Chapter 11 Queen Emeline #3
“You’ve always led with your heart, and where did that get you? Fighting a defeated war, that’s where. Evolution is the key to survival. We tried it your way, and our people are dying. We cannot win.”
A guard places a metal collar around Skarth’s neck and drags him toward a post, which he ties him to.
Suddenly, it’s like the ghosts of our enemies emerge when Bodil and Inga stand beside Sigrith. The most powerful warriors are in cahoots with Aethelbald. This is why he always had the upper hand. Aethelbald thinks like a Viking because he is in line with the most brutal Vikings England has bred.
“You always had eyes on us?”
Aethelbald grins. “It was fun to see you try so hard when I knew it was all in vain. Your most trusted allies are now mine. How the betrayal must sting. False hope that you could actually win. What better way to show your enemies that they will never win?”
And he is right.
The three women in Saxon armor are evidence we failed, and if not for my children, death would be a mercy. But I cannot give up until they are safe.
“You will do what I say because if you do not, then everyone you love will pay the price.”
On cue, Lord Louis, Aric, Catherine, Alruna, Benedict, and my most faithful men are led into the square bound by rope together. They’re bleeding and dirty, and their eyes reflect how we feel that defeat is a dirty word. But Aethelbald has rounded up every ally we have.
So it appears Benedict was on my side after all.
All hope is gone.
But suddenly, a small shred of faith is restored.
Ulf.
He is not among the men and women.
I don’t know where he is, but I can only hope that he will somehow appear, just as he always does.
Sigrith reads my thoughts and steps forward, slapping my cheek. “You have done nothing but string them both along! You can’t choose, so you have them both. They are weaklings for allowing you to play them like that.”
Skarth curses in Norse, words so imbued with hate and venom that the sun goes into hiding and dark rain clouds suddenly appear. Thunder rips across the heavens, the sound so loud that it can only be an act by Odin.
I peer into the universe and understand that we are not alone, for revenge will be had.
Skarth laughs madly. “You will face the wrath of the gods, systur, and when you do, I will stand beside them, ensuring you are never welcomed into Valhalla. You are no longer my kin. I disown you. When I am free, and you know I will be, I will tear off your fucking head, and then… then I will bathe in your blood.”
The women appear genuinely concerned because despite their conversion, they remain superstitious at heart. And this random act of nature can only be pegged down to the act of the gods.
“Take him to the dungeons!” orders Aethelbald, clearly having had enough of Skarth.
There’s no point arguing because I know he won’t hurt Skarth. He is collateral. If I don’t concede, then Skarth pays the price. He will be kept alive until he is no longer needed.
I take in the bedlam I have created, and from love has only sprung hate.
Therefore, I utter the words that condemn us all.
“You win…your lordship. Wessex and Northumbria are yours.” I slowly get onto my knees before Aethelbald. “I accept your hand in marriage.”
Aethelbald sighs in victory as he looks down at me like I am nothing but a helpless bug. “I always win,” he whispers, roughly pinching my chin and forcing me to peer up at him. “I am going to split you apart in so many ways.”
His threat isn’t empty.
Love has led me here.
I wonder if my death will end the same way.
* * *
My wrists are overhead, tied by rope to the posts of my bed.
So reminiscent of what Aethelbald’s father did to me time and time again.
I bathed and was dressed in a sheer white gown.
Now I wait for Aethelbald to no doubt pollute me with his seed, for men think this act is to defame a woman. But they are nothing but rabid dogs, and the moment he puts his disgusting prick near me, I will bite it off.
The door opens, and when Aethelbald appears, I can’t help the laugh that spills from me. Not the response he was expecting. He enters, and I am surprised he comes alone.
“Now you look like a queen,” he says, his eyes heating when they land on my naked form beneath the flimsy nightgown.
“There is no need for small talk. Please get this over with. I have played this game before. With your father and grandfather, to be precise.”
Aethelbald loses his temper when it comes to his family, which is his collateral. And I plan on exploiting it whenever I can.
He storms over to the bed and tears off my nightgown. The front of his pants grows tight. Disgusting, just like his kin. He begins rubbing over his erection, his eyes feasting upon my flesh. I show no interest, which infuriates him.
“Look at me!”
With contempt, I do as he says.
He unfastens his trousers, and when he exposes his manhood, I burst into hysteria. Tears stream from my eyes. “Well, I now understand why you need to force marriage because no woman in their right mind would settle for that tiny slug between your legs.
“At least your father had—”
With a roar, he cuts the rope from one wrist and positions me so my head is hanging off the edge of the bed, where he forces his little frankfurt down my throat. Usually, I would gag at such an intrusion, but it barely touches the sides.
However, as promised, I bite down and lock my jaw on his tiny sausage.
It takes him a few moments before he howls, attempting to pry me off by pushing against my forehead. But I only bite down harder.
“Sigrith!” he manages to scream out.
She comes into the room, and even upside down, the humor on her face is evident. She doesn’t respect this cockroach. But she sides with him because she does not wish to fight, and for that, she is a traitor.
“Get her off!”
Sigrith’s smirk is wiped clean before she grips my jaw between her thumb and finger. She pinches my nose, and with no other choice, I have to breathe in through my mouth, letting Aethelbald go.
The moment he’s free, he slaps my cheek. “You want to behave like an animal, then I shall treat you like one.”
He storms from the room, leaving me alone with Sigrith.
She is unmoved as we stare at one another—once friends, now foes.
“I hope to wake from this nightmare, but I am not that lucky. You hate your brother and me this much that you turn your back on us, on what is right? Your nephews are held hostage to this maniac. How can you do his bidding?
“What happened to the woman I fought alongside?”
“That woman was sick of losing a battle she could not win. And this obsession that Ulf has for you must end.”
“So this is spawned from jealousy? Love does not care for one’s feelings. But I am not sorry that I love your brother. And that I love Ulf as well.”
“Their loyalty to you is the reason we are here! And you play them both.”
“I do nothing of the sort. I hold no one prisoner. The love I receive and give is not forced. Love is love, something which I thought you understood. You love Ulf. You love your brother. You knew what this would do to them. Yet you fight for a corrupt coward. Why?”
Sigrith’s stance unwavers, for she isn’t the sentimental type. “Because you are not fit to be queen.”
“And you are?”
However, the moment the words leave my lips, I realize that is exactly what she wants.
Power and greed know no bounds.
“Skarth was right, you are exactly like your mother, the woman you killed, remember? You killed her for betraying her people. And here you are, doing the same thing.”
I’ve struck a nerve because the truth hurts.
Aethelbald enters with a scold’s bridle in hand. I don’t bother fighting when he and Sigrith attach the device to my head. The iron part fixed in my mouth renders me speechless and unable to bite off pathetic appendages.
“I do not need your voice. Do that again, and I will cut out your tongue and feed it to your sons. Tomorrow, you will be more cooperative as we have a coronation to attend.”
I am left alone in the darkness, and as always, it’s in the shadows where I plan my revenge because once I am done, I will destroy this kingdom and leave nothing behind.