Six
Princess Emeline
“Y ou look beautiful, Princess,” says Luceria, one of my ladies-in-waiting. I have three. None of whom is Cecily.
When I returned to Stonehill, I was broken and defeated. I have fought my entire life and have nothing but a shattered spirit to show for it. Alas, I did what I said I never would—I surrendered.
I told my father I would marry Prince Aethelwulf.
He believed it to be a trick, but he soon saw the defeat in me. He saw I was broken beyond repair, and instead of sheltering me from the cold, he threw me to the wolves.
Word was sent, and King Egbert’s men arrived at Stonehill to discuss my worth. In the end, my father sold me for five hundred pieces of silver. That’s how much I was worth in his eyes.
King Egbert promised my father the alliance of Wessex and every one of his men if another battle was to occur.
All involved were overjoyed with the transaction, all but me and perhaps my future husband, who I am yet to meet.
So, here I stand, on my wedding day, on foreign soil, about to marry a stranger. So, whether what Luceria says is true or not, I do not care.
My gown is simple, which is what I wanted. It’s blue in color with white sleeves. The color was chosen to reinforce my purity. I wear a white veil. My long hair is loose, but Luceria has plaited the sides and joined them together so one can see my face. I don’t know what they expect to see because I can’t smile. Nor scowl.
I am dead inside.
The good inside me died the night Skarth treated me far crueler than my father ever could. I was foolish to believe he actually cared. But that was my error, one which I will never make again.
A knock on my chamber door has my stomach dropping in dread. But I don’t allow my emotion to show.
“It’s time, Princess,” Lord Edward says from outside.
Of course, my father sent this lickarse to accompany me. He’s still afraid I will go back on my word.
Luceria places a white flower in my hair and smiles. “There. Now you look a bride.”
With a sigh, I try my best to return her excitement, but a blind man can see I’d rather be anywhere but here. I walk to the door, and when I open it and see Lord Edward grinning happily, I wonder if I could ask my new husband for a wedding gift—Lord Edward’s head.
Pushing past him, I make my way down the long hallway of King Egbert’s palace—my new home. The castle is utterly enchanting, twice as big as Stonehill with rich tapestries draped along the walls and gold and silver on display to parade the kingdom’s wealth.
No one could ever doubt Wessex’s affluence, and with King Egbert being the overlord of Kent, Sussex, Surrey, and Essex, that wealth just continues to grow. He is a shrewd, determined ruler, and I have sense that this union between Wessex and Northumbria will only strengthen his reign. Not my father’s.
The guards stand on command, their silver armor polished until it gleams. They bow when I walk past them, my ladies-in-waiting trailing behind. Once the chapel is steps away, I inhale, refusing to think about him because I know he is not thinking of me.
I’ve not seen Skarth since he returned me to the king. And I’m glad for it.
We rode back to Northumbria in complete silence, and that silence has continued for weeks. I don’t know where he is. He hasn’t made himself known.
A part of me wishes he was here because he was my only friend. His familiar face would give me the strength to take these final steps.
Lord Edward, however, aids me as he gently prods me, encouraging me to stop dawdling and fortify this union once and for all. The crowd inside peers outward, wishing to have a glance at their future queen. They all appear in awe of me—the princess known for not doing what she’s told.
Word spread about my defiance, so I’m surprised Prince Aethelwulf agreed to marry me. I can’t help but think there is a reason for this, but that reason will have to wait because when Lord Edward all but shoves me toward the altar, there’s no turning back now.
Even the people of Wessex appear far more prosperous than those of Northumbria. Their clothes are that of wealth, made with the finest materials and complemented with the richest jewels. My father and mother stand near the decorated altar, looking nothing but happy at this union.
Both are dressed in fine silk and jewels, ensuring no one in this kingdom would mistake them for anything other than the parents of the bride. My brother stands behind them, appearing nonchalant. This is the only blessing about this union—I’ll be away from Aethelred.
King Egbert and his wife, Queen Redburh, stand on the other side of the altar, looking on stoically. Queen Redburh is extremely beautiful, but I don’t allow her beauty to fool me because I sense a cruelness underneath her prettiness.
She enjoys the notoriety that comes with being a queen. My mother’s yellow gown pales when compared to Queen Redburh’s blue and green silk robes and complemented with a golden, jeweled crown.
King Egbert is known for being a philanderer as his good looks, as well as the title of being Lord King, allow him to choose any woman in this entire kingdom to bed.
I wonder who his son resembles more.
My questions are about to be answered because as my soft footsteps announce my arrival, the man standing at the altar turns around. He examines me from head to toe before meeting my eyes. He is nothing exceptional with no distinguishing features that stand out.
As I approach him, I bow.
“My lord.”
“My lady,” he says, his voice deeper than I thought.
He wears a black velvet tunic lined with gold trim. The long cape he wears matches his ensemble, and it’s safe to assume he had this outfit tailored for today. The elaborate gold embroidery on his front is quite detailed. This wasn’t made overnight.
My father clearly assured King Egbert that this union was taking place—with or without my consent.
His brown hair is longer than I expected, but it complements his well-groomed beard. Some may find Prince Aethelwulf handsome, but that doesn’t make a difference to me because I will never love him.
The priest stands in front of us, waiting for my father. He offers Prince Aethelwulf a dowry of silver to solidify our union. This is supposed to be a sign of respect, but I feel like I’ve just been sold.
Once the formalities are sorted, everyone takes their places, and my life changes forever.
“Prince Aethelwulf, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?”
Prince Aethelwulf looks at me and nods. “I will.”
The priest then asks me if I’ll take Prince Aethelwulf as my husband.
My lips part, but the words I know I must speak don’t come out. I clear my throat, hoping I’ll find them lost in the abyss. But I don’t.
The hushed murmurs reveal the scandal I’ve caused by not jumping to command.
Prince Aethelwulf turns to look at his father, whose lips are pulled into a thin line.
Sweat begins to gather along my brow, and I feel faint. Two simple words have never been harder to speak, and that’s because I don’t want to say them. I’d rather cut out my tongue.
If he was here, I would be able to do this, but I need to remember he abandoned me time and time again. He doesn’t care. He never did, for if he did, he would be here.
“We must do things we don’t want to.” His distinct accent echoes loudly, one that used to provide me with warmth when nothing could chase the chill away.
But now, it leaves me with a gaping hole, right where my heart once beat…for him.
With tears in my eyes, I pull back my shoulders and promise myself this is the last time I think of him. I cannot revive something from the dead.
With a broken heart, I declare, “I will,” much to the relief of my father.
We exchange rings, and the simple gold band on my finger feels heavier than the weight of the world. We bow our heads, accepting the blessing offered by the priest. Once he is done, he announces we are man and wife.
The crowd erupts into happy cheers while my husband and I awkwardly join hands. The people wish to see the happy couple, and we give them that, though both of us are equally uncomfortable. I feel absolutely nothing when we touch, unlike when I was with Skarth.
But he can no longer hold my thoughts hostage. I now belong to another.
I notice a woman with long black hair and cold blue eyes staring at us. She doesn’t appear to share the assembly of happiness, and when our gazes meet, she makes it very clear I am the enemy. She stands near Queen Redburh, which has me believing she is someone with ranking.
Prince Aethelwulf leads me down the aisle, accepting the blessings of his people. I remain dutiful, smiling like the well-behaved wife I am to be. Once we exit the church and are away from prying eyes, Prince Aethelwulf releases my hand.
“I shall return.”
“You leave so soon, Prince Aethelwulf?” I ask, unsure if this is etiquette or not.
He doesn’t mask his annoyance that I have the cheek to question him. “I am your husband, and you will address me as my lord,” he instructs firmly.
“Yes, my lord,” I reply, unsure why he’s suddenly angry with me.
The answer appears in the form of the woman I saw moments ago. “My lord,” she says, sarcasm following her.
I don’t understand what’s going on.
But when a genuine smile overtakes my husband’s face, I understand perfectly.
“Lady Osburh,” he says, taking her hand in place of mine.
He offers no explanation when they leave me standing in the hallway, alone and confused. I watch as they huddle close, with her whispering into his ear. He laughs cheerfully, soon forgetting the ring he wears on his finger is supposed to be a sign of his devotion to me .
Utterly humiliated, I quickly make a dash for my chambers, swallowing down my looming tears. Once inside, I place my back against the door and allow the tears to fall. I wish I could stop, but I am broken, and I don’t think I’ll ever be whole again.
Sniffing back my tears, I wipe my eyes and decide to take a moment to compose myself. My father won’t come looking for me as the marriage is sanctioned. There are no recants in the eyes of the Lord.
The green gardens just outside the window are a lovely distraction as I walk toward the window and admire my new home.
Is Lady Osburh Aethelwulf’s mistress? It’s not unheard of. My father has many. But it’s in poor taste for him to show her off on our wedding day. My stomach roils as this confirms just what sort of person my husband is.
The door opens, and before I have a chance to turn and see who enters my chambers without knocking, he speaks in that voice which, no matter how I hate him so, soothes me in ways it shouldn’t.
“My lady,” Skarth says, softly closing the door behind him.
I want to pretend that him being here means nothing to me, but it does. However, I wish for him not to know this, so I put on a brave face as I turn to face him.
“I believe you were not invited,” I sternly say, folding my arms across my chest.
He nods, his eyes downcast, which is unlike him. “I was not,” he replies, slipping his thumbs through his leather belt.
Why is he fidgeting?
“What do you want?” I have no patience for games.
“I came here, my lady, because I—”
Now he is stuck for words? Something is wrong.
I wait for him to continue.
“I wished to see you,” he confesses, which has come too little, too late.
“Well, you’ve seen me. Good day, Skarth.” I attempt to turn around, but he reaches for me, gripping my wrist and stopping me.
“Please, Emeline,” he says, again a first—Skarth the Godless begging. “I do not want to fight with you. I wanted to make sure you were all right. King Egbert killed my father—”
And suddenly, the truth leaves me breathless. “Is that why you are here? You wanted your revenge?” I accuse, ripping from his hold. “Now that I am Aethelwulf’s wife, you believe I can get you closer to the king. Is that why you wanted me to marry him? For your own personal gain?”
I can’t believe I actually thought he was here for me.
“ Soreinn ,” he mutters under his breath.
“Stop speaking in a language I do not comprehend!” I order, frustrated I can’t understand him. But it’s not merely his words. It’s his actions as well.
“I fear you wouldn’t understand me, regardless of what language I spoke,” he confesses with regret. “I came here because I couldn’t stomach the thought of you being mad at me.”
But I don’t believe him.
“It’s too late for that. But if you really mean it,” I challenge, walking toward him. He doesn’t flinch when I stand on tippy-toes and leave mere inches between us. “Then you will take me away from here. We will run away and be free.”
I know I speak of fantasy because that cannot happen. But it’s nice to dream.
“I made a promise to my family,” he says, which is why Skarth remains. He will not abandon them, which I admire. They are lucky to have someone fighting for their freedom.
I only have myself, which is why, without regret, I utter, “You used to be fearless. Skarth the Godless. But now, you are nothing more than Father’s puppet. I will not help you in your quest. You are dead to me.”
His jaw clenches as he measures his breaths.
“However, I ask that you promise me something.”
He inhales sharply, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
I commit him to memory—his earthy scent, his stormy blue eyes. I commit to memory how he broke me, for I will never allow another to do so ever again.
“Promise to never speak to me again.”
He doesn’t respond. He merely stands perfectly still.
“Promise me,” I demand, reaching out and gripping his wrist, rubbing my fingers over his arm ring. I cannot have him in my life. It hurts too much, and I am no longer brave.
He turns his cheek, unable to look at me. If I believed in bedtime stories, I dare say he was saddened by my request.
Peering down at our union, I realize I will miss this—his darkness has always complemented my light. He was the balance I needed to survive, but I could not rely on him any longer.
“You—”
However, words are robbed from me when he steals the breath from my lungs the moment he presses his lips to mine.
He tastes of freedom, and I am addicted to a taste I cannot have.
We fit in every way that there is, and I know he feels it too. His skin prickles, and his warmth unites with mine. The kiss is chaste, as it’s merely a touching of lips, and I know that’s because Skarth will never see me as anything but a little girl.
“I promise.” He severs our kiss, only to press his forehead to mine. The sentiment is heartfelt. Far more tender than a lover’s touch.
“I wish I never met you,” I whisper, holding back my sorrow.
“I wish that too. Far vel, hugrekki .”
He retreats while I wrap my arms around my middle, barely holding back the torrent of tears.
Before he leaves me, he grants me one final gift. With his back turned, he declares, “It means heart of a warrior…as that is what you are.”
He closes the door behind him while I crumple to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
Everyone is in merry spirits. Drinking and eating the finest Wessex has to offer. I remain quiet, smiling and nodding like the dutiful wife I am supposed to be.
Aethelwulf sits beside me, but he may as well be in another kingdom. He hasn’t asked me to dance, and instead, we both sit at the royal table, watching our guests enjoy our day. It doesn’t matter, though, because after seeing Skarth, I am not in a celebrating mood.
My father and King Egbert discuss politics, no doubt, as my father is an opportunist and wouldn’t allow an occasion like this to pass. My mother sits obediently. As for my brother, I suspect he is up to his philandering ways.
When my three ladies appear, I know it’s time.
“Excuse me, my lord,” I say, standing gracefully.
He barely looks at me and sends me away with a curt wave of his hand.
Concealing my offense, I walk through the room, thanking the guests for coming. They all look at me with hope in their eyes, as Aethelwulf and I are their future.
When we exit the great hall, Lady Osburh catches my eye. She is speaking with an ealdorman. The moment we pass, both bow in servitude, but as Lady Osburh goes to stand, she trips and falls into me.
I am about to help her, but what she whispers into my ear has me realizing this was no accident. “It’s my bed he shall be sleeping in tonight.”
Before I can react, she readily composes herself, feigning embarrassment. “Forgive me, my lady. These shoes are two sizes too small.”
Hardly believable because she’d have the tailor hung for such an oversight, but I smile nonetheless. “That’s quite all right, Lady Osburh. I believe your dress is a little snug as well? Mayhap you should try another tailor?”
I make a point to glance at her low neckline, which has her cheeks turning a bright red. Insulting one’s dress when they clearly take pride in their appearance is akin to treason.
One of my ladies snickers behind me.
“My lord, speaking in shadows with an unwed lady may not be wise,” I say sarcastically. “We wouldn’t want the kingdom rife with rumors.”
The ealdorman’s cheeks match Lady Osburh’s when they blister scarlet. I want them to know I will not be pushed around.
“Fare thee well.”
With my head held high, I gracefully tread away, biting back the victorious smirk which refuses to stay hidden. We enter my chambers, where my ladies help me undress. The unspoken lingers because the dreaded wedding night approaches.
My arrogance soon fades when I am standing in my chemise.
There is a knock on the door, and my mother appears. “Excuse us, ladies.”
My ladies bow and give my mother and me privacy.
“Are you all right, my sweeting?” she asks softly, brushing my cheek with her fingers.
“I do not need instruction. I know what’s involved,” I reply, as I’ve been told what’s expected of me. I’m to lie on the bed, where Aethelwulf will have his way with me. The entire ritual makes me unwell.
“That’s not what I ask,” she amends, catching me off guard. “You are doing your king a great honor.”
“I live to serve the king.” I can’t keep the mockery from my tone.
“But that doesn’t make what you’re about to do any easier to accept.”
I open but soon close my mouth because what she says is treason.
“Emeline, I am sorry you’ve been forced to wed someone you do not love.” She licks her red lips, appearing to weigh over what she wants to say. “But the man in which you do, you cannot have a future with. You are smitten, and that will only lead to heartbreak.”
She has stunned me into silence because she knows. She knows Skarth has my heart.
“You share an unbreakable bond. I know he would do anything to protect you.”
“He failed,” I whisper, the sadness plaguing me once more.
“This is your duty. This will ensure Northumbria’s safety.” Before I can snap that I’ve heard it all before, she adds, “But I am so sorry it has fallen to you. It’s expected of us to obey, whether we want to or not. I admire your strength, Emeline. For I could never do what you have.”
She bends down and lays a single kiss on my forehead.
“Never forget who you are. You are Princess Emeline of Northumbria. You are my daughter. And I am so proud of you.”
With her words, she has given me her strength when mine was lacking. I will do this because I am strong. I am hugrekki .
With one final hug, she leaves me with the courage I need to survive this.
I stand in the middle of the chambers, awaiting my husband, who finally appears after what feels like hours. The moment he closes the door and sways to the right, I realize he is drunk.
“My lord,” I say, bowing.
But he doesn’t appreciate the submission and storms over, slapping my cheek. “You will not speak to Lady Osburh ever again. How dare you embarrass her.”
I cup my cheek, anger rising. “She embarrasses herself, fawning over a married man!”
He snickers, making clear he too wishes this union never took place.
“I am your wife. And I will not allow you to treat me like some common whore.”
I know I need to stop, but I can’t.
Something overtakes Aethelwulf, something cruel. Instantly, I step back, but I’m not going anywhere.
“Yes, you are my wife, and you will please me how a wife should. Take off your chemise.”
Nerves overcome me, and I swallow deeply. “A little less light, mayhap?”
I attempt to siphon a candle, but he grips my wrist, stopping me.
“You are hurting me, my lord,” I say, attempting to break free. But I’m trapped forevermore.
Before I can protest, he tears the thin chemise down the front, exposing my breasts.
With a yelp, I cover my nakedness, for no man has ever seen me bare before. But Aethelwulf angrily removes my hands, where he then tears the rest of my chemise away. The ruined garment pools by my feet.
I stand before him, naked and afraid.
He takes his time examining me. It appears he likes what he sees. “Your breasts are heavy for a young child.”
“I am not a child,” I retort, angered he sees me this way yet has no qualms about bedding me.
He reaches out to cup my right breast, squeezing it crudely. I feel like a cow at the market. When he runs his hand down my stomach, I lock eyes with him, refusing to cower because that’s what he wants. He wants me afraid because that’s what makes cowards like Aethelwulf feel superior.
As expected, he stops touching me. “I can’t stand you looking at me. You are hideous. Turn around.”
When I refuse, he grips my upper arm and violently spins me around, gasping in disgust. “Your back is just as ugly as your front,” he maliciously states when he sees my scars—ones which were no fault of my own. “I was not told you were ruined.”
But that doesn’t seem to matter when I hear him unfasten his buckle with haste.
He forces me onto my stomach, pressing his hand into the small of my back so I cannot move. “Your virgin cunt will be no more, Princess ,” he snarls, “for when I am done with you, you will be nothing but a common whore.”
Panic suddenly sets in because what does he mean?
I attempt to scramble away, but he merely tightens his hold on me. “You believed this marriage was to benefit your imprudent king? Oh, silly lambkin. This was always about Wessex, and how you were our way in.”
“No!” I fight, but when he spits into his hand and crudely forces those fingers into me, I know this fight is won.
I lost.
“We will tear your precious kingdom apart, where not only will you bow to me, but your father will as well.”
Tears leak from my eyes because this was a trick. I am a political pawn, used by Aethelwulf and King Egbert to overthrow Northumbria.
“However…now I will settle for tearing you apart.” My mind detaches from my body when he thrusts into me, breaking my veil of virginity as well as my soul. “Oh, Princess, your cunt is so tight. A virgin no more.”
He commences rutting into me while I grip the blankets beneath me, refusing to cry.
“Once I am done, my men will have their fill, for you belong to Wessex now. You belong to me,” he pants, shoving his revolting cock into me over and over again.
It hurts, by God does it hurt, but I focus on that pain and store it deep within because one day, one day very soon, I will inflict that same pain on him.
I was tricked, sold to a monster by my father, who will pay dearly for his crimes. A maniacal laugh spills from me, for I know what fate befalls my father. His precious kingdom will be stolen from him…and I will be the cause of it.
“I belong to no one, my lord,” I breathe past the pain as he grunts his pleasured moans. “Break my body for it is nothing but a shell. But you’ll never break my heart, my spirit, for they belong to me.”
He brutalizes me in ways no man ever should, and when he shudders, spilling his seed into me, I am thankful it is done. It was over far sooner than I thought it would be.
But we are not done. Things have just begun.
“We shall see about that.” Aethelwulf grips my hair, arching my neck back at a painful angle, and bites my throat. When he lets go, I feel blood trickle from the wound.
I remain perfectly still as I hear him redress, only to open the chamber door.
“She’s all yours.”
I quash down my fear, for I remember who I am…a princess…I am hugrekki .
“Thou dost takest my breath away,” King Egbert says, closing the door. “My son was merciless. But I will not be. I will treat you well. Would you like me to, my lady?”
“Yes, King Egbert,” I whisper, suddenly realizing that what lies between a woman’s legs can be used for her gain, just as a man’s can.
“Sweet lambkin. You serve your king well.” King Egbert disrobes and carefully mounts me, complimenting my beauty as he softly caresses my back.
The moment he enters me, commending my beautiful cunt, I disengage from reality and merely focus on the one thing which courses through me—revenge. I will take this kingdom…and burn it to the fucking ground.