The Two Kings

by Marian Gray

  Svotheim’s head kicked back in a loud and long chuckle. “Those fights are the whole reason why Torram is famous. Why would he put an end to them?” His eyes lit up. “When the two brothers were younger, Erlend obviously drew the most attention. He’s the older of the pair and was first in line to receive his father’s seat. Most second sons tend to either enter the Temple or spend their every living second raiding and fucking, but Torram didn’t. Or rather, he couldn’t. So, he had to stay in the palace and show all the conniving and deceitful highborns that he wasn’t going to get pushed around. He did that through these feast brawls. He was unbeatable and quite a popular entertainer.

  “When I was just becoming a man, I remember hearing wild tales of the Prince. Torram is only a few years older than me, and I was incredibly envious of the legacy he was already carving out for himself. A second son with more fame than his brother. It was a fantasy. His father placed him on the battlefield early on, and the warriors followed the young man without question. They respected him because of his feast fights.” Svotheim shrugged. “I’ve heard the tradition is more alive now than it ever was. Every young man wants to be the next Torram the Rival—no one’s friend, and everyone’s adversary.”

  I sat up. “As marvelous a story as it is, please tell me you don’t intend on getting into any of these fights.”

  “Me? No.” He shook his head. There wasn’t an ounce of jest in his tone. “You, however—” He glanced up at me with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “I want you to engage. The women here are aggressive and territorial. They’ll be eager to fight a Varundian slave from Sairasee. We need to show them our strength and that we won’t be pushed around.”

  “What?” I sat up with a start. The sudden movement sent some of the water over the lip of the tub. “What do they gain from beating up a slave?”

  “Attention.” He said it as though the fact was obvious. “I am Ark Ulfur’s messenger, and you are just another able body here. This is the Rekke way. They don’t care if you’re a slave, just like they didn’t care that Torram was a prince.”

  The ache in my muscles returned, reminding me just how exhausted I was. Our voyage here had not been a merciful one and had rendered me spent. I still hadn’t fully recovered. The last thing I wanted was to wind up in a fistfight over pride and status.

  “And there’s another bit I think you should know before you sit at King Erlend’s table tonight.” A slight smirk slipped onto his lips. “These people are not shy when it comes to sex.”

  “Varundians aren’t either.”

  “We at least keep it behind closed doors. They’ll take each other in the hall during dinner if they so desire. It’s a bit of a game really. One party will try to dominate, and the other must fight them off.”

  “So, they rape each other for sport?”

  “It’s a gray area.” He sighed. “The only time I saw a woman adamant not to be mounted, she bloodied his face. Usually it’s just a show, play fighting. But you’ll see for yourself.”

  I swallowed hard. “Will I be expected to have sex with any of them?”

  “No, I don’t expect it. But you may if you’d like. It’s your body.”

  My back met the warm copper as I leaned back into my bath. His last three words washed over my mind, soaking them in. It was such a simple concept, but it struck me so strongly. It was my body. So why had I always believed I needed permission or approval to enjoy it?

  “So you don’t intend to use me to acquire men from King Erlend?”

  Svotheim’s back straightened, and his brow raised nearly to his hairline. His head whipped to the side and met my eyes in the mirror’s reflection.

  “What did I say?” My voice dropped to a soft whisper.

  “That’s it. I know how we can do it.”

  “Do what? Do you want me to sleep with one of the brothers?”

  “What?” His face contorted as though the idea were so strange and foreign. “No. The solution to our problem doesn’t lie with Erlend and Torram.” Svotheim rose from the stool. “Solvild told us, but I simply wasn’t listening. If we want Rekkesov’s soldiers, we need Rekkesov to not be preparing for war. We need their southern neighbor, Essony, to stop being aggressive. Essony is only acting like this because they have a new king. As soon as he’s eliminated, the Rekke are ours.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. Where was he going with this? “Are you going to try and play peacemaker? I’m not sure this southern king would even hold an audience with us.”

  Svotheim shook his head as the wooden floor creaked under his weight. His eyes were gleaming with thrill, and he folded his arms across his chest with a set determination. “I want you to kill the King of Essony.”

  XII

  Spilled Tales

  I laid with my hands behind my head atop the goose feather pillow. The bed wasn’t the most comfortable but far better than sleeping on the dirt floor. Brungen and Irska had been given their own beds out in the hall, leaving me alone in a small room, tucked in the upper corner.

  I had expected it to be drab, but it was rather pleasant being left alone with my own thoughts. It brought me back to simpler times, when all the world asked of me was to craft and sail in the summer. Now there was constantly someone at my side or a voice in my ear. Here, in this quiet solitary space, I could hear my own thoughts loud and clear.

  I repeated the words I would tell the thanes tomorrow and envisioned my path to success. I expected some pushback, especially from Athulf, but he would bend or I would break him. Brungen and Irska would support my endeavor and… and then…

  Her name stuck to my mind, blocking me from moving forward.

  My breath caught. What was I going to do with Irska?

  The only way to right this was to shower her with affection and sleep with her, but I couldn’t. It didn’t feel right. I knew it wouldn’t be genuine. I would be acting, pretending to love her. When the truth was…

  I sighed. How had this happened? How had the woman I had grown up with and chased after for years faded from my eyes? There was a time when she was all I could see. I had fallen in love with every inch of her and wanted nothing more than to wrap her in my arms. At night, I would replay her laugh in my mind, and during the day, I would be taken away by thoughts of her.

  She was everything to me, my equal and true half. The one I believed I was destined to marry and build a family with in this life cycle.

  Where did that go? Why was I indifferent when she walked into the room? Why did I ignore her when she spoke? Why did I tense when she touched me and push aside her affection?

  I didn’t know how to stop it. This decaying and corroding of my love for her had spiraled out of control. And all I wanted was for it to reverse, to go back to blissful serenity.

  But it was gone. I could feel the slow sorrowful drum in my heart, a death knell. It no longer beat for her.

  Someone else had come and quickened my pulse. They had turned my cheek and lifted my chin, steering my gaze away from Irska. Watching her from afar had breathed new life into my lungs, and when we were close…

  Gods, what had I done? Entertaining my infatuation had poisoned my relationship with Irska. What a stupid bastard I was. Othun have mercy.

  A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. “Yes?” I sat up and unsheathed the knife I had placed under the bed.

  “Thane Ristof sent me,” said a raspy, female voice.

  “Come in.”

  The door hinges creaked as she glided across the entrance. Her black eyes dripped down to the blade in my hand. “No need to be afraid.” Her accent was thick, but I couldn’t place it.

  I refused to put down my knife. “What is your name?”

  “Gisa.” She took a step closer, and the candlelight illuminated her youthful frame. She wore a simple robe and nothing else. Her dark hair had been woven in a loose braid that tumbled down her back. “I am a gift from Thane Ristof.” She sat at the end of the bed and stared at me, ignoring the weapon.

  She pl
aced a hand on my leg. “You do not need to fear me.” She shrugged the shoulders of her robe off, revealing the tops of her breasts and nipples. “I’m unarmed.” She split the bottom of the robe open, allowing me a full view of her bare legs.

  “And the inside of your robe?” I half-expected a hidden pocket just big enough to hold a vial of some lethal concoction.

  A wide grin spread across her lips as she held the garment out for me to inspect. “There’s nothing hiding in there, but this.” She ran a finger along her slit.

  The thought of taking her and fucking away my frustrations pummeled into me hard. But just as soon as the idea came, it fled.

  I didn’t want to have sex with Gisa.

  “Tell me how you want me to pleasure you.” She slipped the robe from her body and began to crawl along the bed toward me.

  I held out my hand, stopping her. “I’m sorry but I’m not…” I shook my head, glancing down at the knife in my hand. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “Oh.” She retracted. “I beg your forgiveness.” Her eyes dashed back and forth as she brought her arms back to cover her chest, her poise shattered. “I’m sorry I am not pleasing to you.”

  “It’s not that.” I sighed, exasperated. The quickest way to smash a woman’s confidence was to reject her sexual advances. And that’s not what I was trying to do here. “You are a very beautiful woman. Please, don’t be insulted.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Nothing that I can speak about.” I wasn’t about to feed my personal turmoil to Ristof’s slave for her to run off and peep them into his ear. “But as I said, it’s not you—you are a very lovely woman.”

  She returned to the edge of the bed, picking up her robe. “Do you prefer men? Is that it? If so, you don’t need to be embarrassed about it around me. I honestly only prefer women.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Then would you like me to send someone else?”

  “No, I don’t want to have sex with anyone tonight.” It was the truth, but saying it aloud made me feel both free and disappointed at the same time.

  “Why not?” she asked as she slid her robe back on. “Is everything alright?”

  I eyed her for a moment as an idea swirled in my head. “Actually, I wonder if you can help me with something. Where are you from, Gisa?”

  Her brow lifted, curious. “A land far from here to the northeast—the same as Thane Athulf. Why do you ask?” But she didn’t give me a chance to answer. “To be honest, I don’t remember much of it. I was sold to the Norrender when I was a young girl.”

  Perhaps instead of using her body, I could use her mind. Being a slave in Ristof’s hall had to come with some inside knowledge of those ruling in this area. Whatever I might learn from her could potentially help me in my uphill battle tomorrow.

  “The tribes?”

  She nodded.

  “What do you know of Athulf?”

  Gisa shrugged. “A couple things most don’t.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Which are?”

  Her gaze locked on to me, but she didn’t utter a word. Instead, a small smirk slid across her lips.

  Secrets were rarely free. I sighed. “How much do you want?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want gold. What good does that do me as a slave?”

  “Then what?”

  “Your knife.”

  Most masters didn’t allow their slaves weapons, especially in halls. “If I give you this knife, how do I know you won’t slit my throat?”

  “You don’t really.”

  I rose from the bed and walked to my leathers. They rested upon a chair in the corner, with my sword laying atop them. I grabbed the blade, and then tossed the knife on the bed. “Now, mine’s bigger.”

  She snatched the knife like a dog with a bone and admired the metal. Her lungs drew in a deep breath and held before releasing. She was trying to calm herself. If she had been sold as a girl, I doubt she had ever held a knife before outside the kitchen.

  “And now you’re part of the bargain.” With careful steps, I returned to the bed. Both hands were kept on my sword.

  She tucked the knife away into her robe and leaned back on her elbows, draping her figure across the furs. “Well, Athulf’s mother was married off to the thane of Hrafna. It was supposed to be a marriage that brought peace, but her brother was not happy with the arrangement. After six months, he took his forces and swept through Hrafna. He ended up killing the thane, taking the throne, and marrying his sister. A year later, Athulf was born. But Athulf and the rest of Hrafna claim his father was the late Thane that died.”

  I stared at her, not knowing how to reply. Athulf was an illegitimate ruler. Children of incest weren’t recognized by our laws.

  “I was just as surprised when I heard.”

  I rubbed my jaw, mulling over what to say next. “How did you come upon this?”

  She eyed me as though I should have already known the answer. “I am handed out to all the thanes when they visit Lungdal. I am told things.”

  Which were repeated to Ristof no doubt. “Then you must know quite a bit about what goes on across the region.”

  “You could say that.” Gisa grinned. She knew there was a motive lingering behind that statement. “I’ll answer another question.”

  “I sent out a summons for seven thanes but only six arrived and I was advised to ignore this.” But I couldn’t. “What do you know of the thane who ignored my request? The one they claim is a spade—which is impossible, since men are never chosen to be spades.”

  “Thane Oskar.” She nodded her understanding. “He’s the one you’re talking about. And they weren’t lying to you. I’ve been to his village, Torvik, and I’ve seen him perform magic.”

  “How is that possible?” Had everyone here lost their capacity to reason and think? Even before the Temple of Askaden was built, we knew that only women were born spades. This is how it was and had always been.

  “I have no idea, but he does possess powers.” Gisa’s eyes floated to the ceiling as her mind sank in thought. “They’re different, though—unusual.”

  “In what way?”

  “I’ve seen the spade Berit out in the east perform magic, and as I said, it was different. Thane Oskar’s magic is weaker but also more… wild. It’s this element of unpredictability that makes everyone fearful.”

  “Huh.” I stroked the stubble along my chin. I was beyond intrigued.

  I knew there was no way this thane was a spade. Even if the gods decided to bend the rules and gift their powers to a man—he wasn’t the next one. I knew who the next spade was, and she was serving a shipbuilder in Varund.

  And gods be good—I missed that woman.

  “What are you thinking?” Gisa asked as her stare fell upon me.

  My hand fell into my lap, resting on the sword again. “Nothing.” It was a very bad idea, but I couldn’t help myself.

  I was going to have to pay the magical Oskar a visit and see for myself.

  XIII

  To Conquer

  The tall slender doors glided open without making a single sound. “King Erlend of Rekkesov and Prince Torram,” a servant announced.

  We rose from our seats as the pair sauntered into the lesser throne room. Erlend was once again draped in finery. His white tunic was hemmed with gold stitching, and jewels poured from his neck. The audacious outfit made Torram look like a mere commoner. It was obvious from his puce-colored tunic and plain brown trousers that the prince preferred to dress down, but the material was perfectly woven and stitched. It was far superior quality than what one would find in an everyday market.

  I wasn’t nearly as nervous as I had expected myself to be. My heart didn’t bounce around my chest, and my breath was calm. I felt a weird ease because I already knew the answer we would receive. If Solvild’s information proved to be worth anything, no matter what he did, Erlend’s answer would be ‘no’.

  “Please, sit,” King Erlend said as he relaxed in h
is cushioned chair. “And thank you for waiting. I trust your stay here has been comfortable thus far.”

  “No need to thank us,” Svotheim said as we lowered back into our simple wooden seats. “I understand you are very busy, and we’ve enjoyed our stay here. Your palace is lovely, and your servants have all been very kind.”

  Torram’s gaze fixed on us. It was cold and calculating. His muscle-toned body lounged in his seat with his legs splayed comfortably. The juxtaposition of the two brothers was intriguing. They were like fire and ice. Despite Erlend’s heavier weight, he still managed to sit with more poise. A bright smile rested on his face. His eyes held nothing but warmth and welcome. He was lightness, and Torram was darkness.

  “I’m glad you have been treated well. Now, why does Ark Ulfur send his great shipbuilder, Svotheim the Second of Varund, to Rekkesov?” The king’s gaze turned to me as his hand drifted to his beard and wrapped a few curls around his finger. “And who is your companion? My steward has told me her name but not much else.”

  Torram glanced at his brother. “She’s the one that the priests hailed at the Temple during the Festival of Nine.”

  “Oh?” King Erlend’s brow raised. “Is she now?”

  “Yes,” Svotheim answered. “Derethe is my slave that I acquired during our raid across the Yearbyen Sea.”

  “Interesting.” Erlend leaned forward for a better look. “Well, she’s quite a prize, no?” He chuckled and slapped his brother’s shoulder.

  Torram was unmoved.

  “So.” Erlend’s fingers rounded up to twist and fidget in his beard once more. “What does Ark Ulfur desire so badly that he sends his cherished boat-maker along with a Temple-hailed slave?”

  Svotheim glanced at me before he spoke. There was an anxious flicker in his eyes. “To put it plainly, we have recently fought a rather diminishing war with the late Ark Godromar. He began the assault with a surprise attack that maimed our numbers and destroyed our boats. We have put an end to him, but it has cost us. We have come to the great city of Rekkesov for boats, men, and a commander.” He glanced at Torram. “In return, your people shall sail with us, learn how to cross the great sea, and take all the spoils that they reap.”