Vikings' Brides 4 Book Box Set

by Jessica Knight

  “You’re a good boy, Hank. You did well.” I pluck an apple off a tree and hand it over to him. His teeth slice into the crunchy fruit. Juice spills over his mouth, but he is happy. He is licking his lips and nudging my shoulder with his nose for more.

  I laugh. “Right, I tell you what. I’ll give you a few more and then some sugar cubes for winning. You pushed yourself today. You deserve it.”

  He blows a raspberry, nudging me a bit harder to tell me to get on with it. “Fine, fine.” I grab another apple and pull it; the branch bending to try and keep the fruit that it has worked so hard to grow. It gives, and the apple snaps off. I lay my hand out flat and Hank takes it in his mouth again, juice going everywhere. “You’re supposed to impress the ladies with your eating.”

  He shakes his mane, his hair whipping me in the face in disagreement.

  “He’s strong,” Jericho comments, from behind me. “You should find him a mate to make strong fillies or foals.”

  “Then I’d be out a horse for a while. I won’t be able to ride him if he is trying to get a girl pregnant.”

  “We have extra horses,” he offers.

  “None like Hank.” But Jericho’s words get me thinking. Hank would make beautiful offspring, and I know Hank would be all about it if it meant getting to stay in his stable. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Trident!” Wulf’s voice yanks me out of my thoughts.

  “Wulf, everything okay?” I worry my brows when I see his sword swinging in the air.

  “Aye, when you get situated, I am challenging you to a duel,” he announces with a confident smirk. “It’s been a while.”

  “Are you sure? You’ve been out of the game for a while, old friend. I’d hate to have you look weak in front of everyone.”

  “Oh, I’m not the one that shall look weak, brother,” he fires back.

  “I’ll take Hank. Don’t start the battle without me. Oh, wait. No, start without me. I shall go get that pig for us. And then we are going to celebrate who wins and how great I am,” Jericho takes the reins from me, keeping a serious expression on his face as he walks away from us.

  “Ah, Jericho,” Wulf sighs.

  “Is a fucking idiot,” Warlord Einarr growls as he stomps by me, with an expression on his face that can only be taken as someone who wants to kill. He wanders past us without further comment.

  Wulf grimaces. “I suppose he still hasn’t forgiven Jericho for losing Lady Thyra.”

  “I suppose not. Shite, that is the last person I would want on my bad side. The Warlord?” I shiver, knowing the man could kill me with a flick of his finger. Not many men scare me, but Warlord Einarr does. The man is a walking, talking, breathing killing machine. Wulf takes a step forward, but I hold my hand to stop him. “I must talk to Lord Grimkael about what Jericho and I found at the border.”

  “What is it? Is it serious?” Wulf asks, the playful tone replaced with the Wulf ready to go into battle. He’s good at that—battling.

  “I don’t know, honestly. You know how weird Jericho is with his…”

  “—Right. I know. Go on.”

  “I have no idea what to think. Jericho says every time we go there, two sets of eyes are watching us.”

  Wulf cocks his head, confused. “How does he know it is two sets of eyes?”

  I throw my hands in the hair, equally as mind boggled. “I don’t know, but I think he is right. Someone is watching us. They have made no threats, which is odd, but he doesn’t think they are harmful. Just curious. Curious is never good, though. Right? Curious is bad. Curious gives time to plan an attack.”

  “Lord Grimkael appreciates Jericho’s… instincts. I think he would like to know… after our duel.”

  “Before,” I deadpan.

  “After.”

  “How about after. I need a good show,” Lord Grimkael says, taking a seat in one of the wooden chairs. He wraps his arms around Lady Sassa’s waist and pulls her down on his lap. She yelps, holding one of their babies to her chest. “Let us see who the true swordsman is, aye?”

  Grabbing the thick handle of my blade, I unsheathe it from my belt. People start to gather around and make a circle around us. A few of them have a horn or a goblet of mead or ale, and then hands are moving over each other. Holy shite, they are making bets. They are passing coins around, debating on who is going to win.

  “Everyone realizes this isn’t to death, right? It’s a friendly quarrel. Wulf just wants to try to get on his feet,” I announce.

  “He is the best warrior I know, Sir Trident. People are betting to see if you can trump the best.” Lord Grimkael takes a big gulp of his mead, and Lady Sassa rolls her eyes, rocking the baby in her arms.

  “People are going to lose. He is out of practice,” I say in the best overconfident voice I have to hide my uneasiness. Wulf is my best friend, but I’m no fool. He is a big bastard with plenty of scars to prove just how good he is. Scars are a way to prove if someone is battle worthy and if they are a survivor. Wulf has hundreds of scars across his body. I have a few, but nowhere near as much. He uses his body as a shield, taking the slices of the enemy blade against his skin. He is an impressive warrior. Someone to truly fear.

  I must play to his weakness. That’s the only way I can win this. He is still favoring his left side when he turns. The wound must be tender, even all these months later. I hate it for him, but I love it for me. Wulf walks over to Lady Lilith and kisses his son, Angelo, on the forehead. Cute boy. Angelo has a thick head of hair on his wee little head. Soon they’ll have to cut it before it gets in his eyes.

  I love the little fellow. He is the best.

  “Ready?” Wulf struts over to the middle of the circle, waving his unique black blade in the air. I try not to remember how many people have died by that blade. I know it won’t be me, but still. It’s a sword of death, that thing.

  “Are you?” I crouch a bit and move my feet quick. Soon we are circling each other. Both of us are smiling. He is casual, not in a fighting stance, but I know better. He is ready. His brown hair is tied back, and he seems well rested, but I know he isn’t. He is dragging. Much slower than usual.

  I dive forward, thrusting my sword through the air. He meets me with his own, and the metal clashes together as we struggle for dominance. He lifts his leg up and kicks me away with his foot. I stumble back, but I catch myself. He takes the moment to charge at me and lifts his sword over his head. I twist, spinning in the opposite direction, and his blade meets the grass.

  “You’re slow,” I tease.

  He snarls as he hefts the blade from the earth, swinging the damn thing around as if it weighs nothing. He wipes his brow with his forearm and runs toward me. I dip to the left, knowing he won’t be able to move quickly, but he rights himself, turning in the opposite way. It takes me off guard. I didn’t expect him to think that fast. He elbows me in the back, and it sends me down to my knees.

  People shout and cheer, clinking their drinks together in celebration, but a few are cheering for me to get back up and kick his arse. I know on any other day I wouldn’t be able to take Wulf. He’s slow today, out of practice. It’s the only way I’m able to get the upper hand.

  I take advantage of my position, and kick my legs out, swiping his feet from underneath him. He falls like a sack of potatoes. “The bigger they are…” I tease him, watching him stare up at the sky, blinking as fast as he can like he can’t believe I got the upper hand. “You big brute. You don’t fight for a few months, and you turn into a damn baby.”

  “Oy, fuck off,” Wulf slaps my hand away when I offer to help him up.

  “Spoilsport,” I jab at him with a smug smile.

  “Trident!” Lord Grimkael shouts from the castle with one of his babies in his arms. It’s odd, seeing him holding something so small when he is so big.

  “Aye, Lord?” I ask, sheathing my sword as sweat drips from my brow. My chest is heaving from the exertion of fighting.

  “Your father needs to see you. He sent a message.�
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  I lift a questioning brow at him, but Lord Grimkael doesn’t say anything else. Wulf takes my outstretched hand, finally, and I lift him up from the ground. It isn’t often my father calls for me to go down to the village, but with how we left things, I shouldn’t be surprised. It isn’t easy being a warrior, and it is just as hard being a son. The two do not go hand and hand.

  And right now, I’m more warrior than I am a son. How do I change that?

  “Do you need me to go with you?” Wulf asks.

  “I appreciate it, brother. With how things ended last time with them, I’m going to go on my own.”

  “Everything okay?”

  I give him a tight smile. “I hope so. I’ll see you later, and good fight. You’re still healing. It’s the only way I could beat you.”

  “I let you win,” he groans as he stretches.

  “Whatever makes you sleep at night.” I play punch his gut, and he doubles over, moaning in fake pain.

  He laughs, getting back on his feet, and lays his hands on my shoulders, tilting his chin down to meet my gaze. “Truly, Trident. You’re my best mate. If you need me, let me know.”

  “Aye, always, Wulf.”

  “Beowulf! Rian scraped his knee,” Lilith calls over with an edge of panic, bouncing Angelo in her arms, who is crying at the top of his lungs.

  “The lady rang. She needs me. Good luck, Trident.”

  I watch him head toward his family and take Angelo in his hands, lifting him in the air. Angelo stops crying immediately and smiles when Wulf starts making funny faces. My heart clenches at the sight. I want what he has so much. A family. A child. All the love in the world. I want so much more than war and blood. I want to come home to a woman in my bed, welcoming me with open arms.

  “Trident. You must go,” Lord Grimkael reminds me.

  “Right. On my way.” I push my way through the crowd, accepting congratulations and heavy pats on the back as I walk toward the stables.

  A hundred different things are running through my head. What if something happened to my mother? Nay, Lord Grimkael would have told me if it was something serious. Maybe something is wrong with my father. No. I shake my head, nearly tripping over my own two feet. My father is fine. He is the one who sent the message.

  The sun is shining down, reflecting off the long grass as I enter the stables. It’s musky, smells of animal. Dust flutters through the air as I open the doors. To my right, I notice the door to Hank’s stall is open. I rush over to see him and a mare named Harlot laying down, their heads on each other’s necks.

  “Goddess, you two fools are in love, aren’t you?” I close them in to make sure they stay safe. I doubt they would go anywhere, but just in case. I know taking Hank is out of the question because of the long ride we had over the last few days. Leaving the two beasts in peace, I stride through the barn, barrels of hay on either side of me. The cries of kittens comes from one of them, and when I look between two stacks, I see three little black kittens curled up next to their mother.

  “Aw, aren’t you cute?” I reach my hand in to pet one, and the mother hisses at me. “Aye, okay. I get it.” Not so cute, then. “I’ll be on my way.” I continue to the end and saddle up one of the extra horses. They don’t have names because they aren’t claimed yet. Someone will claim them soon, with how the kingdom is growing. They will have names in no time.

  The mare I ride is a beautiful white color with a black nose and blue eyes. She is stunning. Why anyone wouldn’t want her, I have no idea. Maybe I can claim her too. Hank may be tied up with Harlot, and if she gets pregnant, I’ll be out a horse with him protecting her. I can afford two.

  I mount her when I get outside and pat her neck. She’s so soft. And her hair, it’s so white it reminds me of snow. Snow. “You like that name? Snow?”

  She digs her hoof in the dirt, and for a minute, I think she is actually answering me before she takes off. “Whoa!” I try and pull on the reins to get her to stop, but she runs full speed. She isn’t listening to me. Shite, no wonder no one rides her. The damn horse is a maniac.

  “Whoa, stop!” I try pulling again, but nothing I do works. All I can do is hold on for the ride and hope I make it to my parents’ house. I’ve survived many things, but I swear to goddess if I die by horse, I shall be so fucking mad.

  “Trident?” Wulf yells when he sees me barely hanging on to the wild thing. He tries to run after me. “Trident! Don’t you listen? She isn’t broken in yet!” he shouts.

  We blow by him. Snow runs faster than any horse I’ve ever seen or been on. She takes a sharp left down the worn, beaten path we take to the village. People are jumping out of the way, barely missing being run over.

  “Sorry!” My voice cracks before I swallow, seeing a huge tree lying in the middle of the road. Snow isn’t slowing down.

  Shite, I’m going to die by horse. All these damn years, and this is how it ends? I have two choices. Stay on her back and see what happens, or jump off, risking my life. Since I’m no coward, I watch as the tree gets closer, Snow gets faster, and suddenly I’m in the air holding my breath, hoping she lands on her hooves.

  Chapter Five

  Sylvie

  “You’ll be the delight of the ball,” my mother says, brushing a comb through my long red hair.

  “I never asked for this,” I mutter with a curl of my lip.

  She runs the brush through a knot with a good yank, making me wince. “Well, maybe you should have thought about that before running off with that girl you call a friend.”

  I tighten my teeth together and hold my tongue before I say something that could get me in trouble. “Aya is a good friend,” I mumble, doing my best to sound small and inferior. I really wanted to yell and say that my mother wouldn’t know the meaning of friendship if it knocked her upside the head.

  My mother is so frustrating. I’m starting to wonder if I’m brainwashed into thinking my parents and I are close. I’ve never felt more distant from them than I have the last couple of days.

  “Aya is a rebellious girl who has no future ahead of her like you do. She is pulling you down the wrong path. A girl like you—”

  “—A girl like me, what?” I turn around on the stool and meet her icy blue gaze. “What? Tell me.”

  “You shall not take that tone with me. Do you understand?” She grips my chin, glaring at me before jerking my face back to the mirror. She starts brushing my hair again, humming as she does so. “A girl like you, with your class and status. You should not associate with the likes of someone like Aya. You are meant for more than what her life has to offer.”

  “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about people from other classes.”

  She inhales a deep breath and spins me around on the stool by my shoulders. “Sweetheart, I don’t. I just don’t want you with people that take away from your responsibilities, which is exactly what she is doing. Anytime something important comes up, we find your room empty and must search the entire town for you. When you are nowhere to be found, we find out later you had been out with that girl the whole time.”

  “That girl has a name. That girl is someone I have grown up with since the day we were born,” I fire back.

  “And I think it is time you made new friends. Tonight, your father and I planned a party for next week. All of the eligible princes and all of society will be here except Lord Grimkael and Lady Sassa. The Karstens live with them, and we want nothing to do with those people. Remember—”

  “The Karstens and the Alands do not mix,” I mutter in unison with her. I’m getting so sick and tired of hearing about that stupid rivalry. My father brings it up at dinner at least once a week, going on and on about how the Karstens are thieves, and they don’t deserve to still be of the warrior bloodline.

  I’ve yet to understand the full rivalry. My father will not give me the full story. I honestly do not think he knows it. It’s been too long. This bad blood between the Karstens and the Alands happened years ago. My father, or his father, or
his father, hadn’t even been born yet. All the facts have been watered down over the years. It’s hard to believe anything that comes from my father’s mouth.

  It has something to do with a Karsten man stealing a woman away from an Aland man. In my opinion, it’s foolish. It has nothing to do with us anymore, but my parents hold on to the grudge. It drives them. It’s utterly annoying and equally as frustrating to hear. I honestly do not care about the bad blood, but the entire kingdom would know if Lord Grimkael came. He is the mightiest and fiercest of the Vikings. Rumors would spread, and it would make it seem like the Alands are in trouble. And that is a fire my father does not want to put out.

  “That’s right. I’m glad you know. Oh, darling, so many men shall be here fighting for your hand. Of course, this is just one of many parties.”

  Great. Internally, I roll my eyes. I hate parties.

  “You’ll tell us who you want at the next party, and we’ll invite them back to the castle. Hopefully you’ll find your husband. Oh, isn’t this wonderful, dear?”

  She gives me a hug from behind, wrapping her skinny arms around my chest and squeezing me. Her hair is saturated with her perfume. It smells of flowers and musk, and it’s so heavy it nearly chokes me. My eyes start to water.

  “No need to cry, dear. I know. It’s all so exciting. Right. I shall finish the preparations. You relax. You have a busy week ahead of you.”

  She leaves just as quickly as she arrived in my bedroom like a passing storm, leaving nothing but wreckage in her path.

  Sighing, I catch a glance at myself in the mirror and watch my hand tuck a piece of my red hair behind my ear. I look tired. Dark circles frame my eyes, and my skin seems paler than normal. I’m not as happy lately. My eyes are duller. My hair isn’t as shiny. I just do not want what my parents want for me, and it is making me depressed.

  I turn my head left and right and bring my hand up to my jaw, inspecting to see if I’m blemish free. My hair resembles a bush now that my curls are brushed out. This is why I never brush my hair. It makes me look a mess. Gathering the thick strands in my hand, I start a French braid and tie in the back with a piece of leather.