Viking Warrior, Unwilling Wife

There was only one click. Had Vikar forgotten to tell the guard?

She pressed her hand against her head and tried to think of how to open the door. Her heart pounded in her ears. Loki had heard her prayer, and given her a sign. Freedom beckoned, if she was careful.

It was easy, her father had often boasted. She simply had to…And her mind went blank.

Sela went over to the door, and attempted to turn the handle. It didn’t budge. She tried the other way. Nothing. Sela held up the little rush light, trying to find the secret way, but the wood looked smooth. It had no wish to deliver up its secrets. She beat against the handle with her fists, but it remained stubbornly shut.

‘Father! You created a trap for your own daughter!’

She kicked the bottom of the door and it swung open. Sela gave a strangled laugh. The answer so easy that it was in front of her. She wiped her hands against her trousers and peered out into the darkened chamber.

No guard stood there, waiting. Her brow wrinkled. Vikar must be losing his touch. Or perhaps he thought her incapable of escape. Whatever it was, it did not matter. The only thing that mattered was breaking out of the hall, rejoining Kjartan and getting as far away from Vikar as possible.

Vikar, arrogant in his superiority, had miscalculated. His own man had failed him.

She would be free. They would not soon recapture her.

She started towards the entrance to the chamber as the sounds of feasting swirled around her, then stopped.

Her escape would only work if it was not quickly discovered. She retraced her steps and arranged the armour and fur to look as though she slept. She then held up the sputtering remains of the rush light. Not perfect, but it was the best she could do. If the guard checked tonight, it would be late, probably after the feasting.

Voices rumbled outside her father’s chambers and Sela quickly doused the light, pulling the door to her former prison shut. She flattened her body against the wall, ready to run, if they entered the room.

Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she thought they must hear. Just when she thought she could no longer bear it and would have to act, the footsteps moved on and the voices receded. Sela relaxed against the wall. Waited. Risked a breath.

Staying here was asking to be recaptured. She might as well try to march through the centre of the feast and announce her plan to the entire hall. She had to move. She had to find a way. Kjartan was counting on her.

She eased the door back and looked out. The passage was silent. Beyond it, she could see the flickering light of the hall’s fire and hear the laughter as a skald started his tale. Sela clenched her fists. Vikar had wasted no time in making himself at home. These men were making free with the stores she had worked so hard to build up.

Cautiously she made her way along the passage, keeping to the shadows. She peeped out into the great hall. Vikar sat at the high table, with his back towards her. Over-confident in his finery and hearty laugh, but breathtakingly handsome. She stood watching the way his long fingers held the goblet.

A sudden burst of laughter at a poor joke about her father by the skald brought her to her senses. She should have expected it, but it still bothered her.

She fingered the knife and took a step forward. He deserved to suffer.

Her toe hit something—a little wooden horse. Rapidly she bent down and picked it up. Kjartan’s favourite, the one he took everywhere with him.

Tears pricked her eyes and she used the back of her sleeve to wipe them away. Kjartan would be lost without his horse. He must have cried when her father led him to safety. Sela straightened. There were more important things than exacting her revenge. And this horse would be her talisman.

She had loathed that tunnel ever since her brother had lured her there as a child. Her nurse had rescued her, shaken and dishevelled, after what seemed like hours in the company of bats and spiders’ webs. But there was no hope for it. She did not dare risk the kitchens or going through the main hall.

She would have to brave it and hope the bats had gone. Even the thought of the creatures in her hair turned her stomach. After the tunnels, the woods and then the long way around to the hut. It was safer and was bound to be the route her father had taken with Kjartan. She might even reach them before the fording place, if she hurried.

A sudden burst of applause as the skald reached the high point in his recitation of the saga about the Lindisfarne raid forcibly reminded her that she could not simply stay here, pressed up against a wall for ever. Her muscles tensed as she prepared to run to the next group of shadows. Vikar called something out to the skald and the place erupted in laughter. Coarse rough laughter from men who had filled their bellies with meat and ale. At the sound, she darted. Made it.

She kept to the shadows and reached the tunnel’s entrance without being challenged. The outlines of the trapdoor were clear for anyone who knew where to look. She would make it through. The way was clear. There were not hidden twists or turns. She simply had to keep going until the end.

‘Concubine?’ she whispered before raising Kjartan’s horse over her head in triumphant. ‘I choose another path.’

The trap door creaked slightly as she lifted it. She descended a few steps, pulled it firmly shut and allowed the blackness to envelop her.

‘Vikar,’ Ivar said in an undertone as the skald began another song. ‘The food has been delivered to your prisoner.’

Vikar drained his horn of ale, wiped his hand across his face and lifted his gaze to the shadows. ‘I know.’

‘But how can you know? The guard has just returned. He was waylaid in the kitchens. There is a lusty serving maid who caught his eye.’

The shadows shimmered and parted as a figure moved stealthily along the wall. Vikar permitted a smile to cross his face. He knew his former wife well, even after all these years. It pleased him that she had been so accommodating, so willing to take the opportunity and so foolish not to see that the way had been made clear for her. And she would be his, on his terms in the end. ‘The mouse has taken the bait, as I predicted she would.’

‘You are taking an awful risk, Vikar.’

Vikar raised an eyebrow. ‘It is a risk, yes, but it is the fastest way of discovering where our host for this feast is hidden.’

‘Someone else should go.’

‘No.’ Vikar banged his fist on the table and the skald stopped speaking, looking at him in amazement.

Vikar winced, remembering Bose the Dark’s reputation. The skald probably thought the tale had invoked his displeasure. He gestured for the man to continue with his saga.

Once the skald’s words flowed again, Vikar continued. ‘We have been over this, Ivar. This is my quest, my duty. You are to remain here and direct any defence that is needed. I know what my former father-in-law is like. I and I alone will bring him back for the surrender. Then, none in the Sorting will whisper and plot.’

‘I will do as you ask.’

Vikar knocked his horn with Ivar, before he drained the remainder. ‘Take care of the men until I return.’

‘May Odin and Thor speed your journey.’

The grey light, which a few steps ago had seemed only a cruel twist of the tunnel, grew brighter. Sela heaved a sigh of relief. She was nearly through the tunnel without incident. Her earlier fears seemed foolish now, but still she would be pleased when she made it through to the woods, when she no longer had to worry.

She reached the exit and gulped the fresh pine-scented air, a welcome relief after the close stale air of the passageway. She had lost count of the number of spiders’ webs she’d had to brush through, a sure sign that her father and Kjartan had gone a different way.

But they would be in the hut. They had to be. Sela clenched her fists, refused to give way to panic. They had agreed.

She dashed across the few open yards and made it to the screen of trees. There she waited to see if the alarm would be raised, but, except for the lone bark of one of the elkhounds, the yard was silent. She thought she saw the shadow of a man, but it vanished so quickly that she decided it was a trick of the light.

Her knees gave and she sank into the soft moss under the silver birch. A jay scolded her slightly and then flew off lazily into the hazy sky.

She listened to the sound of her heart beating and fingered Kjartan’s wooden horse.

Safety of a sort. After her breath had returned, she’d be away. And would not return except to free her people from Vikar. First her son, then her people. Somehow. Some way. She would prevail.

‘This is not the end, Vikar. This is only the beginning. I will regain everything. Everything!’

Sela raised her fist in the air and shook it towards the hall. Useless bravado she knew, but the little gesture of defiance made her feel better.

Her hair fell forward and she pushed it back behind her ears, pressed her fingertips into her eyes, concentrated on remembering the landmarks and their correct order.

In many ways, escaping from the hall was the easy part. Now she had to find her son. The thing she wanted most in the world was to scoop up Kjartan, hold him tight and never let him go.

She took a deep breath and plunged into the wood, picking her way along the faint track and keeping her eyes peeled for the faint signs her father had left to show the way—a cut in the bark here, a pile of stones there. To keep her spirits up, she hummed one of Kjartan’s favourite songs, a great rollicking one about a brave warrior.

Twice she lost her way and the track vanished into a pond or off a cliff, and she had to retrace her steps, going ever deeper into the woods. She kept one hand clasped around the dagger at all times.

A noise caused the hairs on the back of Sela’s neck to prickle. She stiffened and tightened her grasp of the hilt.

An animal? Bear? Wolf, or worse—one of the berserkers who had lost their minds and become more bear than human?

She half-turned, caught a flash of dark blue cloth. The energy drained from her body. So close and yet she had achieved nothing. She could throw herself down on the soft moss and weep.

‘You have had your amusement,’ she said, carefully enunciating her words so there could be no mistaking them. She put her hands on her hips and stared at the place she was certain he had concealed himself. ‘I wonder that you let me get this far. When did you plan to let me know that my attempt was pitiful?’

‘Your escape showed faint glimmers of ingenuity, Sela, I will give you that, but they have faded. Will you never learn about concealment?’

Chapter Four

‘Only a glimmer of ingenuity, Vikar? You wound me.’ A huge wave of disappointment washed over Sela, crushing her to the ground with its intensity. The birch and pine that had provided shelter a heartbeat before closed around her, imprisoned her. She had thought herself to be free, but it had been the merest illusion of freedom. ‘I considered my escape magnificent. A complete triumph.’

‘Did you think you could escape that easily? How little you know me, Sela. Details and planning. I learnt your father’s lessons well.’

Vikar came out from behind a tall birch, a little way from where she had thought he might be. The sunlight streamed from behind him, making his frame appear larger and casting his features into shadow. He stood there with his hands on his hips, much as a god might survey the earth.

Sela judged the distance between them—no more than fifty strides lay between them. Her leg muscles tightened, tensed in preparation for flight. There was a small opening between two larches.

But could she make it?

Sela hesitated and glanced again at where he stood, glowering. Vikar was one of the fastest runners at court. Whenever they held competitions at the court in Kaupang, he won. He could easily cover those lengths before she made it to the trees.

With a sigh, she rejected the idea, released the air from her lungs, and forced her muscles to relax. A dark misery swamped her senses. He had timed his entrance well. She already had experienced enough humiliation for one day, for a lifetime. He had anticipated her every movement, appeared to guess her secrets. Not every secret. That one she hid. And she would keep it hidden for ever, if the gods allowed her to.

Sela pressed her hand to her mouth, holding back a sob. Her head collapsed on to her chest, but at the sound of his derisive snort, she raised her eyes and glared at him, daring him to make the first move, to reveal what he intended to do next.

‘It would appear that I misjudged the situation,’ she said carefully. ‘I thought no one had noticed my departure.’

‘Once away from the hall, you failed to remember the need for stealth and concealment,’ he said, leaning against the trunk of a birch with a deceptive casualness. ‘Did you disregard my advice from long ago or were you simply seeking attention?’

The hint of amusement in his voice was clear, a noise calculated to get under her skin. He had toyed with her! Allowed her the appearance of escaping, when all along he had been tracking her, intending to recapture her.

‘I did nothing of the sort!’

‘You sounded like a wild boar rummaging in the undergrowth,’ he continued remorselessly, the amusement growing in his voice. ‘I would have thought Bose the Dark’s daughter would have been more cautious in how she walked through the woods, particularly when those woods have such a sinister reputation in her father’s saga.’

‘I should have been.’ Sela tilted her head upward and met his green gaze. Two could play at this game. She was no longer the naïve woman who had been his bride; she had matured. He no longer had any power over her. ‘What is one shadow when you are fleeing for your life?’

Vikar crossed his arms and gave a small shrug. The material tightened across his shoulders, revealing their breadth. ‘All I had to do was give you the opportunity and a slight push in the right direction. You can be very predictable, Sela.’

Predictable. Dull. Unexciting.

The words thudded in her brain. She knew what Vikar must think of her. What he had thought of her in those brief months they had had together. She had not been a person to him, but a glass counter in his quest for glory, something to be used and discarded.

Only she had done the discarding first.

‘You wanted me to escape.’

‘It is the reason I am here.’

Sela looked up into the network of green leaves and branches rising over her head. She had no wish to show Vikar how much his casual statement cut into her soul.

She had been arrogant, so proud of her ability that she had never once questioned why the room might be easy to leave. Her desire to reach Kjartan and her father had dimmed her common sense. She had made it easy for Vikar to play his little game. Easy!

‘I could have walked through the main hall and out the front door,’ she said, once she regained control of her emotions.

‘But it wouldn’t have been as much fun, would it?’ The dimple showed in Vikar’s cheek as he casually swung one of his legs.

‘Fun? Getting spiders’ webs in my hair? Having bats scream in my face?’ Sela longed for a sharp missile to throw at his head. But it would probably only provoke greater mirth. She contented herself with clenching her fists. ‘You have some strange ideas of amusement.’

‘I had forgotten that you did not care for bats.’ His stance relaxed slightly. The corners of his mouth began to twitch as his eyes gleamed. ‘This is an added treat.’

His laughter echoed off the trees, sending several ravens flapping into the air. Sela gritted her teeth.

‘It is not funny. My mouth, nose and hands were covered in dirt and the sticky tendrils of a thousand spiders’ webs. The tunnel is far from an easy experience. This was not done for your entertainment!’

Vikar sobered, stood up and came near her. His eyes simmered with barely suppressed fury. Sela took a step backwards, her hand reaching for the hilt of her dagger.

‘No, but one way and another you have put me to a great deal of bother and you deserved some discomfort.’

‘Discomfort? Was this all about teaching me some long overdue lesson?’ Sela regarded his hands, strong but with long fingers. Hands that had once cradled her when she was in pain. ‘Particularly as you say I am predictable. Why seek to punish me in this way? Surely I have suffered enough.’

She waited for his response, every fibre of her being alert and poised. Even the breath of wind had stopped, waiting. He shifted his weight, making a twig crack.

‘Allowing you to escape served my needs.’

‘You are standing in a pool of sunlight. Perhaps it is you who ought to take lessons on concealment.’ She gave a strangled attempt at a carefree laugh. ‘I discovered you before you revealed yourself, before your plan had finished.’

Vikar lifted an eyebrow. ‘I will have to make an adjustment to my plans. It is one of my more endearing features—I learn and make adjustments.’

‘Endearing features? Do you have more than one?’ Sela asked through gritted teeth.

‘Others think so.’

‘Perhaps it is because they are unacquainted with the real you.’

‘And you are?’ He lifted an eyebrow.

‘Let me know the full horror of your plan. Exactly how was I to provide your amusement…this time?’

‘You were to unwittingly lead me to your father’s bolt-hole. The scheme had its merits, you will have to admit.’

Sela cast her eyes heavenwards. She had very nearly done that. Depending on the way she went, the hut could easily be reached by early morning. The shadows were lengthening, but there would only be a short time while it was truly dark and she had to rest. She had intended on pressing on, forcing her body to move, but now there was little point. Vikar was here, with her.

She refused to betray her father like that.

Her insides trembled, but she forced her body to be as straight as a newly forged sword.

‘Your scheme has failed. I won’t lead you anywhere.’ Her hand brushed the hilt of the dagger. If he did advance, she would have no hesitation. He was her enemy.

‘You will, Sela. You will lead me directly to your father.’ His voice dropped to a purr and lapped at the edges of her mind. The same silken sound he had used to coax her back after one of their quarrels. ‘You will obey me. You will lead me to him.’

‘Never.’ Sela spat the word and regained control of her mind.

‘Shall I make you?’

Vikar took several steps towards her. Her hand tightened around the hilt. Her entire arm ached—from her hand to her elbow to her shoulder. She drew a breath, felt her legs tense.

‘If you come any closer…’

‘The time for using that weapon has gone.’

‘Then stop tempting me.’ She forced her fingers to relax. At the slight movement, he halted. ‘If you keep your distance, I won’t use it. But I do know how to.’

‘Temptation. Let’s speak of temptation to do harm and see who has the greater right.’ A grim smile crossed his features. ‘You owe me. You left Kaupang without an explanation and you attempted to leave the hall without my permission.’

‘I was not aware I needed your permission.’

‘Twice is two times too many.’

The breath rushed out of her. This was all about his hurt pride. She had damaged his overwhelming sense of self-importance.

‘You know why I left—or you would have if you had spared me some time from the oh-so-lovely Asa’s side.’ Anger filled her. Her fingers itched to draw the dagger from its sheath. ‘You did not care whether I lived or died…until I was gone.’

‘Maybe you should have fought for me. Maybe you used it as an excuse to get away from something you feared.’ Vikar’s eyes were ice-cold green as they regarded her hand, but he made no further movement towards her.

‘How does one fight a queen?’ Sela kicked a pebble, remembering those dreadful days in Kaupang when she had waited for him to come to her at her father’s house. He had never responded to her ultimatum except to order her back. She had finished taking orders from him and had left. ‘I refused to compete, and feed your vanity.’

‘Was it about my vanity or yours?’ Vikar’s eyes became inscrutable as he took a step closer. The warmth of his breath fanned her cheek. She could see the lines in the corners of his eyes and the hollow of his throat where she used to press her lips.

‘My vanity?’ The words came out as a squeak.

‘Yes, yours.’

Vikar came closer, so close, that if she breathed deeply their bodies would touch. Her fingers trembled. To her horror, she realised that she wanted to touch him, to feel his skin slide under her palms, to once again experience that swirl of emotion. Her body remembered the times they had spent together. Remembered it and wanted it again even as her mind willed the memory to subside back into that locked place in her mind.

‘And my refusal to dance to your tune bothered you.’ His voice had become a silken purr, one that flowed over her and ensnared her in its coils. ‘You wanted me there, by your side. You hungered for me and my touch.’

Yes. The word resounded in her brain. For a heartbeat, Sela wondered if she had uttered the single syllable out loud. She blinked, but Vikar continue to look at her with the same smug expression. She drew a breath and regained control of her tongue, her body.

‘No, you meant nothing to me.’ She forced her voice to be a honeyed sweet lie. ‘It was a political alliance and it outlived its usefulness. I had no desire for you. I have no desire.’

‘I think there was more to it than that.’

Vikar pulled her against his body, moulding her curves to his hard planes. And she was not prepared for the white heat that coursed through her body. Was he going to kiss her again? Her mouth ached as if he had. His hand skimmed her arm and then pulled the dagger from her waistband. He balanced it on the palm of his hand before placing it in his waistband. She fancied his breath came a little faster.

‘A dangerous plaything for a woman,’ he said at last. ‘I think I shall put it under my protection.’

Sela fought her instincts and forced her head to remain high. ‘I refuse to go back to the hall, Vikar, to become an unknown man’s concubine. I am not some thrall to be sold to the highest bidder.’

‘I never intended selling you. What an intriguing suggestion.’ His smile widened and his eyes danced. ‘We will discuss your proposition in greater detail after you take me to your father.’

To her father. Her father, who was even now concealing Kjartan.

Sela caught her lip between her teeth, tried to think clearly and not to simply react. Her life was nothing if she could not hold Kjartan once more in her arms, tell him once more that she loved him and listen to his sweet voice asking a thousand different questions. This time, this time, she would answer without wondering if the corn had been ground or the fire properly lit. But without a weapon, she could not make it through the woods. She would never see him again.

Vikar was her only hope of reaching Kjartan alive.

She had no choice. She would have to take the risk and pray for a miracle.

‘And what will I achieve with that?’ She forced her head high, and placed one hand on her hip. ‘There must be something for me. I refuse to betray him simply because you ask me to.’

Sela held her breath and waited for his response. He had to accept her father deserved her loyalty. He had to be willing to bargain. He could not guess her decision had already been made.

‘That is admirable of you.’ Vikar tilted his head to one side, and his eyes travelled slowly down her form. ‘What has Bose the Dark done to deserve such loyalty? Left you with a few unworthy warriors while he scuttled out the back entrance to freedom? Left you to a certain doom? To rot? To be sold? What did you do to deserve that?’