The captive narrowed his eyes. “I killed your people. Burned their church to the ground because they were too stupid to get out.”
As the sudden rage within me nearly took my breath away, there was a strange stirring behind me. The undead warriors had shifted as one, their focus now on the captive. My father moved toward him, his expression fierce.
“What was Sigtrygg’s plan?” Leif asked before I could respond.
His eye still warily on my father, the captive answered, “King Sigtrygg pretended to want a treaty with the king of Mide, and it was your father who invited us to his kingdom. But then, he didn’t expect us to arrive on the Lord’s day,” he said with a nasty sneer. “They were as easy to slaughter as lambs. Your father included,” he added, boldly meeting my gaze.
“Brave words for a man who is about to die,” I said, relaxing my hold on Sleipnir. He stalked forward menacingly. I drew my sword. “You have confessed to killing my clansmen, and for this, I will have justice.”
He stood unblinkingly before me, his eyes cold and unafraid. Had he worn the same unfeeling expression as he killed my family? Movement caught my attention, and I halted Sleipnir. My father had drawn level with me. He glanced up at me and freed his sword, determination evident in the set of his shoulders.
I would execute the man quickly by beheading, but I doubted any punishment my father had in mind would be as swift. As I looked at the condemned man, I could hear the screams of the two hundred dying men, burned alive.
“He is yours to do with as you will,” I said to my father.
There was no hesitation. He sped forward so quickly his movement was blurred, and I could only see the result: the captive’s entrails pooled at his feet. Beside me, Arin leaned over and was sick, and even my own stomach churned.
Even more disturbing was the silence that this gruesome display was carried out in. My father had uttered not a single sound, and he returned to his place among the other warriors just as quietly.
Based on my father’s reaction, it was clear the man had been the one to behead him, and some of my disgust was tempered by righteous anger. He deserved to die, and I would seek out every single one of the men who were instrumental in killing my clansmen.
As the blood continued to spill around the executed captive, I said grimly, “Bring forth the others.”
Four more men were executed, and twenty-two were added to our army. It seemed Sigtrygg had taken a small band of men to Mide, but it was only the first man who produced such a reaction in my father. I killed the rest myself, ending them swiftly. I couldn’t prevent Sleipnir from devouring their corpses, his unnatural behavior too disturbing even for Leif’s battle-hardened men. None had become sick at the sight like poor Arin, but they had left in a hurry, with the excuse that they needed to make final preparations on the ships. By the end, I wished I could escape the gruesome scene.
After our macabre tasks were done, I’d ordered the people who had been taken as slaves from my kingdom be found. Some were, but many had already been sold and taken far away. Each loss made me want to kill Sigtrygg all over again.
With so much to be done, darkness came much too soon and not soon enough. I was exhausted and longed for my bed at home in Mide with its warm furs and downy pillows. Here I would receive no such luxury. I spent my first night as queen bedded down in the stables. Though it was only the throne room and surrounding halls that had burned, the smell of smoke lingered, strong enough to cause our eyes to water ceaselessly. In contrast, the stall was warm, and the hay smelled sweet. In the past, I would’ve slept in the same stall as Sleipnir. But now not even I was willing to lose myself in vulnerable sleep beside a creature whose eyes glowed red in the darkness.
I tossed and turned, unable to find a position comfortable enough to rest. I missed Leif’s strong arms around me, the smell and feel of his soft fur mantle, the clear night sky above us. Without the excuse of acute grief and the lonely, cold nights on the run to push us into each other’s arms, we’d gone back to sleeping separately. But now I wondered why I thought it was necessary to maintain modesty—who was watching? Who would even care? Angry with myself now, I squeezed my eyelids shut . . . only to open them again at the sound of a boot rustling the straw of the stall.
Leif stood over me, his expression hopeful and sheepish both. He held his leather chest piece over his shoulder. My eyes swept over his muscular form, clearly revealed by his light linen tunic and leather leggings. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, and lay down beside me as if he belonged there.
Pleasure bloomed within me at the thought that he had felt the same as I. I rolled to my side and met his heated stare. “I couldn’t either,” I admitted. “I’m nervous about this trip north.” He was quiet, so I kept talking. “I’ve never been anywhere but éirinn, and I’ve never been on a ship—not even a fishing boat.” I rubbed my arm, feeling strangely vulnerable revealing such comparatively inconsequential fears. We’d faced far greater dangers. It felt silly to admit I was afraid of a wooden boat on the water.
He shifted so he was facing me. “I don’t want you to worry. The journey north is an easy one this time of year, and I’ve sailed it many times. But at the same time, I understand that sadness and fear of leaving your own land. I know how difficult this is for you, but I’m so happy you’re coming with me—that I can share the beauty of sailing in open water with you.”
His words made the tension in my muscles melt away. I trusted him, and if he said it would be okay, then it would be. “I’d like to share that with you, too.”
He touched my cheek, his thumb just barely brushing my lips. “I don’t know if I can hold to our agreement tonight, Princess. I want to kiss you. I want to do much more than that, but I wouldn’t want to tempt fate.”
Desire rose so quickly within me it became an aching need. Before I’d even formed a rational thought in my head, I leaned over him and pressed my lips to his. He pulled me closer until our chests were flush against each other. Our lips parted hungrily, his tongue meeting mine, setting my whole body aflame. My hands slipped beneath his tunic, and it wasn’t long before he sat up and pulled it over his head. His armor had hidden several tattoos. A skeletal dragon curled around his shoulder blade; both biceps were covered with beautifully intricate knotwork patterns; and across his back was a massive war hammer, encircled by chains and runes.
I drank in the sight of them, tracing each one with my fingertip. “These are so beautiful,” I said.
“I will tattoo every inch of my body if you’ll keep touching them like that.”
I smiled. “No scars to mar them. You’ve been victorious in battle—at least, until you met me.”
A growled laugh escaped him, and he pulled me down beneath him.
Our tongues met again as his hands swept over my body, leaving trails of fire everywhere he touched. He kissed me until we both panted for breath, until I could think of nothing but the steely hardness of his muscles, the fullness of his lips. My nails raked his back as he kissed the side of my neck. My feverish desire seemed to spread to Leif, until there was a desperation to our touches.
Suddenly, he pulled back, a pained look on his face. “What is it?” I asked, and the distance between us and cool night air seemed to bring me back to my senses.
“There’s something you should know,” Leif said, his mouth drawn in a grim line. “You asked me once what it was I traded to the Valkyrie for my power.”
My stomach twisted inside me. How could I have forgotten? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, and I wanted to reach out with my hand and silence him before he could continue.
“I traded my life.”