“I’m a fool. I’m going mad for a man I don’t even know,” I say out loud to myself. Maybe repeating it like this will help me.
It’s probably because I’ve ever even been close to a man, and the one time I am, I get attached and obsessed like some little girl with a crush.
It’s ridiculous.
I kick a few pebbles in my path, dust puffing into a cloud around me. The leaves rustle from the disturbance of the breeze, and it carries just a hint of salt in the air. That is the only reason I have not left. I can’t imagine not being near the ocean. It’s the only place that makes me feel safe. It’s my home. Not the castle, not this village, not the wealth, but the ocean.
It’s my escape. If I leave, where shall I go when I need to run again?
“Where have you been?” my mother’s voice shrills at a pitch so high it makes my ears ring.
“I went for a walk. That’s all. Father lifted the ban on my room. I wanted some fresh air.”
“Well, you have a lot of making up to do, young lady. Missing that party after all the hard work your father put into it. You should be ashamed,” she tsks, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me back inside. It’s warmer, and the goosebumps on my skin recede, adjusting to the new temperature.
But I’m not ashamed. I don’t feel an ounce of remorse.
Our footsteps echo off the long, dark hallway. Old paintings hang on the wall of all the previous Alands. They all look stiff, and in every single painting, they are in the same position. The man and woman are seated, and their children are standing behind them with their hands on their parents’ shoulders. No smiles. No signs of happiness. It’s supposed to have a regal appeal to it, but to me, it just looks depressing.
“You shall sit down and write to everyone who came to the party a letter saying how sorry you are.”
Or how sorry I’m not.
“Do you understand?” she asks, tugging my arm a bit harder than usual.
“I don’t understand the desperation to marry me off. Why can’t I find someone on my own time? Why must I marry someone according to your fancy? I’m not interested in any of those men. I just want to live my life.”
My mother spins on her heel and slaps me across the face. I whimper, holding my cheek with my palm.
“Do you think I care? You ungrateful little brat. Your father and I have done everything for you. Everything. The least you could do is do this for us. We need this. Do you understand? We need you to do this. It’s why—” but she catches herself, rolling her lips together to seal the words inside her mouth, so they stay on the tip of her tongue. “Just stop being ungrateful and do it.”
Tears well my eyes as she latches her fingers around my wrist again. The hold is tight, and my bone starts to throb from the force of her grip. “You’re hurting me,” I tell her.
“You’ll get over it.”
This isn’t like my mother. Sure, my parents have always been sticklers when it came to the rules, but they have never been mean or cruel. Emotionally abusive? Yes. Physically abusive? No, never. I’ve never not felt safe with them, but as of right now, that has changed. They are desperate, and they are using me. I’m leverage for something.
The main room comes to view, and candles are lit in the massive space. The wooden table is covered in food. Fruits, vegetables, meats, and wine. My father is at the head of the table. His silver hair gleams in the low light of the candlewicks burning. Large chunks of meat roll in his mouth as he chews. Pieces of the turkey are stuck in his beard. The sight makes my lips curl in disgust.
“Sit,” he spews his chewed-up food as he speaks, waving the half-eaten drumstick.
My mother pulls out a wooden chair, causing it to scratch along the floor, and I plop down in the hard seat. I clear my throat to relieve the awkward silence filled only by my father’s annoyingly loud chewing. My mother slaps a quill on the table along with ink and parchment.
“You’ve disgraced our family, Sylvie. I’m quite disappointed in you,” he finally mutters before chasing the meat down with a gulp of wine. I cringe when it drips from the corners of his mouth, decorating his graying beard along with bits of meat.
I swallow thickly, knowing anything I say won’t matter. I can feel everyone’s gaze on me, but I keep my eyes glued to the middle of the table. The guards are staring at me, and my mother moves her bottom jaw left and right, as if the anger is too hard to contain.
“We have let you gallivant with that girl you call a friend. You’ve missed parties. We know you climb out your window and go to the beach. We aren’t as stupid as you take us for.” My father stabs the vegetables with his knife.
Oh, goddess. My throat is suddenly dry, and a cold sweat breaks over my entire body. My heart bangs against my chest, thumping my blood with nerves. My palms become sweaty, and the quill keeps slipping out of my fingers.
“For all of your discrepancies, you shall marry the man we choose for you. Is that understood?”
I shake my head, hot tears threatening my eyes. I set my jaw and scoff. “No. I’m not marrying a man you choose. I’d rather run than do that. I can’t believe you wouldn’t want more for me. I’m a smart woman. Yes, I go to the beach. Yes, I hang out with Aya, but she is a good person. I don’t commit crimes. You act as if I’m a wild woman. I am not,” I defend myself, scratching my nails on the table.
I’m doing my best to get a hold of myself, but my anger is boiling. I am astounded by them right now. These are not my parents. They have never been so forceful.
“You shall do what we say, or you will never receive a dime.”
“Then I’d rather be poor.”
“No daughter of mine is going to be poor,” he says, red−faced as he narrows his eyes at me.
“Then maybe I’m no daughter of yours,” I sneer.
And if that doesn’t earn me banishment, I don’t know what will.
Chapter Nine
Trident
The morning sun peeks through the window, causing me to stir. The taste of revenge is bitter in my mouth still, overpowering the typical morning breath. This past week was a complete disaster. When I returned from the border, barely hanging onto Snow, I ignored everyone’s shouts of protest when I decided to ignore the medical wing and go straight to Lord Grimkael. This couldn’t wait.
I had a day and a half journey to read the scroll. I didn’t consider it an invasion of privacy because I am a Karsten, and I needed to know what was going on. Come to find out; the Alands are demanding money from that silly incident so many years ago. I thought that rivalry was dead, but apparently, it is very much alive.
This is what happened. Many years ago, my great-great-great-grandfather fell in love with a woman who should have never belonged to him. He was a warrior; she was a princess arranged to be married to an Aland Lord. She chose a life with my ancestor, and the Karstens ended up with a bit of money since she was well off. She did lose her title and was banished from her home for falling in love with someone she shouldn’t have. She gave it all up for love. I found it brave and courageous, but the Alands being who they are, well, they have been money hungry ever since.
They are threatening war if we do not return the money owed, plus interest. Goddess, how pathetic does someone have to be to still hold on to a grudge like that? Lord Grimkael was furious. Not only did he want blood for the injuries sustained to me, but he was angry that he knew nothing about this feud, so he called my father to the kingdom to get the full story. I knew, but again, stories passed on generation after generation tend to change.
Lord Grimkael was not happy in the slightest and is planning a trip to make a visit to the Alands. Unannounced. Before he does that though, I’m going to make sure the war doesn’t happen by gaining leverage. I know Lord Aland has a daughter. And in order to stop this madness, I intend to make a trade. Her life, to stop the feud and hopefully the war the Alands promised.
Is it smart? No. I’m not typically a man who does this sort of thing, but I’ll do anything to protect m
y family. Anything. And if that means kidnapping a sweet little princess, then that is what it means. It won’t be easy, but I have a feeling, things will be able to get settled if the Alands care for their little girl’s life.
Yanking the fur blanket off my body, I sit up and rub my eyes with my fingers, wondering if I’ve gone mad. The one thing I’m wondering is when I go to the Alands, if I’ll see Sylvie again. After she realizes what I’m doing, I’m sure she will want nothing to do with me, but it is worth getting one last look at the woman that is prettier than a million sunrises and sunsets.
“I’ve gone mad,” I mutter, brushing my hand over my face. When I stand, my knees pop, and my shoulder still aches dully. I glance down, seeing the purple and black discoloration around my ribs. They are so tender. It hurts to breathe in, but nothing can be done for broken ribs except giving them time to heal.
I have no time to give. I must figure out my plan. The Alands have already made their first move, and now I’m about to counter. I wager they think Karstens are cowards, but they can just wait until they are missing what they hold near and dear to their hearts. I can’t believe Lord Aland had the nerve to send his men after me and then threatening my father and my home? Nay, no one will get away with that.
I lean against the counter, staring at myself in the broken mirror on the wall. Is this the kind of man I want to be? I think of Aland bringing his warriors here and killing my family, and my fingers grip the wooden shelf so hard it snaps it in half.
Aye, I am this kind of man.
I set my jaw in pure determination, tie my hair back with a leather strip, and put my armor on. Piece by piece, the iron weighs me down more and more. I strap my sword to my hip and prepare a few bags with essentials. Food, water, clothes, and extra furs just in case it gets cold.
“What are you doing?”
I close my eyes and exhale an annoyed breath when I hear Wulf’s voice. “Nothing to concern yourself over.”
“Trident. You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”
“Nope.”
“You need to think about this, Trident. You have no idea what you are getting yourself into.”
“Wulf, I love you like a brother, but this has nothing to do with you. The less you know, the better.” I throw my bag over my shoulder and stride toward the door. Wulf doesn’t move. He stands there, arms crossed, and it doesn’t look like he is going to get out of the way.
“Wulf,” I warn, lowering my voice to a deepening threat.
“Trident, you fool,” he whispers. “Let me go with you.”
“No.” I place my hand on his shoulder and lock eyes with him, earnest and desperate for him to listen to me. “Please. You have a family. You have children and a wife. If something happens to me—” I swallow, not wanting to think about the people I’d be leaving “—They will get over it.”
Wulf’s hands land on my chest, and he pushes me out the door, his jaw ticking, and his face burning red.
“You damn fool,” he spits. “You think no one will miss you. You don’t think you have a family? We are family.” He motions between us. “My kids are your family. If anything happens to you, we will be distraught. What about your parents?”
I thought I was desperate, but the look in Wulf’s eyes only makes the uncertainty in my belly swirl with guilt. “I’m your family,” he rasps, banging his hand on his chest.
“I know that,” I nod. “I know.”
“Don’t do this. Whatever you are thinking, there is another way.”
“There is no other way. Believe me, brother. I don’t wish to involve you in this, aye? I want to protect you. You’re better off not knowing.”
“Goddess, Trident. Don’t make me stop you.”
“I’d like for you to try.” I spin on my heels and run, bolting in the direction of the port where we keep our ships.
“Trident!” Wulf calls after me. His feet pound against the earth behind me, fueling me in to going faster.
I pump my legs and arms, sprinting across the lavender fields until I hit the treeline. Branches slap me in the face, the leaves scratching roughly against my skin. The humidity in the air makes it hard to drag in a breath, but it isn’t just the air making it difficult. My ribs are screaming. The pain is nearly unbearable, but I must keep pushing.
The advantage I have on Wulf is that I’m a bit smaller, so I’m quicker than he is.
“Trident!”
My name is more distant than it was the first time he called out for me.
The river comes into view, roaring and menacing, splashing against the riverbank. If I miss, I’ll get swept away, but if I make it across, I’ll be on my way to the ocean, devising a plan to kidnap Lord Aland’s daughter.
I only have a moment to hesitate before I need to jump over the river. I either stop now or never.
“Don’t you dare jump over that!” Wulf’s voice is more distant now.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper before placing my foot on the edge of the bank, launching myself with all of the momenta I built up while running. For a moment, I am suspended in air, stretching with all my might.
My legs swing in the air as I reach for the other side. I land roughly but force my feet to stay together. I spread my arms out and turn them in small circles to try and balance myself. I’m one gust of wind away from falling into the water. I push myself forward, putting my hands out to catch my fall. The dirt is muddy, and the leaves are mush, being this close to the river. I suppose it is better than being in the river.
I nearly slip once, then twice, but eventually, I stabilize myself.
“You stupid son of a bitch!” Wulf yells from the other side.
I don’t look back. I only keep my eyes forward. If I see Wulf’s face, I’ll see disappointment, and that’s something I can’t handle from him right now. I must get the girl. I must settle this feud before it becomes a war.
When I don’t hear Wulf behind me anymore, I stop running, letting my hand fall to my side as I gasp for air. I lean against a tree for support, the bark scratching my neck. The perfume of the forest is strong, causing my head to throb. The slight salt hanging in the air reminds me how close I am to the shore. I can’t give up now.
I groan, lifting my leg up to get a firm grip on the tree before I push myself off, nearly collapsing from the pain.
“No, not yet,” I grit through clenched teeth. I’m too close. I drag my feet, sweating, and wincing with every step. The dirt under my feet turns to sand, and the sound of waves crashing fills the silence besides my own heavy breaths.
A few ships are tied to heavy logs, slightly bouncing from the tides. My eyes land on the smallest ship. More of a boat, really. For only me and one other person, it would be perfect. It has a cabin, and the bow and stern are long enough to cut through traitorous waves. I fall to my knees in front of the rope, and with my good arm, I untie the knot, my vision blurring from the pain. Not yet. I can’t succumb to darkness when I’m so close.
I grit my teeth and drag the rope to the boat. I lift myself with one arm, darkness edging my vision each time I lift my body up the rope. The wood is slick from the waves slamming against the boat, rocking me side to side. Salt gets in my eyes, and my hair sticks to my face. I spit out the ocean water, cringing every time the waves jostle me.
Finally, after what seems like hours, and once my good hand is raw, I flop to the deck on my back and try and take a breather. The boat starts to float away from the shore since it isn’t tied anymore. I know I need to steer the boat, but right now, I don’t really care where I go. I know the Baltic sea will naturally take me south, which is where I need to go.
Darkness creeps in closer. I let the pain take me, but not before I feel a smile twinge my lips. Victory shall be mine.
A voice in the back of my head tells me this won’t end well. My morals are shouting at me to stop this madness and let us settle this issue in battle, but something else, a gut feeling is telling me to go for another reason. I’m not sure what
it is or why, but revenge isn’t the only thing leading me, driving me, feeding me.
Whatever it is, wherever this path leads me, I shall be ready. Sometimes the wrong thing to do, is the only thing to do. Whether this path leads me to my future or my demise, I will take it like a Viking. Like the warrior I am.
The princess better be ready because I’m coming for her.
Chapter Ten
Sylvie
“Goddess, you have got to be kidding me,” I mumble to myself as I scan the extravagant ballroom, watching the men that have come to ask for my hand talk to one another. I may or may not be watching for a hidden crook in the corner. It’s dark and a bit musty with cobwebs, but I’d rather risk getting bit by an eight-legged demon than walk out onto that floor. It’s as though I’m some prized possession, and it irks me.
The hum of the conversation is loud. It looks like everyone has a lot to say. I pause on the dozen or men that are here for me. All of them are so… neat. Nothing about them is impressive. They look like they have soft hands. Their hair, goddess, it’s neatly parted, and their faces are freshly shaven. I cannot imagine myself with any of these men. But I must make an effort before I make my parents angrier than they already are.
Taking a deep breath, I take a step out of the shadows and plaster a fake smile on my face. Everyone stops speaking, and the men start to come up to me one by one, bringing my hand to their lips to kiss it.
“Lady Sylvie, you look beautiful,” the future Lord of Finland practically purrs as he bends over and takes my hand, bringing my poor fingers to his thin lips.
Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.
I curtsy. “Thank you.” I tug my hand free and wipe my fingers on the skirt of my gown.
He stares at me like I’m his dinner. His dark brown eyes remind me of a snake, and his bumpy, broken nose is long, reminding me of a horse’s snout. He is not a good-looking man. I can’t imagine myself being in a passionate embrace with him. The thought has my stomach rolling, and my instinct is to fly away like a bird.
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