Malice Striker

by Jianne Carlo

  He sighed, for she had the guarded expression of earlier, spine in a severe straight line, lips pressed together, and once more, she avoided his gaze. “Wish you a slice of cheese, apple, bread? Tell me what you desire, wife mine.”

  “Apple, my lord.”

  He cut a thin morsel and fed it to her. “’Tis said you are the product of the union of the jötunn goddess Skaði and King Kenneth. True or false?”

  Chapter Four

  She stiffened and her nostrils flared. “True or false, my lord? I know not. I know only ’tis what has been said of me over and over. Yet the king has ne’er claimed me before the court or any audience, and I have never met the woman who birthed me. Lady Gráinne has been my only guide since I can remember.”

  “Yet, when I asked who was Kenneth’s daughter you came forward.”

  Gritting her teeth, she sought to explain what she meant. “All say I am his daughter, but I have yet to meet him or be claimed by him.”

  “You have ne’er been to court?”

  “Nay.”

  “Were you not ordered to Sumbarten by the king of the Scots?”

  “’Tis not unusual for the king to send his wards for training.” The bite of temper clipped her words and heat warmed her cheeks. All her life the gossips had claimed her a goddess and a sorcerer, yet she lived as but a simple, blind female with not a magikal hair on her head. “I am one of many females sent by him to the abbey.”

  “’Tis said your goddess pleasure increases a warrior’s strength and wisdom tenfold.” His voice held a twinge of amusement and her ire surged. The scoundrel had pleasured her for his own gain. She was sore tempted to pummel him with her fists, scream at him until her throat was raw, or brew and feed him the emetic tea used by the abbey to treat those suspected of poisoning.

  “I have no magikal powers, sir. You will have gained naught by bringing me to pleasure this eve—”

  He cupped a hand over her mouth. “Stay your wrath. I gained all by pleasuring you. Ne’er have I known the ecstasy I found with you this eve, Skatha. Goddess or no, you took me to Valhalla, wife.”

  Valhalla, the Viking’s version of heaven. Skatha bit the insides of her cheeks so hard she tasted blood. “’Tis the purpose for which you stole me from all that I have known? To increase your strength and wisdom? For what reason? To wage war on an enemy? To raid and pillage Scottish—”

  He stopped her words with a kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, and she cuffed him again and again, until he teased the roof. A delicious shiver of fire and ice washed her from head to toe. He gentled his invasion, and her rage fizzled under the sweetness of his caresses. His fingers slipped under the furs, and he rubbed his thumb over her nipple. A low purr rumbled up her throat.

  She kneaded his shoulders.

  He groaned and lifted his lips from hers. “I naysay you, wife. Your tongue is pure sorcery. By ThMrr’s hammer, you purr your pleasure. ’Tis not akin to any kiss I have ever experienced.”

  “You confuse me, sir.” In more ways than she could name, his touch inflamed her, and his tongue disarmed the defenses she’d built over the unseeing years.

  “You dismay me, wife. I have gone from your voice husky with desire, moaning my given name, to your abbess-prim sir. I knew you would have the temper to go with your passion, but ’twill serve me well to put a table or bed ’tween us should I see the tips of your ears turn rosy as they did a moment afore.”

  Heat flushed her entire body, and she clenched her hands into fists to halt the need to touch an ear. None at Sumbarten had ever spoken of her ears showing her ire. What other signs did she show unknownst to her?

  “I stole you to ransom for my sister, Hjørdis, who was taken by King Kenneth’s cousin, Baron Loudon, in midsummer.”

  What news this? She shook her head. More confused and determined than a swarm of fleas attempting to cling to the last strand of fur on a mangy dog, she tried to sort truth from lie. “I understand you not, my lord. I am not of value as a hostage.”

  “I intercepted a missive from King Kenneth which says otherwise. He ordered Hjørdis taken to Sumbarten to be trained alongside you. Know you any of this?”

  A sudden draft iced her toes and fingers. Tears welled, but she blinked the weakness back. “Nay. Lady Gráinne would not have allowed such to happen. To accept a child stolen from her family for training? You know not the abbess. She obeys God’s commands above all others. Nay.”

  He snagged his arms tight around her, kissed her forehead, temple, and nose. “Cry not, Skatha. Mayhap ’tis not true. Forsooth, for these last two seasons I have been unable to tell who plays me false and who not.”

  Had she the wherewithal, Skatha would’ve dashed from the lodge to find Lady Gráinne and confront her. Her voice shook as she responded. “How train us? To what purpose?”

  “None is stated in the missive. ’Twas an order from your king to take Hjørdis by means foul or fair to Sumbarten at first opportunity to be instructed by Lady Gráinne in your company.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Nay. I do not believe Lady Gráinne knows of this dastardly command. I have lived nine summers with her, slept in the same chamber, and been her boon companion. She has trusted me with the running of the abbey these last three summers. On occasion, she has relied on my opinion.”

  “I had thought you would have knowledge of this in some magikal way. Have you no goddess powers at all, Skatha?” He thumbed the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Rage at the womanly frailty filled her veins. She swatted his hand away, scrubbed the moisture, and lifted her chin. “Naught. Nary a single one. And I have hidden a grievous flaw which negates all you have said. I am blind, sir. I was sent to Sumbarten when the blindness descended in my tenth and first summer.”

  He held her away from him, and she jutted her jaw, giving him full view of her face. “Nay.”

  “Aye.” A deep weariness weighted her shoulders.

  “You were born sighted?”

  “Aye.”

  “The loss of your vision—’twas the result of a fall? A blow to the head?”

  She snorted. “Nay. I fell asleep one eve with sight and awoke on the morn with none.”

  “I have ne’er heard of such. You see naught? Can you discern light and shadows?”

  “’Tis an absolute blackness. I have naught of value. You can cast me aside. Send us all back to the abbey. I am sorry for your sister, but none will trade me for her.” All at once she realized the depths of her position. “Why? Why take me to wife if all you wanted was a hostage? ’Tis revenge for Hjørdis?”

  “When an emperor and your liege lord orders a wedding, ’tis not a command a warrior can disobey without facing cert death and destruction.”

  “I do not follow.” Her head swam, too many thoughts whirling all at once to contain a sudden wave of dizziness. She twisted her fingers together and fought to remain calm.

  “Afore I journeyed to Sumbarten, I sent word of my plan to King Harald. Harald Bluetooth seeks an alliance with King Kenneth. He has of a mind to control the sea trading routes between the lands. All know Kenneth of Scots has a special interest in you, and I dared not make my move without informing King Harald. ”

  He sighed. Hot air from his exhale tickled her damp cheeks.

  “When did he command our vow-saying?” Naught made sense. From hostage to wife on the whim of a monarch?

  “I received the order last morn. ’Twas delivered by Olaf Longface, and in it both Harald Bluetooth and Emperor Tzimiskes bid me take you to wife.”

  Skatha remembered him speaking of King Harald’s law reader the day before. A stream of questions peppered her mind, but she pressed her lips together afore they burst forth. To what end did the king and the emperor order their marriage?

  “What happens now?”

  “I needs rescue Hjørdis.”

  His concern for his sister dimmed the despair soaring in her veins. “Is she full grown?”

  “Nay. She is a sprite of seven summers, bu
t wise beyond her years, and she too, is born of a union between a mortal and a god. My mother was taken captive the summer my father was killed. She was returned to us by Ali, the Eastern trader, full with child, and died giving birth to Hjørdis. Afore she drew her last breath, she told us that she had been held in Asgard at ThMrr’s hall, Bilskirnir, and that Hjørdis was his get.”

  “You believe your Norse God, ThMrr, sired Hjørdis?”

  “Aye. I am cert of it. Hjørdis can see death writ on a warrior’s face. She can tell the outcome of a battle. She has ne’er erred in her soothsaying. Etta came to know of my sister’s powers. I am cert she was the one who schemed to take Hjørdis.” The bitter fury in his voice made her shiver.

  What den of iniquity and deceit had they landed in? Etta must be the wife who Lady Gráinne had spoken of, Skatha realized, but she feigned ignorance. “Etta?”

  “My first wife. She died midsummer after attempting to poison me.”

  “Poison? Her own husband?” Skatha could scarce believe her ears.

  “Aye. ’Tis better you hear the tale from me than from another.”

  The tale he told her had her mind churning like a whirlpool. Her husband must have a grave mistrust of females after Etta’s vicious deception. Why did he bare his bald truths to her? Why now?

  “I am sorry for all you have suffered. ’Tis the most grievous mortal sin for one person to plot the death of another, but for a wife to plot her husband’s demise is unforgiveable.”

  She sought his hand but encountered the hard ridge of his chest, and her fingers tangled in the swirls of hair matting his skin. How she longed to explore his face, trace the line of his nose, discover if his jaw was square or no. Offer him the comfort of touch as he had her earlier.

  “’Twas a lesson well learned. I will ne’er wed a woman from the courts. Your abbey training was the only reason we did not all sail to Harald’s court to protest the marriage order. That and the proof of your purity, for Etta had none. She claimed rape and I believed her.”

  Aye. ’Twould be many moons afore he trusted a woman again. And he had been forced to take her as wife. Their union was twice cursed. Despair wracked a shudder through her.

  “What was cannot be changed. I must tend to the needs of my sister and my holding.”

  The Viking spoke truly. Dwell not on the past, but look to the future, and fix the now. The now was this eve. The future, the morrow.

  “I ask again, sir, what happens now?”

  “We speak with your Lady Gráinne in the morn. Much relies upon her reaction.”

  “And what of me? My lack of sight?” Exhaustion lay heavy on her, body and soul.

  “I am a man of honor. We have said the vows, and I abide by them.” He chuckled.

  She flinched. “’Tis amusing to you, my lord?”

  “Aye. I recall my scheme to put you at ease by dousing the lights. It must have had you chortling.”

  A grin she could not repress chased her lips. “’Twas hard not to laugh aloud. But the scheme worked. My fear abated, knowing you would not so easily discern when I erred.”

  He guffawed. “’Tis not possible for you to err in bedsport, wife. Not with the passionate ardor you try to hide with folded hands and rigid spine.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck bristled, and she could not repress the growing suspicion that he had planned to charm and seduce her this eve with some dire intent in mind. “What want you of me, my lord?”

  “I would have us as allies, Skatha. We have much to lose if we do not watch each other’s back. There are many who would see us embroiled in their nefarious plans. Many will suspect your goddess lineage and many would seek to steal you for their own. You and your ladies must not leave the holding.”

  He framed her face, his large rough palms heating her cheeks, and a peculiar tranquility soothed her mind. For the first time since leaving the abbey she felt safe. Mayhap not safe precisely, but no longer bubbling over with anxiety and trepidation.

  “I give you my word I will not leave Bita Veðr. As will the others.”

  “You are so cert of them?”

  “We are all that we have. And have had for many summers.” She smiled. “I have been blessed with the company of Elspeth, Muíríne, Dagrún, and the teachings of Lady Gráinne.”

  “I will ask your ladies and you to swear fealty to me at the náttverðr on the morrow. The penalty for breaking a fealty oath is immediate death.”

  His tone brokered no mercy, but spoke of a ruthless determination. If she betrayed him, she died, mayhap by his hand. What choice had she?

  “I have wed you. Does that not suffice?”

  “We wed in the Christian way. All who accept my protection swear fealty to me in the Norse way.”

  “Then I will swear the oath. I cannot speak for the rest on so serious a matter. I must warn you, sir, that Lady Gráinne is a devout Christian and may scoff at the notion of your sister being sired by ThMrr in his hall. She may not agree to swear fealty to one who worships the pagan gods.”

  “Though I was born and raised in the Norse way, King Harald has seen fit to convert to your Christianity and has bid his warriors to take Christian instruction. I care not whether there be one or many gods. I married you in the Christian way, and I will vow to pay honor to your god as well as those of the Norse. Think you your Lady Gráinne will consent if I so swear?”

  “Mayhap.” In truth, Skatha knew the abbess would acquiesce simply to ensure her charge’s well-being.

  As would Brökk for his sister.

  How dire it must have been for a girl of such tender years to suffer the pain of being torn from the only home she had ever known. And how terrified she must feel being held captive. At least when the same had happened to her, Skatha had her friends and Lady Gráinne for comfort. Hjørdis had no one. “Think you Baron Loudon treats Hjørdis gently?”

  “She is of considerable value to him alive and well. He would be a rank fool not to treat her with care. Howbeit, I have watched Hjørdis’s sadness when she sees death stalking a man or knows that many will die in battle on the morrow. The sorrow is so great she has to take to her bed and does naught but cry for days. She is inconsolable. Konáll and I have sought to protect her by keeping her apart from the warriors.”

  Her husband’s voice had grown hoarse with pain and anger as he spoke.

  “I know not if she will be able to disguise her feelings if the death or battle knowledge comes upon her in his care. I know not how Loudon will react, but he ne’er failed to clout any who annoyed him whilst he was at Bita Veðr.”

  Hope blossomed in her chest at Brökk and his brother’s open affection for their little half-sister. Surely men who held a mere girl in such regard would be honorable and true to their vows.

  “Is she a child accustomed to good health otherwise?”

  “Aye. Our Bjartr Stjarna is strong and lithe and full of good cheer.”

  Skatha heard the smile he wore and she marveled at the endearment he used to refer to his sister, Bright Star. “’Tis the custom for Vikings to value their females?”

  For ’twas cert not the ways of the courts or the monks.

  “’Tis the custom for Konáll, Dráddør, and I, and our forefathers. Honor drives us. How can honor not apply to both men and women?”

  Skatha frowned. Dare she believe his words? Dare she not? For had she not given him her trust by spilling all her secrets and revealing her weaknesses? Had she not given this warrior, this stranger, this Viking she’d been taught to fear and abhor, her passion?

  “Dráddør?”

  “Our youngest brother.”

  “He lives not at Bita Veðr?” She had not heard any refer to a warrior so named.

  “He is in hiding in Scotland, watching o’er Hjørdis.” He pressed his mouth to hers. “’Tis pleased I am we have come to terms on these matters. Shall we seek the comfort of the bed? Or do you care for more food or wine?”

  “I am replete, my lord.” Skatha hid a smile. He had fed
her but one apple slice and he had eaten naught. She pulled the furs closer.

  “Nay, you have no need of the pelts. I will keep you warm for I find I am wont to have you find your pleasure again this eve.” He stood, shifting her to lie high against his chest.

  He valued her and needed her to rescue his sister. ’Twas not in the manner a true husband should treasure a wife, but ’twas a start. And he must enjoy their bedsport to repeat the act twice in one night. Another notion made her frown, then grin. Her blindness mattered naught to him. She liked him more and more, this husband. He loved his sister, treated all fairly, and his touch sent her to an ecstatic realm she had never dreamed existed.

  * * *

  Brökk lay awake long after his wife had collapsed into a deep slumber. He had become too at ease with playing the games of royal courts. Too adept at speaking sweet words while he plotted destruction. Too suspicious of innocence not to watch and wait for evil to surface. He had brought Skatha to pleasure thrice more and swived her with abandon each time.

  Not once had he noticed a dubious reaction from his new bride.

  Yet sleep eluded him.

  Her mouth had been magik all eve. He had been loath to stop kissing her and when she had finally been coaxed into returning his caresses ’twas as if her tongue had coarsened and the cavern of her mouth vibrated. And now she curled into him and her entire body contracted and undulated in an intoxicating rhythm.

  His prick engorged when he tried to imagine how her rough tongue and humming mouth would feel around his length. If ’twas what Ali had referred to when he spoke of never wanting another female once a goddess had sucked his prick, then Brökk had found Valhalla indeed. He had not allowed her much liberty of touch, too enflamed with desire to retain control of his climax once sheathed within her puss.

  She rubbed her nose on his ribs, mumbled words he did not comprehend and then two he did: bjartr stjarna. Brökk and Konáll’s fond endearment for their beloved sister.

  The two brothers had oft tested the women on the journey from Sumbarten using Norse to alarm them, but none of the females had reacted. He had assessed her again in the great hall, and she had not understood the name for his holding.