Vikings' Brides Box Set

by Jessica Knight

  He looks how I feel. Tired and depressed. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his beard seems longer, a bit unmanageable. He doesn’t get off his horse like I expect him to. I imagined him becoming frustrated waiting for me. I imagined he would burst through the castle doors to throw me over his shoulder. Instead, he gives me my space. Something I never thought he would do.

  He lowers his chin, giving me a slight nod, as if he can hear my thoughts. He tugs on his horse’s reins, and the beast turns left until all I can see is the wide expanse of his back, moving further away from me. I place my palm on the window, wishing he would stay. I never knew loving someone so much would hurt so dearly.

  Once he is far enough away, he is simply a dot on the horizon. I want to pound my fist against the window until it shatters and call out for him, but my damned pride stops me. I’ve loved this man for as long as I can remember, and I can’t seem to get over his lie. Maybe I need more time. I hope that’s all it is because I’ve lived twelve years without him, and those twelve years were the hardest years of my life—for many reasons.

  I do not want to be without him for another twelve years. I want—no—I need to learn to accept what has been done, so I can be with Beowulf again. We have been through so much. I’ve been through so much. I’ve endured whips, chains, knives, and starvation. I convinced myself I would never see anyone I loved ever again. And here I am, in love with the man that kept me alive all those years. I didn’t give up on him then, I shouldn’t give up on him now.

  What’s in the past must stay there. I’ve known for a long time that life without my father would be better, but life without Beowulf is no life at all. With the new revelation, I sit on the bed, emotions churning wildly. I start threading the needle through the shirt again. My hands are shaking; my nerves are getting the best of me. I know if I finish this and give it back to Beowulf, it is a sign of hope.

  With a few accidental pricks on my finger from the needle, I literally pour blood, sweat, and tears into perfecting the small shirt for Rian. I know he must know by now that his parents are dead. That only gives me more determination to finish what I’ve started. Sure, Beowulf can buy him clothes, but this is something entirely different. This is made with love.

  Love for Beowulf. Love for Rian. Love for my family. Beowulf has been the only family I’ve ever really had and needed. To turn my back on him now, while he did something he had to do to protect me, would be the biggest mistake I could make in this second chance life has given me.

  A knock at the door sounds again, and this time when I open it, no one is there. I glance down to see a bundle of wildflowers at my feet with a note perched against them. I can tell the writing is Beowulf’s. It’s messy. I remember trying to teach him every day how to make his handwriting neater, but nothing ever worked. His hands are so big; they swallow the quill as he writes.

  I bend over and bring the flowers to my nose, inhaling the sweet scent. He must have travelled for flowers because the winter should have killed them all by now. The fact that he did that for me makes me unfold the parchment with newfound excitement.

  The message is simple.

  Angel,

  I love you more than the flowers love the sun.

  −Wulf

  “Cannot stand it that he calls himself that,” I mutter to myself. His name defines him; it is strong and gallant. I can never get enough of hearing it.

  “Oh, I love you too, Beowulf. If you only knew that you are my sun.”

  When I decide to leave the castle, I intend to make sure that is the first thing I tell him. I want him to know just how much I love him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Beowulf

  “Come on, Lord Grimkael. It’s been three and a half weeks. I want to be able to talk to her.”

  Lord Grimkael crosses his arms over his chest, widening his stance to block the entryway. “Sorry, Wulf. I can’t allow it.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” I ask, getting irritated. I know she wants to see me. I feel it. Every day that has gone by, right before I have the gift delivered to her door, we watch each other through the window, and it lasts longer and longer every time. I’ve left flowers, books, furs, meat, fruit. I’ve written love letters for the first time in my life. It’s a bit embarrassing to think about, but I will do anything for her.

  Some of those letters may or may not involve me saying what I want to do to her hot little body.

  “Both. Sassa says no. I listen to Sassa. She runs this. If she is happy, I am happy, and that means the kingdom is happy. Sorry, Wulf. If she wants to talk, she’ll find you.”

  “Fuck.” I run my fingers through my hair and spin around on my heel. It’s been long enough. I’m sick of this shite. I’m about to take her over my shoulder and run away with her. I’m sick of giving her space. I know her. She is stubborn, and that’s the only reason why she hasn’t come down from that tower.

  I’m giving her three more days. After that, I’m throwing her stubborn arse over my shoulder and taking her back home. A home that I’ve expanded the last few weeks that she has been gone.

  It’s been hard with Rian. My schedule has changed, and with her in the castle, away from us, finding how to take care of a little boy with a gentle finesse has been difficult, to say the least. She wanted to stay with Rian and watch him, and considering he doesn’t have a mother anymore, he needs that.

  Telling him his parents weren’t coming back because they died was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. He is too young to understand death. He asks me every day when they are coming home, and every day I sit him down and tell him they aren’t. It’s a constant time loop of pain, and it is pure torture. I need Lilith back. I need her to help me because I’m out of my element, and I have no idea what I’m doing with Rian.

  Right now, he is with Trident, doing goddess knows what. I love Trident, but for all I know, he is teaching Rian how to chug a goblet full of mead. If it wasn’t for Trident, these last few weeks would have been so much harder, but it was—is—important to me to give Lilith the space she needs. She had my lie to deal with, the real way her father died, and maybe taking on a four-year-old child. It’s a big change in someone’s life. I never expected she would just nod her head and accept it, even though I hoped she would.

  I think she has accepted it, though. Now the hard-headed little minx is just giving me a run for my sanity.

  “Wait, Wulf!” Lord Grimkael shouts after me, right as my hand lands on the horn of the saddle.

  I turn my head over my shoulder and lift a brow, wondering what else he could tell me.

  “I forgot to give this to you.” He tosses something in the air, and my hands shoot out to catch it before it hits the ground. “Compliments of your lady.” Lord Grimkael departs with a knowing smirk.

  Confused, I unfold the material in my hand. I can’t help but to imagine the worst. My heart soars when I see what it is. It’s a shirt. It’s a fucking shirt. It’s the shirt she was working on for Rian. She finished it.

  “Yes! Fuck yes!” I shout, pumping my fist in the air in celebration. I know exactly what this means. It’s hope. Pure fucking hope, and I’m going to make the kid wear this shirt every damn day.

  I look up to her bedroom window and see her staring at me with a big smile on her face before turning around and disappearing.

  Oh, I’m coming for her. She is mine. I hope she knows her days are numbered at the castle. Three days. Countdown begins. I’ve already given her too much time already. I should have taken her back to the cabin already.

  But my happiness is cut short when the horn from the south wall rips through the air. I grab a hold of Dire’s mane and pull myself up, swinging my leg over his back. Lord Grimkael runs out of the castle, his hand at his sword.

  He points to me. “Go, Wulf! Go. I’ll meet you there. Hurry!” he shouts before running to the side of the castle where Beast, his horse, is.

  I nod, kicking Dire in the sides. He rears his two massive front legs in
the air, neighing to the goddess. I steal a quick glance at the window and see Lilith. Her hands are against the glass, and she is shaking her head, telling me not to go.

  But I have no choice. I must ride to protect her. To fight for her.

  And I shall win.

  Dire falls to his front legs and takes off before I can tell Lilith that I love her. A twinge of sadness floods through me, but it’s soon replaced with hope. I shall tell her soon, victorious upon my return.

  Dire’s legs carry me further away from Lilith and closer to the danger threatening the kingdom. Branches whip me in the face, and the cold air dries my lips. The large stone wall comes into view, and warriors are sliding down ropes from the top.

  Not waiting for Dire to come to a complete stop, I hop off and let him wander on his own. “What’s going on? Who sounded the horn?”

  “Abram,” Trident explains.

  Wait, Trident. “Where is Rian?” I ask and start to panic. He can’t be on his own. He is too young.

  “Your Lady has him. I made sure he was safe. I handed him off to Lady Sassa, who said he would be looked after. Don’t worry. He is in good hands.”

  Thank goddess. The Ladies have him. Damn, he will probably never want to come back home with me once he gets a woman’s nurturing.

  “Thank you.” I place my hands on my hips and took a look around. Warriors have their bows drawn, aiming them at whatever lies beyond the wall. “What’s going on? Why did he sound the horn?”

  “We have a Jackal on the other side seeking sanctuary. A young boy. He must be even younger than Abram.”

  “A decoy? Must be. It is exactly what they would do. They want us to be off guard when they attack.”

  Trident rubs his hand over his face, thinking about what I just said. “I don’t know. The kid looks pretty beat up like he just escaped hell. He says he knows Lilith.”

  “What?” I snap at him, grabbing a rope to start pulling myself up the tall stone. Plastering my feet against the wall, I use the strength of my arms and climb. Sweat is dripping down my face by the time I get to the top. Abram is the only one in the tower, but the Warriors have lined each side of it with their bows. I can’t believe Warlord Einarr let his son take over watch. Unless…

  “Does your father know you are here?” I ask as I bring myself over the wall.

  “No. I didn’t expect to actually blow the horn. I just want to make myself useful,” Abram says.

  “He shall be here any minute. I got it from here. Go.”

  “But—”

  “I said go!” I roar, snatching the horn from his hand. “You could have gotten yourself killed. You are not ready for this.”

  “I would be if you would train me!” He stomps his foot. He actually stomps his foot like a child. But he still doesn’t realize his newfound strength. Not yet.

  Twigs snap on the other side where the Jackal is, and I push Abram behind my back to protect him. The last thing I need is for the Warlord’s son to get killed on my watch. Einarr would have my head.

  “State your name and what you want,” I order the stranger.

  He has his hands lifted as he comes closer. I can actually see him now. He is bruised and bleeding, no shoes on his feet, and his right eye is swollen. His blonde hair is matted with muck and blood. His shirt is torn. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

  This boy is no threat. Without our help, he will die.

  “Son of a bitch,” I sigh, grabbing a rope from a bucket and toss it over. “Abram, tell your father to have Leiva ready. This boy needs medical attention.”

  “Yes, sir,” he scurries back and slides down the rope, disappearing from sight.

  The rope tugs again, and soon Trident has taken Abram’s place, lifting his bushy brows as I make my way down the wall. “Wulf! You think I’m going to let you go without backup.”

  “He is just a boy. I don’t need backup,” I grumble, ignoring the look on his face that says he doesn’t believe me.

  Once I’m halfway down, I let go of the rope and jump. My feet hit the ground with a hard thud, and I keep my hand at my sword, just in case Trident is right.

  “What’s your name, boy?” I ask, taking a slow step forward. The closer I get, the more I see just how miserable the boy is. He smells of sweat and urine. Tears have left clean rivers on his face, cutting through the dried blood and dirt on his face.

  “Alaric, sir,” his tired voice shakes. “Please, don’t hurt me. Please. I mean you no harm. I just want to rest. I’ll be on my way. Please, don’t kill me.” He begs for his life and falls on his knees. “All I ask is that if you do, you kill me now and let it be quick. I’m tired of suffering, sir.”

  Fucking hell, I’ve turned into a big pile of mush. Why do I care? The old me would have not trusted this boy, and I would have given him exactly what he is asking me for, but Lilith deserves a kinder man than that. So I must ask myself what she would do. “What’s your last name?”

  He lifts his eyes from the ground and fresh tears well in his eyes. “Last name?”

  “Aye, who do you belong to?”

  “No one. I have no last name.”

  Goddess. Children who don’t have a last name are considered a disease. They have a stigma that if no one wanted them, there must be a good reason. “Why?”

  “I’ve never known my parents. I only remember the Jackals. I won’t bother you. I promise.”

  I know promises mean nothing, but he doesn’t. He is too young. He may have experienced the worst of life, but there is still an innocence about him that lets him think a man’s word, a promise, actually means something.

  “How do you know Lilith?” I kneel in front of him, and his eyes widen when he sees how close my blade is to him. His lips are cracked and bleeding, and his tongue flicks out to try and give them lubrication, but he winces. If he doesn’t die from his injuries, the cold will take him soon.

  “She was in the cell next to me. I’ve known her since I was seven.”

  “Goddess since you were seven? How did you know she was here? Who sent you?” I place the tip of my sword against his throat.

  “I didn’t know where else to go. I heard them saying they dropped her here and that somehow she lived. One of the Jackals slipped up and got too drunk and passed out near my cage. I grabbed the keys, and I ran here.”

  “You know where they live? You know how to get there? Could you draw a map?” I ask as fast I can, excitement taking over. This is our chance. This is how we can beat them and wipe them off the map.

  “Aye, I can. I’ll do anything you want. I just want to see Lilith again. Is she okay? Is she… dead?”

  “She is—” but the boy’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and his body falls limp to the ground. I grab his head right before it smashes against a rock.

  “Fuck.” I sweep my eyes around the woods to make sure we are alone. A part of me doesn’t trust this kid, but like the mad fool idiot I am, I’m going to take his promise and believe him.

  When I see that we are safe, I throw his body over my shoulder and make my way to the rope. I start to wonder how this village has gone from royalty, to Viking, to a haven for people running from Jackals.

  Times are changing. And I have a feeling that change isn’t going to come easy.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lilith

  Watching Beowulf go running into danger makes everything fall into perspective. What if something happens to him and he can’t come home? What if he dies? I clutch my hand over my heart at the thought of it. I must get my head on straight. At some point, he and I have been playing a game to see who would break first and go running into the others arms. Both of us are too stubborn for our own good—something must give.

  And I want it to be me.

  “Lilif?”

  I smile at Rian, who is staring at me with tired eyes. He can’t pronounce my name, and it is the cutest thing I have ever heard.

  “Yes, sweetheart?” I bend down to his level and push his hair out
of his face. Those curls only make him cuter. He has all the women around here wrapped around his finger. And he knows it.

  “Can I have some food? I’m hungry,” he asks, yawning.

  “How about you take a nap first, and then we shall eat?” He just had a bowl of a stew, so I know he isn’t that hungry.

  He nods, rubbing his eyes with his tiny fist. “Is Uncle Woof coming back? I miss him.” His bottom lip trembles. “I want my mommy.” Fat tears start to roll down his sweet face, and it causes a lump to swell in my throat.

  Oh, goddess. My eyes burn, but I stay strong. He doesn’t need me to fall apart. Rian needs someone to be strong for him. I bring him into my arms and let him cry on my shoulder. His face settles in the crook of my neck, and his tears wet my skin. “I know you do, sweetheart. I know.”

  “Where is she? Where is my daddy?” he wails. “I want them!”

  He screams and tries to fight his way out of my hold. It breaks me. I wish I could give him what he wants, but all I can do is be there for him now and be there through his pain.

  After several minutes of this, he finally loses steam and droops low. I pick him up, resting his head on my shoulder and perching him on my hip. Bouncing him a bit, I pace the bedroom floor until his breaths are even. I should put him down on the bed, but my arms won’t listen to my brain to release him. I want him to feel loved. I want this little boy to know he has people in his life that care.

  “Beowulf is back. He is in the medical corridor.”

  I pause mid-step and stare at Lady Sassa. I try and remain calm. I have a four-year-old in my arms, and children have a way of picking up on emotions. Waking him is the last thing I want to do. The walls around me feel like they are closing in. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.