Viking Queen_A Reverse Harem Romance

by Savannah Rose

  When all the food has been handed out, I return to the castle and slip back into my room.

  “Where have you been?” Lara mutters to me as I slide into the next bed along from hers.

  “Nowhere,” I reply, trying to keep my voice sounding normal and grinning into my pillow.

  “Nowhere,” Lara echoes, sleepily teasing me. “You work fast, Rhea. It’s only been six days and you seem to have found yourself a lover already.”

  “Not at all,” I whisper in reply. So much more than a lover, I think to myself privately.

  “Just be careful,” Lara mumbles, turning over to go back to sleep herself. “You never know who’s watching in this castle.”

  I don’t let the seriousness of her warning deflate my bubbling sense of happiness. Tonight I have spent minutes - hours - years - in Eirik’s warm, muscular arms. I know with all certainty that I will never relinquish that feeling again, that whatever Shar may attempt, nothing will ever let her part me from my Warriors.

  The next morning when I’m serving at breakfast, I can see something different in Shar. I have to wear a cap when serving the table, and I keep my head down so that Shar doesn’t catch a glimpse of my face. But when I steal a quick look at her, I can see her scanning the room, her face set into a hard, cold expression. She must know that something is up.

  Eirik’s posture is the same as normal - alert, intense. But there’s something different in his face. He looks simultaneously focused and at peace, as if he knows what he needs to do and knows that he will do it.

  ***

  For the next couple of days I keep my head down in every sense. I long to find some excuse to casually cross paths with my warriors, to savor the momentary pleasure of a sliver of eye contact or the brush of a hand against mine. But Shar knows that something is up, and seems to be keeping them closer than ever. None of them come to the stables or walk the hallways in their free time. Perhaps she’s taken their free time away.

  I’ve taken to taking a nightly walk. First I stop by the little cell where one of the Warriors sleeps alone. I do not enter the room - I don’t dare. Every night it becomes more impossible not to simply slip the nightgown off my shoulders and climb into bed beside Haki, or Johan, or Karsi, or Eirik. But I manage not to. I know that it’s not the time. Not yet. There would be no going back if I gave into my impulses. Shar would find out, and I still don’t have a plan for how I would protect myself. So instead I just linger at the threshold of that little cell, wondering if the sleeping Warriors can hear the pounding of my heart in their dreams.

  Then I walk back down the hallway to the queen’s bedchamber. I slip my hand silently through the air to put my Warriors to sleep, and go to the doorway where they’re slumped to gently touch their faces. In their sleep they always lean into my touch.

  I haven’t been back into Shar’s bedchamber. Not since that night with Eirik. I know that my sister’s on her guard, that I risk everything if I give into temptation and curl myself into one of my Warrior’s arms only a few feet from her bed.

  So instead I just place my hand on the wooden door and hope that the men inside can feel me in his dreams.

  Their attunement to my presence grows each day, I know. It’s the little things. When I walk into the great hall to serve breakfast in the mornings, I can see their bodies twitching almost imperceptibly, as if they can sense my presence. When I pass through the stables their own horses seem soothed by me, as if they too can recognize the presence of their masters’ mistress.

  Lara is convinced that I have a lover, thanks to my night-time wanderings. I haven’t bothered to correct her. It seems like there’s a lot of that going on in this castle anyway - I’m not the only one to walk the halls at night.

  I’m also starting to hear rumors that my sister has other lovers. The courtly love is expected, of course. It seems like every night some troubadour plays a song about his love for the queen, or a bard is invited in to recite an epic poem that names all her charms and praises her beauty. That’s just part and parcel of being queen, I guess.

  But there are other men, too. One night, on my walk, I saw the shape of a man slip into Shar’s bedroom. Karsi and Haki are on guard duty that night, and seem to admit him without actually ever acknowledging his presence. They keep their eyes straight ahead. See no evil, I guess.

  I can almost sense my sister’s frustration towards my warriors. It seems to crackle around her as she moves. I know that she doesn’t really love them - could never love them the way I do. But it infuriates her that she can’t possess them, as I’m sure she thinks is her right.

  She should have known that no matter what tricks she pulled, whatever dark magic she practices, she will never truly be queen.

  It’s the last night of the twelve nights of winter celebrations. The news has come that the queen intends to travel to her hunting lodge in the forest tomorrow morning, to take some exercise and fresh air after all these nights of feasting and revelry.

  I’m terrified of going back to who I was - the shadow of a woman who used to tell fortunes to strangers, all those lifetimes away. I’m terrified of how many people will die in years to come if Shar continues to rule. Evil isn’t who you are, it’s what you do. And nothing spells evil like watching the innocent starve to death, watching people- the young, the old, the sick- take their lives before the hunger takes it for them.

  I have to do something.

  The final night the feasting lasts until nearly four in the morning. The minstrels are commanded to keep playing until they practically fall asleep on their instruments, and the men and women of the court dance until their feet are sore, slipping off their shoes to dance barefoot. People are eating and drinking, kissing in corners, dropping into unconsciousness under the table.

  My sister seems to have a bright smile pasted on her face tonight. There are two bright red spots on each of her cheeks, which could be from the wine or could be caused by that sense of simmering anger radiating from her. She keeps clapping her hands and demanding more - more music, more wine, more dancing. At one point she rises to her feet and holds out her hand to Eirik, seeming to demand that he dance with her.

  He does so, obediently.

  It ought to make me jealous to see their two bodies moving together, but it doesn’t. Instead I’m satisfied at the sight of his movements - dutiful but completely devoid of any passion. I appreciate the grace of his footsteps, the strength of his arms as he lifts Shar up by her wasplike waist. She laughs like a little girl and demands that each of them dance with her in turn - first Johan, then Haki, then finally Karsi. I watch each of their dances, noting in each one the bloodlessness in the way they touch her, the way they keep their eyes respectfully lowered at all times, never once looking at her with the smoldering longing that, in their hearts, I know they reserve just for me.

  The party ends, long after it should have done, long after everyone has started longing for their beds. I catch sight of Shar shaking her sheet of white-blonde hair, as if admitting defeat, and then holding out her hand to Eirik. Selecting him for her bed.

  That makes my blood boil a little. Every night I’m forced to watch her eyes flit over each of my Warriors in turn, before pointing to the one that she wants to accompany her to her chamber. It makes me laugh bitterly with the knowledge that it’s all for show. That she’s kidding herself if she thinks she’s demonstrating her power by demanding a lover for her bed every night, when I know full well that none of them have ever so much as laid a finger on her bare skin.

  Eirik dutifully follows her. Haki bids goodnight to the others and heads off to bed alone, and Karsi and Johan follow Shar and Eirik at a respectful distance, ready to assume guard duty for the night.

  I know that tonight is my night. I help the other servants to clear up from the feast for a few minutes, taking more than I know I can carry, but excited at how many people I’ll be able to feed. Dawn begins to peep through the windows of the castle, reflected off the sea, I slip away to hand out the food a
nd then I’m in pursuit of my Warriors.

  ***

  And this is where I make my first mistake.

  I’ve done so well so far. I’ve trusted my intuition and it’s served me well. Being close to my Warriors has brought me into much closer contact with my own power, and I’ve been able to nudge people into sleep at will, to attune some unnamed sense into the quiet of the castle night to know that I won’t be disturbed on my nightly walks. I have trusted myself all the way to slipping into Eirik’s semi-sleeping arms. Yes, my instinct has served me well.

  Oh, I think I’m being careful tonight. I wait until I can’t hear anyone moving around before I set off for the queen’s bedchamber. I am as careful as ever in putting Johan and Karsi into that strange sleep.

  But I don’t perform the same ritual that I’ve been performing every night. I don’t place my hand on the door to the bedchamber, tuning into the presence of those sleeping inside. If I had, I would have known that something was badly wrong.

  I’m still young in my powers, you see. And when you’re young, you make mistakes.

  Everything looks normal when I enter. Shar is asleep in her bed, same as she was the last time I came in. Eirik is dozing in the same armchair by the fire. His arms are slightly spread, almost as if he’s been waiting for me and I slip straight into his embrace. I’m not cautious enough, and rather than stirring gently he wakes up properly.

  “Who’s there?” he asks, even as his arms have already closed automatically around my waist.

  “Sssh,” I say, trying to mirror the gentle softness of the previous night. “It’s me.”

  He stays silent for a few moments. I wonder if he even consciously realizes that he’s holding me. Then… “Sorry, drottning,” he says, and leans back into sleep, still embracing me.

  I feel the physical protection of his embrace, but not the overwhelming sense of safety that I had known the last time we sat here together. Something is off, but I tell myself that it’s just my excitement, that my thudding heart is a simple reaction to my joy in Eirik’s presence, and not a warning.

  I begin to whisper into Eirik’s ear, even though he’s sleeping. I tell him who I am, who Shar is, how terribly my birthright has been taken from me. Most of all I tell him that I love him, littering kisses over his face and neck. I can’t resist. His firelight-illumined skin seems to invite me.

  I start talking about all my plans for us, for the five of us. I’m hoping that it will seep through into his conscious mind and that when he wakes up he’ll recognize me instantly.

  Notice that I say hoping. I haven’t dared stop to ask myself whether I really even believe it.

  Eirik says nothing. He seems to have fallen deeper into sleep, his fingers twitching on my back. I tell him that we’re going to get away from this place, that he’ll never have to be anywhere near Shar again. Somehow I seem to hope that just by him waking and recognizing me for who I am, Shar’s reign will fall and I will be able to take up my rightful place as queen, with my four Warriors by my side forever.

  “Eirik?” I whisper. I know that I shouldn’t disturb him too much, but I’m starting to get a little unsettled. His embrace around me has turned into dead weight. I touch his face lightly, and his eyelashes don’t even flicker.

  “Eirik, wake up for me. Can you hear what I’m saying?”

  “He won’t wake up,” says a voice behind me.

  I’d almost forgotten that Shar was asleep in the bed behind me, being too caught up with Eirik.

  But she isn’t asleep any more.

  She’s sitting on the end of the bed, wrapped in a blood-red silk robe. God knows how long she’s been sitting there.

  I spring away from Eirik, and his arms fall clumsily away from me, but he doesn’t wake. He doesn’t protect me. I feel sick.

  “Hello, Rhea,” Shar says calmly.

  I sigh. All this effort, all this planning, and she’s caught me after all.

  “He’s drugged, you know,” Shar says casually, pointing one talon-like nail at Eirik’s prone form. “I’ve been drugging all of them since the sixth night. I knew something was wrong then. I knew someone had been in here, and my warriors hadn’t stopped them.”

  Her face fills with bitterness.

  “Why don’t they love me, Rhea?” she says. Her voice is oddly childlike, more confused than angry. She rises to her feet and crosses the room. Part of me thinks that she’s going to start hitting me, scratching me. I stand my ground, even though my heart is pounding. But instead she reaches down to Eirik’s face, trailing her fingernails along his cheekbone.

  “They’re so handsome. So strong. So devoted. So why don’t they love me the way they love you?”

  “It’s not meant to be, Shar,” I say softly. Despite everything, I still feel like I know the sound of her voice better than I know my own. Part of me even misses her. Misses the old Shar, at least. The one who was my playmate and confidante. “It’s not destiny.”

  “You make your own destiny,” Shar shoots back, her face twisting into a sneer. “Surely you ought to understand that better than anyone. You’re the one who’s been plotting, sneaking around, manipulating everyone and lying through your teeth. Really Rhea.” She turns fully toward me, her eyes flashing. “Does this whole idea of destiny not start to seem a little ironic to you?”

  I can’t speak. I want to say something that will dismiss her words, that will prove beyond all doubt that I’m meant to be the queen and she’s just deceiving herself. I want to lay it all out logically for her. The truth is that I want to convince her.

  But I can’t. I don’t have logic, I don’t have arguments. All I have is the electricity that passes between me and my warriors whenever I see them, and the knowledge in my heart that nothing can be right while Shar is still queen.

  “I’m sorry, Shar,” I say.

  “I’m sorry too, sister,” she replies. For a moment she seems sincere, her eyes widening as if she’s trying to convince me.

  But then she laughs.

  “Isn’t that what father always used to make us do? Apologize to each other? It doesn’t matter who started it.” Her voice rises into high-pitched, cruel mimicry. “I’m finished with all that childish nonsense. But he’s right, Rhea.” She steps closer. “It doesn’t matter who started it. But it does matter who ends it, and I’m ending it right now.”

  She brings her face closer to mine, her eyes hooking into me. She smiles, then takes a deep breath, and opens her mouth to utter a terrible, high-pitched scream.

  What happens next takes place in a blur. Haki and Karsi burst in, and Eirik wakes from his slumber. Before I know what’s happening both my arms are seized, and a drawn broadsword is hovering inches from my throat.

  “Do you recognize this little slut?” Shar snarls at my three Warriors. They make no reply, keeping their eyes respectfully on the floor, their grip on my wrists tight. The energy between us crackles like electricity, and despite my terror I feel warmed by their touch. “This little fraud, this enchantress, has been casting her spells on you these twelve days. And you - you fools, you simpletons - have done nothing to fight her twisted charms.”

  She is biting her lip with fury, drawing blood that matches her silk robe. Karsi’s hand tightens on my forearm in a way that would be painful if it didn’t fill me with a strange, secret pleasure.

  “Take her away!” she snaps. “Show your loyalty to your queen, for once in your miserable lives. Screw this up and I’ll bury you with my own two hands.” Her eyes are set on Karsi’s as she says this. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe, not permitting the impact of her words to be lessened by anything natural or otherwise.

  I don’t resist when they pull me away. I don’t try to convince them or tell them who I am. I’m too busy cursing my carelessness, realizing in horror that all my care, all my slow seduction, has been wasted. My Warriors seem to think nothing of dragging me to the cells near the armory, of throwing me inside unceremoniously, of turning the rusting key inside the lock
and trapping me in that cage.

  I don’t try to convince them to set me free. I don’t try to do anything. Death isn’t something you come back from and risking their lives…Risking their lives wouldn’t only mean the end of them, it would mean the end of me too.

  A few hot tears do spill out of my eyes after the door has slammed shut behind my three Warriors.

  Then I pace. I want to rip all the torrent of feelings out of me - the fury at myself, the love-tinged hatred for Shar, the impulsive longing for my Warriors that made me lose all my caution.

  I pace for what could be hours, marching out the ten feet of that tiny cell.

  It is only when the sun is fully up and the birds start singing, when I’ve worn myself out, that I sit down on the straw-strewn floor, close my eyes, and begin to think.

  First I think of getting back to Ysulte. It seems terrible to abandon my plan, when I’ve managed to grow so close to my Warriors, when I’ve actually felt their arms around me and their breath on my neck.

  The thought of being away from them coupled with the thought of giving up on all the people who secretly need me causes bile to rise in my throat. But I can rationally see that I’m in terrible danger, that maybe I need to cut my losses. For a time, I try to get myself back to that timeless place on the grassy hill, the way I’d managed it before. But this time, no matter how hard I try, no matter how I do my best to let go and feel my way, I cannot persuade that strange fire to fill my eyes and transport me to where I need to be.

  I give up. Or rather - I give in. I sense that it’s not to be, that whatever I need to do here, it has not been done yet. Perhaps my failure is not yet complete.

  With that in mind I reach out to my Warriors. First to Haki, the only one who did not participate in imprisoning me in this cell. I send my mind out towards him, reminding myself of those brief moments making the bed when our fingers touched, when I’m certain that he recognized who I am.