Vikings' Brides Box Set

by Jessica Knight

  “Lord! Lord Grimkael,” a young voice shouts from the hills beside the castle.

  “You’ve have got to be kidding me,” Lord Grimkael grunts, rubbing his eyes with frustration. “I’m starting to wonder if your marriage is cursed with so many things trying to prevent it. I swear, this is more stressful than war,” he grumbles.

  “Grim, my apologies. You know how eager Abram is,” chuckles Warlord Einarr.

  “Aye, I know. I know. It’s okay, old friend. He has proven himself worthy. He has become an excellent warrior.”

  The Warlord smiles wide, and the scars on his face tug with the muscle. His chest puffs with pride and he nods in agreement. “Aye, he is great, ain’t he?”

  “If it doesn’t work with her, you know where to find me, Sir Trident,” a young woman purrs as she saunters by my fiancée. The skank.

  “I won’t be looking for you,” Trident says. “I’m happy here.”

  “Your loss,” she snips, swaying her hips more than usual.

  My cheeks heat with anger, and my eyes burn with the threat of tears. Everything is against us. Defeat is starting to look more likely than the marriage itself.

  Tilting my head down, I stare at the grass under my feet. I feel less bombarded and overwhelmed looking away from everyone. The air doesn’t feel as thin. It’s like having a moment alone. Something I desperately need.

  “Abram, what is it? What’s going on?” Lord Grimkael’s voice is urgent instead of playful. He marches around us to meet the young boy just in time before he collapses on the ground, blood trickling down his forehead. “What happened to you?”

  “Abram?” Warlord Einarr’s voice booms, startling me. “Boy, what happened?” The Warlord falls to his knees, cradling Abram’s head in his hands.

  “Lord Aland and his troops are on his way.”

  “Impossible,” Lord Grimkael hisses. “He said two days.”

  “Oh, goddess.” My knees tremble, threatening to give out when I hear the news. My father is a liar. Plain and simple. Trident pulls me close, crooning sweet nothing in my ear.

  “How far away is he?” Lord Grimkael asks. “Leiva, come quick!”

  Abram’s eyes start to hood as he fights consciousness. The Warlord shakes him awake. “How far away is he, son?” he asks.

  A small woman—must be Leiva—pushes her way through the crowd. “Move, let me get to him. All you men are in my way,” her small body forces her way through the crowd and the last man she passes is Alexie, who steps out of her way like she asks.

  “Thank you,” she says, but does not look at him though. She sits beside Abram and checks out his head wound and tsks.

  All the while, I notice Alexie staring at her with awe and interest. Trident told me Erik was interested in her, but it seemed the affection was not reciprocated. Perhaps, Leiva could finally have someone that takes care of her like she takes care of others.

  “The wound isn’t deep,” Leiva says. “Head wounds typically bleed more than the common wound. It makes it look worse than it really is, but I bet his head is ringing.”

  “Will he be alright?”

  “Right behind me,” Abram moans, putting a hand to his head.

  “Shh, relax. You’re going to be fine, Abram. I must get him to the medical wing, now.”

  Abram grumbles again, “B-behind me. Not far.” Warlord Einarr doesn’t even struggle to lift the boy into his arms. His biceps barely flex with Abram’s weight.

  Lord Grimkael stares off into the hills, scanning his kingdom. “Abram says they are close. We must prepare. Did you know of this?” He whips his fur to the right as he turns to me. He isn’t angry, but his worry is evident.

  “No, I swear it. I had no idea. I hardly know my parents anymore. Just like Trident. I never know what they are about to do. You must believe me,” I cry. Trident kisses the top of my head, trying to calm me.

  “Warriors!” the Warlord shouts. “Formation behind Lord Grimkael. I’ll be right back.” Einarr dashes to the castle to get his son medical care, leaving us to fend for ourselves.

  Abram said my father was closing in, but close is an understatement. My father is too close. It’s too late. Along the horizon I see a shadow fall over the green hills. It creeps closer, reminding me of a dark storm cloud, bringing anger and destruction. “I’m so sorry, Trident.”

  “We shall handle this together. Side by side. You’ll be my wife. Interruptions won’t always be here, and they won’t last forever. Keep your faith in me, aye?”

  “You’re the only thing I have faith in.”

  Trident dives for my lips. It’s hard. Our teeth clash, and our tongues lick over one another, trying to get one last taste before everything changes.

  Trident pushes me away from him, our lips unlocking from the distance. When I open my eyes, I see his eyes are still shut and lips are still pursed, but his brows are pinched together, causing two lines to form on his forehead. I want to kiss him again, but his hand against my stomach prevents me.

  I see him draw his blade, and I step back shocked, scared, and a bit turned on. He looks so powerful. The silver blade gleams in the sunset, and the wind blows against his hair. It’s something embedded in my memory forever.

  “Stay behind me.” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. Trident steps in front of me, blocking the sun, and I shake with fear against him as the pounding hooves of the horses get closer. They must have ridden through the night to make that kind of time all the way from Norway.

  It’s a stampede of death. That’s the only thing I can relate it to as it gets closer.

  “Where’s my daughter?” my father shouts. The hooves slow and eventually come to a stop. I can almost feel the hot breath of the horses from how close they are. It makes my stomach churn. To the right, one of the beasts digs its hoof into the ground. To the left, another neighs, screaming in spirit. I swear, even the horses are dark-blooded, just like my family.

  “Where’s your respect?” Lord Grimkael growls. “Last I checked, you were supposed to be here in another day. High sun tomorrow, to be exact.”

  “That was the case until I received a message from the wife of Sir Karsten telling me her son had kidnapped my daughter and planned on marrying her. She said she agreed with them not getting married, just like she thought I’d agreed to and organized another party for him to pick a bride. No daughter of mine shall be married to a Karsten.”

  I slap a hand over my mouth to hide the sobs and hope he can’t hear me.

  “She’s mine!” Trident swings his blade in front of him. “You cannot have her. I’ll kill you if I must.”

  “Trident,” Lord Grimkael hisses. I’ve never known someone to be able to say a name to make it sound like ‘shut up’, but Lord Grimkael can. It is effective.

  “I know she is here,” my father says. I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. It’s all just a bad dream. I’ll wake up in Trident’s arms, safe and warm, and married. “If she doesn’t come back with me, the girl dies.”

  A high-pitched scream rings through the air, and I drop my hand from my mouth, hoping to all goddess that it isn’t who I think it is.

  “Aya, dear. Why won’t you say hello?” my father cackles.

  “Stay away, Sylvie! Stay—” but her voice is silenced with a hard slap. Probably the back of my father’s hand.

  “You dare touch a lady!” a man with a different accent cries out. Kievan perhaps. That must be Alexie. “You are no Lord. You are pathetic.”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” my father tsks.

  I can’t see what is happening, but from the sound of it, it seems Alexie dove for Aya, and my father stopped him. I take a deep breath and stand my ground. It’s time to stop acting like a coward. Everyone is depending on me. My best friend needs me.

  “Father,” I whisper, side-stepping around Trident’s back.

  “Sylvie, no! Stay back,” Trident tries to grab my hand, but I’m quicker, stepping ahead of him before he can reach me. I give him a look, and he nods, fear stil
l in his eyes. But I know he trusts me. I step forward, feeling him against my back, and a part of me is relieved that I have his strength and support.

  “Let her go,” I demand, locking eyes with Aya. Her wrists are bound and there is a rope in her mouth now, silencing her speech. To the right, Alexie is struggling to get free of the hold my father’s warriors have on him. He seems crazed to get to her. This look is different than the one he gave Leiva. It is as if he recognizes Aya.

  “If you do not come with me, I’ll kill her,” he repeats.

  “You really think you will be able to leave my kingdom alive? My warriors are ten times the warriors your men are. You have no chance,” Lord Grimkael stabs his sword into the ground and leans against it. It’s a move so natural and effortless for him. My father’s presence does not phase him at all.

  Also, our plan to not involve Trident has been ruined. We didn’t expect for Trident’s mother to divulge what truly happened.

  “Hmm, no, but if you want to spare the girls life, I suggest you will do just that. And I want that man who stole my daughter to be thrown in the dungeon.”

  “No! His mother lied, Father. I left willingly. We met on the border line. We fell in love. Is the feud really that important to end lives?” I try and argue, to make a valid point, but my father hears none of it. He doesn’t care. “Don’t put him in the dungeon. Please, Father. Please.”

  “It’s either that or his life,” my father says. “Which I have every right to ask for.”

  “Lord Grimkael,” I beg.

  “I’m sorry, but he is right. There are a few rules I follow, Lady Sylvie, but this cannot be broken.”

  “I’ll do anything.” I regret the words as soon as they are out of my mouth.

  “Sylvie. No! I’ll be fine,” Trident protests, strangling my hand with his.

  My father puts a blade against Aya’s throat, and I step forward, wanting to stop him. She’s filthy. Her dress is nothing but mud, and she is covered in grime. The only clean part on her are the streaks on her cheeks from the tears she has cried, like she is crying right now.

  “I heard you plan on attacking my land with or without your daughter. Is this true?” barks Lord Grimkael.

  “Who told you such a lie?” my father seethes. His chubby face is red, and his bald head reflects the last of the sun’s light. In this moment, I hold no love for the man. He has turned into a greedy, untrustworthy man.

  “Your daughter. She said she overheard you talking to your wife the night of the party that she fled from.”

  I flick my eyes to Lord Grimkael to see him watching Warlord Einarr. The man is like a ghost, taking out my father’s warriors one by one. No one notices. The Warlord covers their mouths with his hand and twists their neck. They collapse to the ground like trees, one after another, none of them noticing. Wow, the men truly are poorly trained.

  “Come with me now, Sylvie. I promise no one will get hurt.”

  “Hmm, sorry. I couldn’t make the same promise.” Lord Grimkael lifts his sword, and their blades meet with a loud crash. All hell breaks loose.

  “To death!” cry the Vikings. Wulf and Warlord Einarr spring into action. Trident moves to cover me, drawing his sword. He lunges forward and strikes down one of my father’s men who is about to grab me.

  “Run!” shouts Trident. “To the castle! You will be safe!”

  He lifts his fist and drives it straight through another of my father’s men, knocking him flat on the ground. I hesitate for just a moment, not wanting to leave him, but knowing I cannot stay.

  “Trident—"

  “Go, Sylvie! I got you!”

  Trident tackles a man to the ground and uses his body to knock it against another’s. I am safe at his back, but the men are closing in. There are too many. Trident has to turn away from me to fight off four men at once, each of them threatening to grab me and bring me back to my father.

  Finally, with tears flowing down my cheeks, I spin on my heel and dart away in the direction of the castle. I dodge a swinging blade, and a few hands try and grab me, but I keep running.

  “Run, Sylvie. Don’t stop!” Trident yells after me. I chance one look back to see him buckling, overpowered by the enemy. Lord Grimkael is yanking them off of him, but it’s too late.

  The commotion in the background is enough to light a fire under me. Swords clashing, screams, but it isn’t enough. All too soon, someone picks me up by my arm and slams something hard against my head.

  The last thing I think about is Trident before I drift into the black.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Trident

  “No!”

  I fall to my knees, screaming to the sky, my voice a guttural roar. A light rain starts to patter against my face. The sun is long gone, and a few storm clouds have rolled in. A few small fires had started in the fields, so the rain is welcome.

  I fall forward, my hands sinking into the mud. The rain comes down a bit harder, thrumming against my back. Another roar escapes me at the same time a crack of lightning veins across the sky.

  She’s gone.

  Everything changed in a blink of an eye. I thought we had him. I knew things were in question when he said he knew I had kidnapped her. Warlord Einarr snapped as many necks as he could to get their numbers down, but it still wasn’t enough.

  Her father still managed to get out of the thick of the fight and steal her away when we were battling. He didn’t stay and fight for his men. He did nothing. Lord Aland is a disgrace. He left the poor girl, Aya, bound and gagged in the mud when he fled. She got a small cut against her throat, and I saw Alexie swoop in and carry her to the medical wing.

  But I cannot find my love. She did not make it back to the castle. Lord Aland’s men knocked me to the ground, and even with Lord Grimkael’s help, I was not able to protect her in time.

  I am ashamed of myself.

  All that is left is me, Lord Grimkael, Warlord Einarr, Wulf, and Abram. Everyone is soaking wet, carrying dead bodies to the controlled fire that we made to discard them. I’m not doing anything. I’m numb, sitting on my haunches, letting rain beat down on me. Hopefully the fire lasts long enough to burn the flesh.

  “We will get her back,” Lord Grimkael raises his voice over the rain so I can hear him.

  I shake my head, watching the branches sway. I suppose this storm is stronger than we thought it would be. I feel defeated. I don’t bother voicing anything I was thinking. It’s pointless.

  All I can do is act, but I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to do that when I have to be thrown in the dungeon. If that is still happening. I actually might prefer it. I do not want to go back to my bedroom where I can smell her, ache for her, tremble for her, and not be able to reach out and pull her silky-smooth body to mine.

  Damn it, it hurts.

  “We have dealt with this before. We shall get her back,” Warlord Einarr yells from the other side of the fire, throwing another body onto the burning heap. “That’s the last of them.”

  We haven’t lost one man, but Lord Aland lost more than twenty. People truly believe they can face us, and then they do, and realize they shouldn’t. They hardly ever leave with their lives. I stand on my shaky legs and walk over to Lord Grimkael. “I want you to put me in in the dungeon.”

  “What? Nonsense. I shall do no such thing.”

  “I need you to.”

  “I do not care what you need. You are my warrior. I need you. A few men were injured tonight. Leiva and Alaric are busy healing them. Until they are healed, I need every man that’s able to fight. And we will. I have a feeling Lord Aland’s ‘wrath’ isn’t over.” Lord Grimkael laughs. “Sorry excuse of a man, if you ask me. If it was as easy to take her the first time, it shall be just as easy, if not easier the second. He doesn’t seem like a smart man. I need you to relax.”

  “Relax,” I scoff, piercing the sky with my saddened thoughts. We make our way back to the castle. It looks so gloomy, so haunted as I stare at it. The rain hits sidewa
ys from the strong gusts of wind, and the lightning cracks above it. It’s the last place I want to be. “I doubt you relaxed when Lady Sassa was taken.”

  “I ended up killing my own brother. Relaxing isn’t in my nature.”

  Right. His nature equals brutality. It’s how he is such a great Lord to us all. “I want his head,” I mutter. My boots squish against the ground, the rain pooling quickly the harder it pours.

  “We will catch up with you,” Lord Grimkael shouts to Abram and Warlord Einarr. They continue on their way to the castle and the Warlord throws his arms around Abram’s shoulder, clearly proud with how far he has come since he came here beaten and broken from the Jackals. We have a few refugees and they are all thriving. Alaric is our newest addition. He doesn’t seem to like it outside much, and I think it is due to his time in captivity. He feels safer in four walls and no matter how hard Lady Lilith tries; she cannot get him to enjoy the sun like she does.

  “You better think long and hard about how much vengeance you want.”

  “What do you mean? I want all of it,” I growl, my fists clenching. “If it were up to me, I’d take Lord Troy, and he can do what he does best.”

  “Troy doesn’t need to go off the deep end again. He balances a very dangerous rope. All I am saying is if you truly want her love, you must think about the blood you’re willing to put on your hands. As much as she may despise her family, that is still her father. You kill him, she may never forgive you. Do you want to risk that?”

  His words make sense, but they fall on deaf ears. I think she will forgive me. After he not only threatened me, but her friend as well. I doubt he will be missed.

  “Sleep on it.”

  I nod and we begin walking again. “I heard her screaming when he pulled her away. It’s all I hear right now, and how I wasn’t there. I said I’d be there. I said I’d protect her and what did I do? I failed her.”