  My hands tightened on the reins when I ran to the cliff to try to see if I could see him, but I couldn’t. He and the Jackal disappeared into the mouth of the valley. Death would have been the only answer, but the stubborn arsehole survived. And I’ve never been happier to see his face. He had been bloody, injured, and on the brink of death, but still, he lived.

  This cliff. It is so beautiful. It just goes to show that even the most precious, gorgeous things, can be just as deadly as the things that are evil and ugly.

  Hooves pounding against the ground makes me turn on the saddle, the leather squeaking from the armor rubbing against it. Damn, I thought I had gotten away from them. The brutes.

  “You leave without us? Are ye mad?” Trident calls to me, bouncing a little as his horse, Hank—I do not know why he named his horse that—comes to a stop.

  “I just wanted some time to meself. I do not always need you at my side,” I mumble under my breath like a child does when they are in trouble.

  “Warlord, you cannot go off like that. The Jackals could still be out there.”

  “Wulf, they have been quiet for a long time. Ever since Grim killed Krane.”

  “Those weren’t the Jackals. That was the man who dissembled them. Now that Krane is gone, who knows what is being planned? We must be vigilant,” Wulf’s baritone voice deepens.

  I know they are right. The Jackals have been quiet for some time now. They must be planning something. And only time will tell what it is.

  Wulf creeps closer to the edge of the cliff, his horse just as fearless as he is. “I want to kill them. I want to rip them apart with these hands.” He turns his hands palms up. “They took many things from me. I will no longer allow them to take from others.”

  This is the first I’ve heard of this vendetta. “What did they take from you?”

  “Everything,” he whispers, staring out into the forest.

  “We will pay them back for what they did, for what they still do, and what they will continue to do. We must stop them. We are the only army in the land mighty enough to fight against such rebellion,” says Tristan.