“What? I don’t know,” she giggles. “It doesn’t matter. I just want a healthy baby.”
“I want a daughter that looks just like you. Then I think of boys… Actually, no girls, just boys. I don’t want to be responsible for so many deaths.”
She slaps my arm, scolding me from my implications. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do. You know how many men I fought to stay away from you when we were teenagers? Remember Haldrid Lankins? Bastard.”
“Oh, yes! He was so handsome, and when he brought me a basket of fresh fruit, I nearly fell into his manly arms.”
I can tell she is exaggerating. Plus, his arms weren’t that manly. I flip her over until she is under me again and start tickling her.
“I’m the only handsome man in your life.” I tickle her under her armpits, and squeals of musical laughter fills the room. “Say it.”
She gasps for breath as her laughter slows, and her facial expressions grow more serious. “You have always been and will always be the only one.”
The words make my semi-hard cock rise to full mast again. Not ever having to take my cock from her pussy, I start a hard rut, pushing down into her. It isn’t long before exhaustion overtakes us both. I can barely keep my eyes open, and this time my reality matches my dreams. A man like me could never expect to be gifted a second chance at living a good life. I always thought I’d be around carnage and despair. Blood and death.
Her heart beating against my hand tells me my life has taken a turn for the better. Her body shivers. I want to keep it better; I must be the man she deserves. Placing a kiss on her shoulder, I hold back a groan as I pull out of her. There isn’t a better and worse feeling. I miss her heat, but the sensation of pulling out of the tight space is mind-blowing. I stand and stare down at the beauty that is my destiny. Goddess, I’m a lucky man.
I grab a few logs and toss them into the pit to make a fire, the eerie glow from the flame dances upon her skin. Mmm, she is my angel, dancing in the blaze of my heart.
With a content exhale, I climb in beside her and pull the covers over us, keeping the freeze at bay. With her skin against mine and her scent wrapped around me, for the first time in many restless years, I’m happy.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Beowulf
“What do you mean Lady Thyra is missing?” I roar at Jericho. The damn man had been fiddling with that catapult again and took his eyes off the castle. Erik is still playing sick, and because no one takes their fucking positions seriously, Lady Thyra took the opportunity to apparently try and find her father on her own.
At least, that is the conclusion I am jumping to. The fury under my skin can hardly be contained. I lower my voice to an angry whisper and unsheathe my blade, pressing it against Jericho’s throat. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now for losing the Warlord’s wife.”
Jericho remains silent.
“Tell me!” I roar, pressing the blade harder into the flesh of his neck. A dribble of blood flows out, dripping down the silver blade. Jericho doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. The man is truly frightening when it comes to pain tolerance.
“I don’t have a good reason for you not to kill me. All I can say is, I offer to try and find her and bring her back. If I fail, in return, you take my life.”
“I might not have to when Warlord finds out. You do know he will find out? And what then? Don’t be surprised if he kills you on the spot. That is the mother of his children.”
“I know that!” he spits, his dark black eyes flickering with self-hatred. “And her father is missing? I looked away for one second, Sir Wulf. One second. That’s all. Erik should be held accountable as well. He is still trying to get Leiva to eat out of the palm of his hands instead of watching the door like he is supposed to.”
With a tired sigh, I sheath my sword and nod. “I know. He shall get what is coming to him too. For now, we must notify Warlord.”
A loud crash from inside the castle has me and Jericho snapping our heads to the left. A chair flies out the window and shards of glass rain through the air, clattering to the ground in a heavy pile. A war cry pierces through the air, and I swear, it shakes the foundation of the entire country.
I look back at Jericho to see his face white as snow and his throat bobbing with… dare I say, actual fear. Hell, I would be too if I lost the Warlord’s wife. And to be the one held responsible? Goddess, the wrath Warlord Einarr shall bring down on this kingdom will be worse than any battle we have ever faced.
“Oh, shite,” Jericho trembles. An actual full-body tremble.
Shite is right. Warlord bursts out of the doors of the castle with fury written all over his face. He scans the yard, and when he sees Jericho, the scar on his face pulls tight from the snarl on his lip. His eyes are intense, riddled with the promise of death. Warlord grabs his axe that he straps to his back and sprints toward us.
“Stop!” Lord Grimkael orders, yelling after his best friend, but Einarr keeps charging. There is no way anything can stop him, not even commands from our leader.
Einarr’s beard is decorated with iron beads. The braided strands sway in the breeze, and his eyes are cold and lifeless. His hand moves so quick; I barely have time to jump back when he grabs Jericho by his hair and pulls him along the yard.
Jericho is kicking, his hand grabbing at the ends of his hair to keep Warlord from ripping it from his scalp.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.” He tosses Jericho on the ground and lifts his axe through the air. “You lost her. You had one job. One!”
I shut my eyes when Einarr brings the axe down, but the sickening sound of flesh being cut never comes. When I open my eyes, I see Lord Grimkael fighting Warlord Einarr. Their arms shake from power colliding with power.
“Stop this,” Lord Grimkael hisses, lowering the weapon from Einarr’s grasp. It takes much effort on Lord Grimkael’s end, but finally, he wrenches the axe away from the Warlord’s hold. “You can’t kill someone without asking them what happened.”
“I know what happened. He took his eyes off the castle long enough for my heartbroken, stubborn, headstrong, maddening woman to climb out the window and disappear to go find her father.”
Einarr’s large frame swells when he stands to his full height and takes a step toward Jericho—who somehow managed to get back to his feet. Jericho is one of the biggest men I’ve ever seen, and the Warlord just laid him out flat. “If she isn’t back within three days, I shall kill you. Do I make myself clear?”
Jericho hangs his head with defeat and remorse. “Aye. I understand, Warlord. I already told Sir Wulf that if I do not find her, I sacrifice my life.”
“Sacrificing won’t be needed because I’ll just take it,” he spits. His monstrous palms push Lord Grimkael. “Get the fuck out of my way.”
My eyebrows rise to my hairline. No one ever talks to the Lord that way, not without getting their tongue cut out, but Warlord and Lord Grimkael are best friends. I’m sure that is the only reason why Einarr is still breathing.
Lord Grimkael takes three strides toward me and points at Jericho. “You have two days to bring her home, and then we go to war with the Jackals.”
“Wait, has Alaric woken?” I ask. Lilith will want to know so she can see him. She hasn’t been to the medical corridor since I practically dragged her out of there.
“Aye, this morning. He is sketching us a map now. I’m counting on you, Trident, and Jericho to bring Lady Thyra home. Do you understand that? I don’t want her to get caught up in the war, Wulf. The things that can happen—”
“Yes, my Lord. I understand. I’ll begin looking for her now.” Lilith is not going to be happy about this.
Being on the brink of war with the Jackals and having two of our own missing at the same time makes for a rough situation. The Jackals could have them, or worse, they could be planning to use them against us. I know Warlord would gladly give up this entire kingdom if it meant getting Lady Thyra back. It’s a scary thought, but I know I w
ould do the same if someone took Lilith.
I’d sacrifice every single life here if it meant Lilith would be safe and in my arms again. I know how it sounds. Even when I think it, it’s barbaric, but I’d do it. All those lives are nothing compared to hers.
“Jericho, come on. We have a long journey ahead.”
“Journey? My life is about to be cut short.”
I want to say if he were paying attention to what he needed to be doing, this wouldn’t have happened. Instead, he was playing with the damn catapult to see if he could change the launching distance on it. The man loves shit like that, but right now, his passion blurred his duties. And now he must pay for it.
We run to the stables and get our horses ready. The snow has decided to come down in heavy sheets, and we don’t have much time before mother nature traps us here. “I must go tell Lilith where I’m going.”
“We don’t have time for that shit, Wulf. We need to go. My fucking life depends on it.”
“Well, you should have thought about that before you decided to not care about the kingdom.”
“How was I supposed to know she would leave? She has never done that before,” he argues.
“Her father has never gone missing for so long either,” I point out. I have a half a second to decide what I want to do. If I turn left, I go to Lilith. If I turn right, the cold journey begins to try and find Lady Thyra. It will be hard, considering the tracks will be covered by the snow. In all honesty, I have no idea which direction to go in.
“Shite, there he goes,” Jericho’s jaw clenches as Warlord Einarr dashes in the forest on his horse Jasmine. His cape of fur blows in the wind behind him, and soon he disappears into a veil of white.
“We should go the other way. If we don’t find her before he does, both of us may be dead.” I’m not sure how I got roped into this situation, but all I can do is ride it out now and do what I do best. I’m a warrior first. It’s literally in my blood. If anyone can find Lord Troy and Lady Thyra, it’s me.
My heart convulses as we ride away from the castle. Lilith will be worried sick, but I know someone will tell her what’s going on. Not only will she be concerned for me, but she will be worried about everyone else in the situation. I love that about her. She is full of compassion. It’s just one of a hundred reasons why she is going to make an amazing mother.
Trident meets up with us a few minutes later, and now we are miles away from the castle, in the middle of a blizzard. All I can think about is if Lady Thyra is trapped in this, there is a good chance she has already frozen to death.
“Don’t think like that,” Trident tells me. “We can’t think like that.”
“I’m not thinking like anything.”
“I see it on your face,” Jericho finishes what Trident is assuming. “I know because I’m thinking it too. Goddess, if I die, pour mead over my grave every day. It’s all I ask.”
“Don’t be surprised if you don’t get buried once Warlord is done with you. Just what the fuck were you thinking, Jericho?”
“I looked away for one bloody second. One!”
“One is all it takes,” Trident snarls.
I do my best to ignore the arguing between the two. I’m in the middle. Literally. Their horses are on either side of me. My right side has Trident’s grousing ringing loud like the south wall horn. On the left of me, Jericho is snarling, cursing Trident under his breath. It’s going to be a long few days if this keeps up. Trident and Jericho have never gotten along. Add Jericho’s fuck up to their already strained relationship, and I wager Trident wouldn’t be terribly upset if Jericho somehow froze to death out here.
Harsh, but it’s reality.
I try and tune them out and imagine Lilith, naked on the bed of furs at home, grabbing her swollen breasts that are filling with milk for our child. She’d beckon me to come close, crooking her finger in the air to seduce me—as if I’d need seducing. She only needs to breathe, and I’m hard as a rock for her.
They are still bantering, but it’s just background noise right now. My eyes are up ahead, double checking the trail for any sign of tracks or broken limbs, but so far nothing. The snow is coming down harder, gathering on my lashes and making it difficult to blink. I wipe the cold flakes out of my face and grab the end of the fur attached to my back to drape it over my head.
That’s better. I can see now without frozen water getting in my eyes. Up ahead, I notice something blowing in the cold, bitter breeze. It seems to have been there a while, for the material seems frozen and the dark color of the cloak is covered with white.
“Men.” I try and interrupt the arguing, but somehow, they still manage to fucking argue. Since I’m not listening, I don’t have any clue what it can still be about. I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. I wish one of them could have been left behind for this.
If they keep going at it, the entire damn country will know what is going on, and then we may get taken by the Jackals.
“Shut the fuck up and look!” I point to the cloak that is swinging on the branch.
“Goddess, please do not tell me that is Lady Thyra’s. I’ll be sick.” Jericho covers his mouth with his fist, shoving down the apparent gag in his throat. “I’ll die an awful death. Goddess, I didn’t even get to try launching a Jericho ball.”
I take the back of my hand and give him a good whack on the head. “Are you kidding me? A Jericho ball? Lady Thyra is missing, and all you can think about is that foolish catapult.”
“It’s a new weapon I’ve made. It would help win the battle if a war ever started at the castle. I’m concerned with Lady Thyra; I am, I just—”
“—Shut up.” I’m tired of hearing him speak.
He mumbles something under his breath, but I don’t bother trying to understand what it is. I dip my head below a branch and grab the cloak in hand. There’s no blood on it, no tears, no sign of struggle. It can be a trap. This could be a set up. I glance around, trying to see if I can see anything through the dead branches and piles of snow, but it’s quiet.
Almost too quiet. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Silence is never good. No one else is here. We aren’t surrounded. So there is no threat of attack. Why is Lady Thyra’s cloak all the way out here? I sigh and lay it across Dire’s neck. “Let’s go a bit further, and then we shall call it a night.”
Dire takes one step forward, and suddenly his hooves hit something hallow. A loud clunk echoes off the empty trees in the barren woods. I lean to the side and tilt my head down to see what we could be walking on that can cause such a noise, but I don’t see anything. It’s merely layers of snow, not even the disruption of hooves in the gorgeous white lets me see the ground.
“Something is under here,” I call to the others. I swing my leg over Dire and drop to the ground. I test out whatever we are standing on and jump, but whatever it is doesn’t give. I get on my knees and brush away the eight inches of snow and see wood. Not dirt or a trail, but wood. “Goddess, what has Lady Thyra done? Get down here, the both of you! Set shelter for the horses. Something is here.”
“It’s probably an old piece of wood,” Jericho offer.
“Right. We will listen to you, the fool with an attention span of a field mouse,” Trident whips back and starts to brush off the snow.
“I should kill you,” Jericho places a hand on his sword, and Trident tosses his head back.
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Would you both shut the hell up and help me? You’re a bickering married couple. It’s annoying. If you are going to be like this, go back to the castle and tell Lord Grimkael you couldn’t get your head out of your arse because of your inability to act like men.”
I dust off the snow furiously, wishing both of them would go away, and then I can find Lady Thyra. I’m the only one with my head on straight anyway. “Annoying whiney little brats is what you are, the both of you,” I grumble. My hand hits something solid. Metal of some sort.
All of us stop speaking. We stop
breathing. Lady Thyra had found something in her journey. She had found a trapped door and left her cloak to help us find it. Oh, the woman is brilliant.
“Where do you think it leads?” Trident asks.
I wrap my hand around the small handle and tug. It opens, and the iron hinges squeal from not being used enough. Stairs disappear into darkness, and my body fills with fear and nervousness. Like I am walking into danger. I haven’t been this excited in so long.
“One way to find out.”
I give Trident a knowing grin and take the first step into unknown territory.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lilith
It’s been years since Beowulf has left me to go search for Lady Thyra.
Well, it has not been years, just a day and a half, but it has felt like years. Rian is playing in the snow, making a snowman with another child in the kingdom. It’s a relief. It’s been the first time since he has been here that he hasn’t cried or slept all day. I think it was his way of mourning and wrapping his four-year-old brain around the horrible truth that his parents are not coming back.
I sip on my tea, smiling around the rim of my mug as Rian’s giggles travel through the air. He is on the ground now, making something resembling an angel.
Lady Sassa sits next to me on the bench, dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep she has been getting. The disappearance of her friend has stressed her out. Lady Sassa isn’t her bright, smiling self. I must say, I miss it.
“How are you faring, Lady Sassa?” I ask, taking her hand in mine.
Her right hand drops on mine. I don’t miss the slight shake of her bottom lip. She stares at the children playing, trying to find some sort of happiness, but it doesn’t seem to work. Tears fall, pounding against her cheeks like a thunderstorm letting go of rain.
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