The Viking's Chosen (Clan Hakon #1)

My mother turned to look at me and I hated the distress I saw in her eyes. “I am so sorry. If I had known he was such an awful man, I would have fought your father on this matter.”

“I do not blame you, or Father, for that matter,” I said, hoping she could hear the sincerity in my voice. “I will figure out a way to make the best of it.”

“I still vote we hire an assassin,” Dayna said.

“What?” Mother gasped.

I shook my head and patted her shoulder. “Do not mind her. Dayna says things before thinking of the repercussions.”

“That is not true, Sister. I know the consequences of hiring an assassin—death. Specifically, the death of that awful excuse for a man.”

Lizzy snickered.

“Do not encourage her.” I warned my middle sister.

“Dayna, you must not say such things,” Mother chastised. “If heard by the wrong person, those words could get you hanged.”

Dayna did not look concerned in the least.

My mother eyed me critically before chuckling. “That really is a terrible dress. I picked that out?”

“You were going through a phase.” I grinned. “And it proved to be useful after all.”

“I must admit, if you were attempting to turn him off, you might have come close by attending the banquet in such a state. But, Allete, your beauty still shines through.”

“You have to say that—you’re my mother.”

“That does not make it any less true,” she replied.

“So, are we to continue with trying to make you as unattractive as possible during the courtship?” Lizzy asked.

“That would have been the plan, but Cathal chastised me at dinner and told me I am only to wear the clothes he has brought for me.”

“Where are they?” my mother asked.

Dayna was already making her way to my wardrobe. When she pulled the doors open, we all gasped. It was full of lavish dresses—all in the latest style—which I was not fond of.

Lizzy pulled one out and tugged at the bodice. “Where is the rest of the front?”

Dayna snapped. “That prick.”

My mother rounded on her. “Where did you learn such language?”

She shrugged. “Cook.”

Mother shook her head, but was once again distracted by the dress Lizzy was holding.

“It is the popular style in France,” I said. “The tight bodice is cut especially low so it can effectively push up a woman’s… assets.”

“Just say breasts—they push up your breasts so a man can have a conversation with them instead of your face,” Dayna huffed. “I’m sure this was designed by a man. It is ridiculous.”

“I cannot believe he wants me to parade around so exposed,” I muttered, almost to myself.

“I can,” Lizzy said as she put the dress back. “To him, you are like a prize mare. He wants to prance you around so everyone can gawk over you as, if he had something to do with how you turned out.”

I walked to my bed and flung myself on it, shutting my eyes as I felt like the walls closing in around me. I could not escape my fate, and it just kept getting worse.

“Do not fret, sister mine,” Dayna said, patting my arm. “I have another idea. So, he wants you to look beautiful—fine. If we cannot make you ugly, we will just make you stink.”

My eye popped open. “What?” My voice came out in a squawk. Around anyone else, I would have been embarrassed at the suggestion.

“No man wants to cozy up to a smelly woman.” Dayna pointed out. “If we make you stink, he will not want to be around you. It is genius.”

“What if I do not want to stink?”

“That does seem a little extreme.” My mother agreed.

“Picture this, dear Allete,” Dayna said as she raised her hand and gestured like she was revealing something. “Cathal’s arms are wrapped around you in a tight embrace. His mouth is near your neck, his snake-like tongue flashing out to taste the forbidden fruit. His warm breath caresses your skin and his hands roam lower—,”

My stomach roiled. “Stop!” I practically yelled, interrupting any further perverse imaginings. “Make me stink.”

“Thought you would see it my way.”





“Magic. There are those who tremble before it, afraid of what they cannot control. Some wield it ruthlessly while others use it for good—doing what they can to help those around them, even if it goes unnoticed. Magic cannot be contained, it cannot be extinguished, and it cannot be explained. We can either accept it, learning from those who are gifted, or we can let it destroy us.”





* * *



~ Torben





I followed the crooked and bent old woman, who had introduced herself as Myra, farther into the store. My men stayed close, Brant cussing under his breath the whole way.

“Relax,” I said as I glanced back at him.

“Sure, Torben, I’ll relax,” the nervous giant responded. “Nothing to be concerned about here. There isn’t anything creepy about an ancient crone who looks as if she could turn us all into frogs, and who, by the way, knew your name even though she has never met you. Nothing terrifying about that at all.”

I understood his reservations, but I did not feel any evil emanating from the woman. She had some form of magic—that much was obvious—but that did not mean she posed a threat. Brant’s unease aside, Myra held information I needed to know.

When we reached the back of the store, she walked through a parted curtain. I paused when I felt Brant’s hand on my shoulder, but before I could speak to him, Myra’s face appeared at the opening. She looked past me to my second in command.

“I mean you no harm, big one, but it would be better if no one overheard us. It would not benefit you if any passing soldiers spotted you chatting with me,” she told him.

After a brief hesitation, he patted my shoulder, a signal of surrender, and we all followed Myra into the room. Judging by the bed, small table and chairs, and a tiny counter used for preparing food, we had entered her living space. She motioned for Brant and me to take seats as she sat opposite us. There were only four chairs; the rest of my men would have to stand. I was a little worried we would crush the small chairs beneath us. They did not exactly seem designed to handle men of our stature.

“They are sturdier than they look,” Myra said with a small smile, having noticed my observation.

Brant and I sat, and the room seemed to shrink several sizes. Right away, I noticed a small shelf, which housed many well-worn magical items: a bowl, tiles that were probably scrying dice, a looking glass, and set of tattered tarot cards.