by Ingrid Hahn
Thorvald’s gaze slid to the princess. She was sitting apart from the men, her hands folded, eyes demurely lowered. The picture of deferential femininity.
All day he’d been trying to shake the thrill of having been next to her when she was watching the snail. All day he’d failed.
Absently, he rubbed his fingers over the golden ring upon his arm. A gift from the jarl. A beautiful shackle, more like. It gave Thorvald no pride.
He slipped it off and felt its weight in his hand, staring out at the sea. If he tossed the thing into the water, it’d be lost forever.
He glanced back to the princess. What was the life he wanted?
But he’d taken her, hadn’t he? She was never going to forgive him for that, much less…
Thorvald swallowed. And what would he be without his land, anyway? More than that, the jarl held Thorvald’s secret. If he didn’t obey, he would be destroyed.
He replaced the golden ring back on his arm and reassessed his captive. She was planning something, clearly enough. Her demeanor was calculated to make someone relax. Make him relax. Just enough to disregard her.
Whatever she was going to do, part of him wanted it done. He was tired and wanted to be well-rested before setting out.
But he would wait.
If she thought she had a chance of escaping, he’d show her otherwise.
He trudged up and sat next to her, silent for a long time as he idly used his knife to carve lines in a piece of stone he’d found. “What are you thinking about?”
“My place in the world.”
An honest and telling answer. He tried not to smile. “And what does your thinking lead you to believe?”
“That I don’t belong with you.”
Part of him wanted to sit by the fireside and study her face until he understood what it was she stirred in him. Another part of him wished he’d never seen the woman. She provoked protective instincts he’d never been aware of possessing. When he touched her, they burst to life. All his awareness trained on her, even when he needed to focus elsewhere. This morning had been proof enough of that.
“I’m not letting you go.” He slid her a sidelong glance to ascertain whether she caught the warning in his voice.
“I don’t expect you to.”
The trees by the beach weren’t especially dense, but the cover of night would leave pockets of darkness scattered through the land. Easy enough to hide in. Then she wouldn’t have far to go if she made for the nearest village.
Unfortunately for her, Thorvald wasn’t about to give her the chance to slip through his fingers.
Chapter Fifteen
Escape
By the crackling fire, Alodie kept still. Let the demons underestimate her.
She’d spent two days in prayer asking for guidance about what course of action she should take. Accept her fate and stay with them to be the princess for whatever prize she was supposed to represent? Or take her chances and flee?
The storm might have taken four heathens who might or might not have had souls, but it had also brought her back to land. She’d asked for deliverance. If the hand of God was at work, what sort of culpability did she bear for the loss of those…did she dare call them men? It was hard not to think of them as such, now that they were dead. In life, however, they’d been nothing like what a man was supposed to be. They would have willingly slaughtered the village and taken what they pleased before the bodies they’d slain were cool.
Those were questions she’d wrestle with another day. If she stayed, she could discuss the matter with a priest. Carefully, though—as in everything she sought to discuss with the priest, lest she accidentally let a heretical thought slip or make him believe she’d been thinking too much.
She let her eyes fall shut, straightened her spine, and took a deep breath. Her thoughts were wandering again. This was neither the time nor the place. She’d been granted deliverance. She could not beg for the hand of God only to slap it away when He extended it.
As the stars emerged, the men bedded down upon the beach. Alodie took her place upon the demon’s cloak, nesting adjacent the length of his sword. He wasn’t long in coming to lie beside her.
She closed her eyes and turned her head, listening. The nighttime sea breeze perfumed the night and the gentle roll and swish of the tide all but lulled her to oblivion. More than once, she jerked herself out of a near collision with sleep. She’d wait and wait and then wait some more. The demon leader had sharp reflexes. And he watched her like a predator. Like a wolf biding his time.
The moon would tell her. She’d go when it was high overhead.
Slowly, the pale orb climbed the sky. And when, after a near eternity, it reached its apex, Alodie was ready. The demon’s breathing was shallow and even. The last time he’d moved, the moon had been in the transitional phase between appearing bigger and golden against the horizon, then shrinking smaller and whiter as it crept up into the sky.
The men keeping watch over the encampment had wandered to the far end of the beach some time ago and hadn’t walked back. The murmurs of their conversation drifted toward her, but no words were discernible.
Alodie took in a breath and let the air out again in a controlled exhalation. When she pushed up onto her elbows in careful movements, a rush of power swept all residual sleepiness away. She didn’t look toward the men on watch, lest they sense her eyes upon them and catch her trying to flee. With slow deliberation, she crept over the uneven surface of the cold sand toward the rocks.
Safe by a boulder, she crouched in the darkness, hugging her knees close. Her pulse pounded and she breathed heavily.
The night was alive with sounds. Rustling breezes through leaves and grass. The tide. An owl calling.
None of it seemed as loud as her.
But the beach remained quiet. The demon leader kept to his bed. The guards’ conversation had not paused.
Alodie crept farther away. Once she reached the trees, if enough moonlight spilled through the leafed-out branches to illuminate a path, she would run. If not, well, she could go slowly too. Leaving was leaving. No matter how painful it was to not be able to sprint away into the night, staying with the demons would be worse.
She sped as fast as she dared toward a tree and flung herself against the trunk.
It was working. She was going to escape. They’d wake in the morning and—oh, who cared what those godless heathens did, so long as they did not come back for her.
Alodie went still. Come back for her. Their ships were ready to sail. It would cost them nothing but a few extra days to turn back. In an onslaught of weakness, her neck went slack, knocking the back of her head against the tree trunk.
Two days in prayer. All that time envisioning her escape and not once had she stopped to consider what she would do once free. In the back of her mind, all she could think about was returning to the way things were before.
Curse her rashness. The real princess would have been able to think past the mere act of escaping. She’d have had her next five decisions mapped out in her mind—maybe more, for she also saw where things might go wrong, requiring alternative plans.
Alodie’s lungs tightened. She wanted to curl into a ball and let loose all the stinging tears she’d held back.
That would have been of little use. She could cry enough to flood the world and afterward she would still be faced with having to figure out what to do with herself. But she wasn’t strong enough for this. All she’d ever wanted to do was serve the princess.
Now she’d never see her again.
There was no going back. No erasing the fact that the demons had landed upon their shores. No waking up from this nightmare. The only thing remaining was the looming question of what the demons would do once they found her gone. What if she returned home only to find them waiting for her?
No, they wouldn’t be waiting for her. It
would be worse. The first thing they would do was uncover her deception and take the real princess. Would they then stay for her, to slaughter her for humiliating them by making them believe she was the person they wanted? Or would they not care when they had their real prize?
Either way, what was done was done. The home that Alodie had known was gone. She was a person without a place in the world. And there was nothing for her to return to.
An unmarried woman without money or property had no hope of starting new anyplace else.
Never had Alodie been so acutely alone.
What would the real princess do? First, she’d never have debased herself with unfavorable thoughts about their demon leader, naturally.
That aside, the real princess would always have put her people before herself. Always. Alodie was selfish to consider aught else. A yoke of shame fell upon her shoulders.
Alodie bent at the waist just enough to peer around the trunk of the tree and stare back at the beach. But that was no place for her. All those men were vessels for souls of the damned.
Before she could draw another breath, a shadow grew out of the darkness and grabbed her.
Chapter Sixteen
Capture
Thorvald secured a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream and pulled her close. She thrashed against him like a wild beast caught in a snare, beating her fists against his chest. Powerful little fighter, she was. She had no teaching, though, and was easy enough to subdue.
“You’re not escaping from me, princess.” He only had to grab her by the wrists and he’d stopped her. “I won’t raise a hand to you, and I expect the same in return.”
“I owe you nothing and if raising a hand means my escape, I will do what needs be done.” She tried to struggle against him again.
Thorvald tightened his grip. “Think you can overpower me, do you?”
She stopped and lifted her gaze to meet his. The moonlight illuminated the pure hatred burning in her large eyes. “I think you overestimate many of your abilities.”
The silence between them elicited awareness in his body. Being close to her. Alone. Under starlight. And the dangerously intoxicating current between them whenever they came close. It could have been that her awareness of what was between them made her hate him all the more.
His breathing deepened. Her lips parted. He tried not to smell the scent rising from her skin driving his thoughts deeper into places they had no right to roam.
Odin, help him. He needed to be strong. Honestly, Thorvald didn’t know what Jarl Erlendr would think if he and she were to…but they wouldn’t, and not because of the jarl.
For the time being, she was in thrall to him, Thorvald. And he didn’t use women who were essentially powerless, no matter how provocatively they might proclaim their willingness. Their current position highlighted the imbalance between them. Him—big, strong, and effortlessly dominant. Her—helpless but to submit to his physical force.
The realization was a splash of icy water on thoughts uncoiling in the spiral of arousal. No matter if the idea of dominating the princess in bed made every portion of his body alive with desire, that was not how he took his women.
“I’m not going to”—his voice sounded gruff—“kiss you.”
Her eyes flashed. “One more thing you—you—yourself—overestimate about…you… You…ogre. I’d sooner kiss a—a—” She made a frustrated sound, like she was getting all mixed up in her languages, searching for the right words and finding them only in her native tongue. “A fish.”
“I can do much better than a fish.”
“Go kiss one then, and teach it a thing or two, if you think you can.”
“I can’t fault your courage.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
Thorvald sobered. This was no time for amusement. “I’m going to warn you once, princess, so listen carefully, and if you don’t understand, ask for clarification. No mercy will be rendered on account of you pleading ignorance.”
She glowered. “Mercy? What do you know of mercy?”
“Very little. But I know something of justice. So be warned—try something like this again and there will be repercussions.”
“Repercussions?”
“Consequences. If you defy me again, I will punish you.”
Nowhere in this conversation had a hint of intimidation flickered through the princess’s features. Strong women were not unknown in Thorvald’s world, which he’d only observed by glimpsing the powerlessness of females in her world. How had this strong spirit learned to exist while imprisoned within the ways of her people? She would have been better off born one of his kind.
“I took you. You’re mine now. What you choose to subject yourself to and what you will be subjected to have no bearing on one another.”
She shook her head, still glowering. “I don’t think you’re that cruel.”
“And I don’t think you can talk me out of my position. You or anybody.”
“Do your worst, demon.” Her chin jutted out at him. Her indomitable spirit shone through with every utterance she made. “I will never be yours to rule. Not now. Not ever.”
And for that, he liked her all the more.
“I promise you, should I have the opportunity, I will spare you nothing.”
“Promises, promises. Are they as empty as they seem?”
“You’re taunting me.” Pushing him, more like. To see how far she could go before he’d snap. He really didn’t frighten her, did he? There was something consoling about knowing she’d stand up to him at every turn. It put them on nearly an equal footing. Except for one detail. “You’re my captive and in my care. I will do what I must to ensure I keep you. That I do promise.”
“Why? Help me understand. You said I was a prize. A prize for what? What do you intend to do with me?”
“You ask too many questions.” He spoke to her, but the words could have been applied to himself. There were countless women back home—why could he never have felt as drawn to them as he did to this foreign princess, the daughter of his jarl’s enemy? And why did the feeling have to be so strong? Why did every beat of his pulse have to be drumming with the idea that the only way to live to see the next sunset, the only way to enjoy inhaling his next breath, was to kiss this woman?
“I think I have a right to know.”
“You had no say then. You have none now. And you will have none in the future. This is the world we live in.”
She narrowed her eyes as if she’d sensed a weak point and would try to exploit it. “The world we live in? What a pile of cow pats. I’ve seen you. I know what you’re capable of. You command these men as if it’s nothing. You could do precisely as you pleased. People like me are the powerless ones. Those like you are the ones who determine what life is like for others.”
So she had found a weak spot. What he’d said…he’d practically presented it to her on a golden dish.
He was usually much better at minding his tongue.
Too late, though. What was said, was said, and her words were rough-hewn spears extracting blood from a conscience he didn’t want to acknowledge. The fire in him rose. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If that’s true, it’s only because you won’t tell me.”
“If that’s true?”
“You lead these men.” So long as she was expressing herself properly and he was understanding her, what she said was a bald statement of fact.
“I know.”
“Meaning, you could lead them to do whatever you pleased.”
Inside, he writhed. This conversation had to end.
He must have been possessed, stupid goat that he was, because he bit out another question. “Why do you say that?”
“Because—” She let out a frustrated huff. “I still don’t understand all this. You take me, but leave what it is yo
u demons always want—all the precious items we have. But it doesn’t seem to please you.”
“I am loyal to my jarl.” He spoke with cold detachment.
“Your jarl.” She glared at him. “I see. And taking me…what? Somehow proves your daring? I’m a prize to be displayed as it pleases you?”
“What I please to do is what is asked of me.” What he pleased to do was bury the secret of his father’s cowardice and leave it behind to rot in the ground, no more important to the world than a wormy apple.
“And yet there is nothing in your manner saying you’re proud of yourself. You’ve been sullen the entire way. Even before—” She caught herself. What was left unspoken hovered silently yet weightily between them. Even before Sigurd’s death, she’d been going to say.
It wasn’t the time for Thorvald to be thinking of what this voyage had cost him.
“Don’t you think you’d be happier ruling men instead of being ruled? Making your own choices?”
“More than you could know.” To make his own choices was the only thing he wanted, and she was the means by which he’d get it.
Without an answer, he heaved her up on her shoulders.
She squealed. “What are you doing?”
“What I please.”
Which was to end the conversation before it became any more dangerous.
Chapter Seventeen
Alodie Sights Land
With nights short in summer, morning came too soon. At the first slice of light visible over the dark horizon, the demon leader marched her to the boats.
They returned to the sea and for long stretches of time he said nothing to her, avoiding her gaze with visible determination. Alodie suffered nothing more than isolation, bad food, and an aching bottom. If the oak planks weren’t accursed enough, the iron rivets were straight from Hell.
Every once in a while, he’d inhale and turn toward her, his expression relaxed. Like he was about to make an offhanded observation.
But they didn’t have that kind of easiness between them. His face would harden as he remembered. His mouth would clamp together and he’d scowl as he turned away.