I stand, suddenly feeling sad, like my hopes are crushed.
“It doesn’t matter,” I mutter, as she shoves the beautiful purple gown over my head and starts to lace it up in the back.
“What doesn’t matter?”
She gives a good tug, and I have to hold on to the mirror to keep myself from falling over.
“My love for Einarr. It matters to me and only me, but Father will never allow it. Tonight is the night I’m supposed to find my husband. And I don’t want to. Sassa, what if I have to settle for a man I do not want?”
“I will never allow my best friend to be with someone that she doesn’t love. Do you understand? And Einarr will kill everyone, like you said. So, why are you worried?”
“I’m worried my father will kill him first.” If my father ever hurt Einarr, I will never forgive him. He would be taking away my lungs, my breath, my reason for being. It would be like if Mother came back and I took her away from him.
Sassa spins me around and grabs me by the arms. “Now, you listen here. If your father ever laid one hand on Einarr, he would have to deal with Grim. Grim is already getting tired of his attitude and is only biting his tongue because I told him to. And he wanted to punish your father for stealing your room key. Room keys are only made for people using the rooms. If you want a key you ask, you know the drill.”
With how many times I’ve been locking my door lately, I suppose I should ask for one.
“Thyra, Einarr will be fine. If you must be worried, worry about your father. If he doesn’t start making smarter choices, I cannot stop Grim.”
“I understand, Thyra.”
She claps her hands together and turns me back around to face the mirror. “Now, for a fake birthday-match-making-bash, you look beautiful.”
“Oh, goddess. I’ve never seen myself like this before.”
“Like what?”
I shake my head, touching my hands to my lips. Even they seem a bit pinker. “I don’t know.”
“Beautiful, Thyra. You mean to say, you’ve never seen yourself look beautiful. I wish I could slap you for that. I really want to. You’re gorgeous. When will you see that? Everyone else does. Especially Einarr.”
I glance away at my reflection, suddenly coy. “Einarr is the only one that matters.”
Sassa throws her head back in a laugh. “Well, hopefully I matter a bit too, and I think you’re gorgeous, my love.”
I have to giggle along with her. She’s right. I always wish Einarr would see himself the way I see him, but I should also see myself the way he sees me.
“Let’s be on our way then, yes? Now, we are a little late, but that’s fine. It’s good to make them wait.”
Sassa nearly pushes me out the door, and I stumble, hitting the wall with my hands. “Now, when we get to the steps, wait. Grim is to call your name, and then you will go down the steps. I must rush ahead of you to let him know you’re coming. I love you; you look beautiful. Think with this, right?” She points to my heart. “It’s the only thing that matters.”
And with those final words, she departs down the corridor, moving quickly for a woman who has a round stomach. I slow my steps; I’m in no hurry at all to practically walk into a den of wolves that do not want anything to do with me, just what I come with.
If I hurry, I can run the other way and never look back. I’ll look for Einarr, and we can run away together. It wouldn’t be so bad, just the two of us, but what of Abigale and Abram? I know he would leave if I begged him, but I’d never forgive myself if he left them because he would never want to.
I run my hand along the cold stone of the wall, inching my way toward what feels like the end of my freedom. Sweat beads above my brow. My body starts to heat, either from the nerves or nausea I feel. Perhaps a bit of both.
When I turn left to start going down the steps, waiting for my name to be called, my eyes drift over all the men there. There is a sea of them. And I do not want any of them. I wish they never showed up because at the end of the night, if I do not leave with Einarr, then I am not leaving with anyone.
“Presenting the beautiful Lady Thyra Dahl,” announces Grim. I watch his eyes roll over all the men with a curl of his lip. “And do not forget to wish her a happy birthday, or I’ll kill you myself.”
I giggle. He has such disdain for anyone who isn’t Einarr.
I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to take the first step. I feel like a harlot walking down these steps and confronting all these men, but the pressure I feel to make Father happy is overwhelming. Almost crippling. Tears well in my eyes as I place my hand on the rail and take my first step. Everything is going to be fine.
I do not need to agree to their hand. I do not need to give them anything of me. Einarr is mine, as I am his, and we will figure out a way to be together. If it means leaving the constricting hand of my father, as much as it hurts to leave him, I shall. I need my own life. I cannot be protected under his wing forever. It is time he lets me go.
The more steps I take, the more faces I see, Princes from all over the world are really here. Burgundy, Hungary, France, Denmark—oh, they really do look soft—have they ever actually protected their country? There is the Grand Prince of Kievan Rus’, a man so big he almost reminds me of Einarr, but he looks terrifying. Dark hair, black eyes. I meet his gaze, and I see nothing behind them. Soulless? Heartless? I do not know, but a man that makes me fear him is not a man I want or need in my life.
“Lady Thyra,” his thick accent greets me. He gives a soft bow, causing his long, dark hair to fall in his face. “You are more beautiful than the snow covering the plains of my country.”
Maybe I am wrong about Kievan Rus’. “Oh, that’s very kind. Thank you?”
“Alexie Ivanov. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“As to you, Prince Alexie. I shall see you in the ballroom, yes?”
“Da, Lady Thyra,” he nods. His deep voice makes goosebumps arise on my body, but not in a good way. While he is nice, his voice has a threat to it, something dangerous. Something lethal. Again, maybe it is because I do not know the man. He does not seem so bad. I should not be so quick to judge.
Regardless, it does not matter; my heart and soul belong to Einarr. And that shall be the only thought that will let me make it through this night.
Chapter Sixteen
Einarr
“I look ridiculous,” I scoff, staring at myself in the broken mirror in my barely built cabin. The only rooms I have complete so far is my bedroom and bathroom. And the more I look in the cracked mirror, the more I wonder what the hell I’m thinking. I need to storm that party and whisk her away on the back of Jasmine. We can live a happy life. I can get a mirror that isn’t cracked.
One thing is certain; I am done watching her and loving her from afar. It’s time that she is mine. I’ll fight her father to the death, if I must, because it will not stop me from doing what I do best: take, claim, and win.
Even with the plan in place, I cannot get over what I look like. I have my best furs on, I ran a brush through my hair and beard, I freshly shaved the sides of my head, and even used some pine needles under my arms. I do not know what gave me the idea, but they smell good, and sometimes I do not. And so far, it has helped. I smell of the woods. I like it.
“Well, well, look at you. I had no idea your hair could be so… shiny,” Grim said with a teasing smirk.
“Fuck off.” I dab my hands with a bit of water and run it through my hair. There is just no fixing this mess. I should just braid it. It looks awful. Braiding it quickly, I tie off the end, reach for my blade on the counter and wrap the belt around my hips.
“You won’t need that for the party, Einarr.”
I grunt, snapping the belt closed. “I’m taking it.” To go somewhere unarmed would be foolish. As if I am not going to go to a party where men are trying to marry the love of my life. I’ll slice off all their heads and put them on sticks, for all I care. No one shall keep me from her.
I never go
anywhere without my sword, and I am not about to start now. I am entering a party where I am not welcome. I must be ready to defend myself, especially from Lord Troy.
“If you walk in there hostile, things will get messy. You do not want that for Thyra.”
“Don’t tell me what I want for her!” I shout and spit flies out of my mouth.
He holds up his hands. “I’m not trying to start a fight. I am only trying to help you.”
“I know.” I lean against the bedroom wall. “I know that.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Grim. I’ve never tried to court a woman before, but with her, it’s beyond that already. I love her, Grim. I can’t stand being away from her. My mind is overtaken with thoughts of her. She settles me. She settles the beast I’ve always felt. That need to fight, the need to kill, it’s gone when I’m with her.”
“Aye, that’s great, brother. I’m so happy for you. She is a good woman. You’ll be happy.”
“Her father is an obstacle, and since I cannot kill him, he shall remain an obstacle.” I catch another glance at myself in the broken mirror and snarl at myself. “And I look like I’ve never seen a party in my life. What am I doing? I don’t belong in there. I belong around a fire, cooking meat, ripping it from the bone.”
“You know who is in there, though? Wishing for you? Thyra. And I bet she is the type that will sit around the fire with you and rip the meat off the bone.”
“Aye, brother. She is,” I agree.
“You aren’t that beast anymore. Not with her, right? Save it for battle.”
He is right, of course. She needs me in the castle. Thyra does not even want to be at this party. She is only doing it to make her father happy. She wants me. And I need to prove to her that I will do anything for her. And that means crashing this party and stealing her away from all that nonsense, because that is what it is, pure fucking nonsense.
I cannot believe her father would go to this extent. He must have really gone out of his way to contact all of these men. I suppose any man in his eyes is better than me, but that is where he is wrong. There is no one better to protect her, to kill for her, to love her, and to provide for her. I am the best choice.
“How did she look?” I ask Grim. “She got a purple dress.”
“Aye, she looked stunning. I’m sure many of the men there think so as well.”
I grab a small blade off the counter and throw it, bellowing a mighty roar.
The blade hits the wall with a hard thud, sticking straight out of the wood. I wish the blade was embedded in one of those men’s heads. One less fool I would have to worry about it.
“Pisses me off that they are there, eyeing her, thinking about more than just wanting her hand.”
“How do you know what they are thinking?” Grim says with a smug smirk.
“Oh, shut it. You know it’s because I’m thinking those thoughts. Even right now, when I don’t need to be, but they shall never get to have her like I have. She’s mine, Grim. Mine.” The killer in me, the beast, starts to rise again, when I think about all those men in there lusting after her, thinking about fucking her and filling her up with their seed.
They don’t love her. Not like I do.
I unsheathe my sword, ready to kill. My vision turns red. I’m ready to storm in there now. I want to kill all of them. She is only mine to feast my eyes upon.
“Brother, lower your blade.” Grim’s hand pushes my sword down.
I blink, trying to pull myself out of the murderous haze. “Sorry, Grim.”
“You still have that temper.”
I put my blade back where it belongs. “Only when I need it.”
“If you go in there, swinging your blade to and fro, you’ll start a massacre.”
“And? As long as I leave with Thyra, I really don’t give a fuck.”
Grim pinches the bridge of his nose again, and under his breath, he counts, for what, I have no idea. “Leave the ones you somewhat like alive, aye?”
“Why would I kill people I care for? You know me better than that.”
“Aye, but I don’t know you when you’re in love, brother. We are all different men when it comes to our women.”
“Speaking of women, let us go to them. I’m sure Sassa is waiting for you.”
“Us, she is waiting for us. Wulf and Trident included.”
“Where is Abigale?” I ask as we step out of my bedroom onto the grass, hopefully where a corridor will be someday.
“She is still in the medical wing. Doing well.”
I nod at Grim, not saying anything else. I do not want him to know I am fond of the girl. I also want to take her under my wing. I never want anyone to ever feel unwanted, not if I can help it. I want to ask him another day if he plans on finding where Abigale is from. If not, I want to build enough rooms in my cabin for me, Thyra, Abigale, and Abram. I must first speak to Thyra about it, but I have a feeling she won’t mind.
We stomp toward the castle and Wulf and Trident end up flanking our sides. “What’s the plan, Warlords?” Wulf asks.
“Don’t know. I’ll know when I get there.” My thick Scottish accent has never faded after all these years raised by Vikings, and I do not understand why the bloody thing just won’t go away. It is just another thing to add on to the list of things Thyra’s father hates about me.
Trident cracks his knuckles. “I love when there is not a plan.”
I stop him with a slap of my hand on his chest, causing everyone to halt. “No need for violence. Grim is right,” I acknowledge what he said earlier. “Ladies are in there, and I know I do not want mine seeing it.” I curse when the admission leaves my lips. Wulf and Trident do not know of my love for Thyra. I’ve kept it from them.
Trident catcalls, and Wulf throws his arm around me, excited, but I still do not like being touched by anyone, only Thyra. I push him off, running my hands down my front to make sure I’m still somewhat put together.
“Aye, Warlord,” Trident nods.
“Giving up the warrior life to be a fancy gentleman?” teases Wulf.
I push him. “What are we, children? Come on, put your big boy pants on.”
Wulf and Trident walk ahead of us, and the bastards make kissing noises.
“You know, they are just happy for you.”
“They’ve got a funny way of showing it,” I tell Grim.
“Their leader, their mentor, their Warlord, has found someone to make him happy when he has seen so much death. Perhaps, cut your men some slack. A lot of people can feel happiness for others, Einarr. It isn’t an impossible task.”
“I know that.”
“Then why are you acting as if it is so terrible that they are happy for you?” he asks.
“Because…” I swallow as the truth chokes my throat; I do not want to lie. “I’m not used to it. Everything. All this feeling of love is new to me. I need time to wrap my mind around other people celebrating when I’m just getting used to the fact that a beautiful woman wants me. Me, Grim.”
“Stop!” Grim shouts to Wulf and Trident. They quiet down.
And then he turns his attention to me. He is furious. He pokes me in the chest with his finger, and when he speaks, his voice is low. I know this voice. It’s the same voice uses before he cuts someone’s throat.
“I’m going to say this once. There has never been anything wrong with you. People be damned. You’re a good man. If I ever hear you talk about yourself like that again, I shall cut the tongue from your throat.”
He says that, but he says this every time I say something bad about myself. “Aye, Lord Grim,” I say cheekily.
“Arse, let’s go.” He pushes me forward the same time as he opens the ballroom doors.
“Looks like the party is in full swing,” Wulf comments, looking around the impressive room with a low whistle.
I step deeper into the massive ballroom and look around. My men are at my side, supporting me, and my fingers itch to gr
ab my sword to start fighting. But I relax. This isn’t the time or place.
“The party’s just getting started, boys.” I grin, making sure to slam the door behind me as I continue to make my entrance.
I want every-fucking-body to see me here because it is me who is going to be leaving with Lady Thyra. Not them. Me. I roam my eyes around the room, and double back when I see Lord Troy stomping from the chair, he sits in like a throne.
“Oh, Sir Troy looks pissed,” Wulf says a little too happily.
That is one thing I can say about my warriors; they are always ready for battle.
“Can we kill him?” Trident whispers. “We can do it where no one will notice.”
“No. No, did you not just hear me out there? No fighting. And Thyra will notice. Go get drinks, you mangy men. Leave me be.”
Sometimes when Wulf and Trident are with me, it makes me wonder if they are more childish then actual children because they are a lot of work.
“I have this, brother,” whispers Grim to me, staring down Lord Troy in the eye as he approaches.
“I don’t need you to fight my battle for me, Grim.” I hold my head up high. I’m never one to back down from a challenge.
“I know you don’t. I want to give him an order, and if he breaks it, I want to deal with it as I see fit.”
Lord Troy bumps into one of the servants handing out drinks, making her fall over. He stops and helps her up. At least he did that. I had no idea he had it in him. After he apologizes, his nice face is replaced with one of pure hatred, and he comes charging at me again.
“Good goddess, brother. What did you do to make him hate you so much? He is nothing but loyal.”
“I fell in love with his daughter,” I mutter before I find a finger in my face and Troy nearly seething with anger. The vein in his forehead is popping out, and his reaction to my arrival is turning a few heads.
“You,” he grits through clenched teeth.
“Sir Troy, I love what you have done with the place.” I steal a glass of mead from the serving tray and sip. Damn, that is good.
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