Seven
Princess Emeline
Three Years Later
“I wish I could stay longer,” King Egbert says, rising from my bed to get dressed. “But I cannot. Queen Redburh is always suspicious.”
And she has every right to be. Her husband has snuck into his daughter-in-law’s chambers more times than she can count.
Pulling the furs over my nakedness, I smile. It’s staged. “It’s all right, Lord King. There is no need to explain.”
Once dressed, he leans forward, pressing his lips to mine. “I wish things were different. But alas, I am doing the best I can. You are safe here in Wessex, as no one dares to touch the king’s mistress.”
It’s supposed to be a compliment. His way of expressing that he cares. But all it does is cement the fact that I am the king’s whore.
“I bid thee farewell. I will come again soon.” He looks over his shoulder at me before he parts, appearing to want to look upon me one last time. He is smitten, while I wish for his death.
Once gone, I toss back the furs and place my feet onto the cold floor. It takes a while to stand as my bones need a moment to warm up on chilly evenings such as tonight. That’s thanks to my husband, who broke my legs on escape attempt number four.
Standing, I walk over to the bucket of water and lather the soap to rid myself of the stench that stains my skin. No matter how hard I scrub, the disgusting odor always remains.
When I married Aethelwulf, I knew it would be horrible, but I never anticipated it to be the worst decision of my life.
When he revealed I was to be used as a political pawn, he meant it. Six months into our marriage, King Egbert conquered Mercia, thanks to the help of my father and his army. My father, oblivious to Wessex’s plans, thought he was reinforcing his place as king, but little did he know he only incited King Egbert’s interest in Skarth.
King Egbert wanted Skarth for his own, but my father would not trade. He knew Skarth was the reason for his victories, and if he forfeited that advantage, his army would crumble. This enraged King Egbert because no is a word he does not understand.
Therefore, King Egbert attacked my kingdom, overthrowing my father. I wondered where Skarth was, for he wouldn’t allow them to lose. I suspected my father locked him away because he wouldn’t let his prized possession fall into the wrong hands.
In the end, it didn’t matter.
King Eanred submitted to Wessex rule. This was the plan all along. This is why they sanctioned the marriage—my father never believed King Egbert would attack his kingdom, as his daughter was handed over in a sign of good faith. I was to be the bridge that knitted Wessex and Northumbria together.
But this made my father weak and complacent because King Egbert had his eye on only one thing—becoming Bretwalda. And now he is.
He is the overlord of the Saxon kingdoms, which means most kingdoms bow to him. However, with his current defeat, thanks to King Wiglaf retaking Mercia, he is out for more bloodshed.
I am the cause of Northumbria’s downfall when all I wanted to do was save her.
Under Wessex rule, Aethelwulf had our marriage annulled. Grounds were that we are too closely related because of King Egbert’s overlordship. All knew it was nonsense because the moment the marriage was void, he married Lady Osburh.
I was married for one year, and during that year, I was tortured in ways I never thought possible. Physically and emotionally, Aethelwulf did everything to break me, but he never could. He took from me physically, using my body in immoral ways. But it’s just a husk—one which refused to break.
He then resorted to breaking me—literally. Every chance I got, I tried to escape, but each and every time, I was captured and punished horribly. When Aethelwulf realized his punishments were ineffective, he resorted to keeping me restrained without shackles—he broke my legs to stop me from running.
He much preferred it this way as I was still a warm body for him to use and abuse, but with broken bones, I couldn’t fight. I was what he always wanted—submissive.
I believed they would send me back to my family, but to save embarrassment, they’ve kept me in Wessex as one of Lady Osburh’s ladies-in-waiting. I’d rather they kill me, which is why they keep me here, a prisoner, the king’s whore.
I keep to myself. I do what I’m told because I know remaining in the king’s favor is what will allow me to get my revenge. I allow him to use me and whisper sweet nothings into his ear, for a smart predator waits for the perfect moment to strike.
Now is not that time, but that time will come. I am sure of it.
Once cleaned, I redress into my simple dress. It’s to remind me of who I once was but never will be ever again. No one dares refer to me as a princess even though I still am. My father is still the king, but he obeys King Egbert’s command as he is the High King of England.
Once I step out into the hall, I lower my chin as I know my place. I should be sleeping with the other servants, but I have my chambers because of the king, which just ostracizes me all the more. The only reason I haven’t been passed around from guard to guard is because of the king. But I don’t mistake that for safety. I know, given half the chance, these men would gladly defile me in all ways that there is.
Lady Osburh is in prayer, so I do my duty and check on her son, Aethelbald. Merely a baby, I predict great things are fated for him. I may be biased, however, because Aethelbald has helped heal my wounds.
I was with child. Whether he belonged to Aethelwulf or King Egbert, I do not know, but losing my baby before he even had the chance to live was the one thing that did break me. I gave birth to a dead child, and I cradled him as if he were alive.
He is buried in the cemetery. A small cross was the only marker to acknowledge that he was there. That he was mine.
King Egbert tried to console me as he believed the child to be his, but nothing could fill the gaping hole in my chest. I thought I was broken, but this shattered me beyond repair.
“Good day, sweet prince,” I say, lifting him into my arms and kissing his rosy red cheek. He smells of innocence—how I once smelled. “Did you sleep well?”
He coos in response.
Lady Osburh will not nurse him. I barely see her interact with her child. She did the Kingdom of Wessex a great honor by bearing a son, so her job is done.
The wet nurse, Sigrith, enters, smiling when she sees me. “Good morrow, Lady Emeline. How is sweet Aethelbald?”
“Hungry, I believe,” I reply, laughing when a small hiccup escapes him.
She gestures I’m to give him to her, and there’s a reason for it. “My lady,” she says, lowering her voice. “I overheard the king speak of Northmen.”
Sigrith is my only friend. I’ve confided in her about my past, so she is aware of Skarth—although I’ve not mentioned his name.
I have a feeling she harbors her own secrets, which is why I know she won’t share mine. The palace is aware of my history, however. King Egbert has asked many times about Skarth. And each and every time, I play the fool.
He wants Skarth for his own as he, like my father, sees his worth. But no one owns Skarth. I tried that once upon a time and got my heart broken.
“What did he say?”
She licks her lips, rocking the baby gently to keep him silent. “Northmen have raided close to Carhampton. They are getting closer. King Egbert appears nervous. It’s been said over one hundred ships were seen.”
This means the Northmen are preparing for battle.
“I think Aethelwulf means to speak with you about the Northman.” The moment his father’s name is mentioned, Aethelbald begins to cry.
“Thank you for telling me this,” I say, gently caressing Aethelbald’s cheek to soothe him.
This new invasion will only intensify King Egbert’s interest in Skarth. I can only hope for his sake that he will stay away.
“I will check on Lady Osburh as she may need someone to peel her eggs,” I mock, rolling my eyes.
Sigrith laughs quietly. “She is wearing red today, so I fear her monthly courses are due.”
It’s no secret Aethelwulf wants more sons to carry his legacy, but each time Lady Osburh wears red, we know his wish has not been granted. Therefore, his foul mood passes to her, and we’re the ones who must deal with the repercussions.
God strike me down, but it gives me great pleasure knowing both are miserable. I happily suffer her wrath, knowing she is hurting.
Saying goodbye to Sigrith and Aethelbald, I exit his chambers, only to be stopped by a guard. “Lady Osburh asked for you to prepare her horse.”
I sigh, my temper rising. “She doesn’t have servants for this?”
The guard glares at me, angered I would refuse an order.
“Very well,” I amend, biting my tongue.
He snickers, joyed to have given an order I cannot decline. “On your way, whore,” he mumbles under his breath. But he wanted me to hear.
Clenching my fists by my sides, I measure my breathing to calm myself down. The guard dares me to act, but I don’t.
Turning gracefully, I walk through the castle, reminding myself that revenge looms. If the Northmen are near and they want Wessex, they won’t stop attacking. This means Wessex is in danger, and this is my time to strike.
It’s a bitterly cold morning as winter has fallen and fallen hard, so I wrap the fur shawl tighter around me. If it was up to Aethelwulf, he’d have me freeze to death. But King Egbert ensures my comfort, believing he is taking care of me.
It only motivates me further that one day, I will take his head.
The snow is thick, blanketing the once fruitful earth. This has been a particularly long winter, and I wonder if this is why the Northmen have attacked. Are they sick of waiting?
Whatever the reason, I can only hope their defeat is bloody and brutal.
I enter the stables, surprised no one is in here. Lady Osburh probably sent them away so I would be forced to do as she commanded.
Her white horse is a thoroughbred. No one could mistake him for anything other than royalty.
“Good morrow,” I calmly say, walking over cautiously. “I am a friend.”
He whinnies, taking a step back in his enclosure.
“It’s okay,” I encourage, walking closer. “We are both prisoners.”
With hands raised, I come to a stop in front of the wooden railing, wanting him to trust me. No one can tame a beast, but they can be subdued with respect.
“Shh, it’s all right.” With one hand, I reach over the railing, wishing for him to smell my hand.
Smell is so important. It can transport you to any place in time. For me, I take comfort in mint and lavender, smells that remind me of home. Freshly baked bread reminds me of being a child. I never realized how much I loved Northumbria until I was forced to flee.
Another scent hits me, one which I haven’t basked in, in a very long time. It’s my most favorite smell of all. It’s rich, earthy, and warm. It smells of home. It still gives me comfort, even when it should not.
Tears well, which is why I don’t allow myself to revisit this memory. Showing any weakness here will be my downfall.
The horse nudges my hand, accepting our friendship. He knows I mean no harm. “One day, we will both be free.”
As I’m patting him, a sense of calm falls over me. I’ve not felt it in years. The last time I remember it, it was with Skarth.
My heart, my broken heart, which beat sluggishly for so long, suddenly kick-starts once again. It beats so quickly I fear something is wrong. I was only half living, but now…I am whole once more.
“Good day…Princess.”
Closing my eyes, I pray my mind isn’t playing a cruel trick. But when I hear his composed footsteps, I know it is not.
Skarth the Godless is really here…and he is really in danger.
Spinning quickly, I don’t prepare myself because after three long years, I can finally see in color again. Skarth stands feet away, but he robs me of air.
His wild hair is styled differently. Small braids are threaded through his dark mane, which forms one long plait that runs down his back. Gold beads fasten the smaller plaits, which highlight the sides of his hair. It is cut quite short and allows me to see he has added more artwork to the side of his head.
His beard is long, fuller. It only draws attention to his full pink lips.
He wears a tight black shirt with a leather tunic over the top. It is fitted with metal studs. His trousers are also tight and dark in color. He wears brown leather boots on his feet. His knife hangs from a thick leather belt, and his custom sword is sheathed at his back.
A thick fur drapes his broad shoulders to fend off the cold, but I am suddenly burning up.
He has always been brawny, but now he is beyond muscle. He is hard and strong—the epitome of a warrior. His chiseled face is slathered in dirt, and he dons a black eye.
I thought I looked at Skarth through the eyes of a woman, but I knew nothing. Seeing him now, I yearn for him in a new light. Every part of me clenches, and my mouth salivates to taste his warm, portly lips. I want to feel his naked, hard flesh pressed to mine.
“You have grown,” he says in that accent that brings me to my knees.
“So have you,” I reply when I can find my voice.
Those blue eyes study me carefully, and I wonder what he sees. What I see is my Northman…who I still love with every fiber of my being. Staying away didn’t snuff out my feelings for him. They only lay idle. But now, they are back and almost winding me with their force.
A guard outside the stable, however, has me forgetting my feelings, and I lunge for him. “You cannot be here,” I whisper, encouraging him to crouch low as I peek outside to ensure the guard is gone.
Once we’re alone, I return my attention to him, swallowing deeply because we are mere inches apart. The heat of his body sets mine alight. Instantly, my cheeks redden.
“Are you still angry with me, Princess?”
“No. I mean yes,” I amend quickly, while an amused smirk tugs at his lips. “But I am not the one you should fear.”
“You are the only one I fear,” he confesses, startling me as his mischievous demeanor fades.
“Why are you here?” I whisper, still crouched low, still inches away from him.
“Your brother is getting married, and your mother requested I come escort you back home.”
Has his voice always been this smooth? His breath always this sweet?
Shaking my head, I need to concentrate on the fact that if anyone sees Skarth, they will alert the king.
“Did anyone see you enter the palace?”
“I am sure some did,” he replies with a casual shrug.
“Skarth,” I gripe. He doesn’t seem to understand the severity of him being here. “King Egbert is looking for you. You must leave. This instant.”
“Not without you,” he counters, stunning me once again. “I have missed you, Princess.”
“And I you, heathen, but we can speak when your life is not in danger.”
“Then I fear we shall never speak for danger seems to follow me.” He arches a dark brow and grins.
“Stop this banter,” I say with a smile, mischievously hitting his chest. The moment I touch him, however, playtime is a thing of the past.
“I cannot believe how you’ve grown,” he says once again, heating my cheeks yet again as he peruses me deliberately. “Do you not eat? You are too thin.”
“I eat,” I reply, ignoring his concern. “That’s what happens when time passes us by.” There is a sadness to my tone because so much has transpired since I saw him last.
My happiness to see him turns to anger and then sorrow because he left me here to rot.
As usual, he reads me clearly and reaches out to brush the apple of my cheek with his thumb. “Forgive me, Princess. I went back on my promise. I tried to stay away, but I could not.”
I don’t know how to reply. I asked him all those years ago to leave me be, but I was wrong to demand that of him. I spoke in anger, in self-interest because Skarth never abandoned me. He was just as much a prisoner as I was.
“Please, we will speak about this another time. You must leave.”
But all plans to flee are suddenly forsaken when King Egbert and three of his guards arrive. When he sees us huddled, his eyebrows knit together in confusion.
Instantly, I stand, knowing better than to disobey as I bow. Skarth, however, doesn’t jump to command. Instead, he leaps onto the wooden railing, taking a seat.
“Bow to your king, heathen,” a guard spits.
Skarth merely smirks in response. “He is not my king.”
The guard advances, primed to rip out Skarth’s tongue for speaking such blasphemy. But King Egbert grips his arm to stop him.
“It’s all right. He does not know the way of our values. He is pagan. It’s nice to meet you, Skarth the Godless. I am King Egbert. Welcome to Wessex.”
Skarth appears calm, but I know he is moments away from jumping down from that railing and ripping King Egbert’s beating heart from his chest. This is the man who murdered his father and sold his sister and mother into slavery.
“I am here for Princess Emeline,” he states very firmly.
King Egbert looks at me, watching for my response. I remain passive.
“What business do you have with Lady Emeline?”
“Aethelred is to be wed. Lady Emeline’s family would like her to be there.”
King Egbert waits for Skarth to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t have anything further to say. I’m surprised he even shared that morsel of information.
King Egbert doesn’t like to be challenged, and if this were anyone else, they’d be thrown into the dungeons. But King Egbert wants something from Skarth, and he won’t let him leave until he gets it.
“King Eanred never sent news of this joyous occasion. Of course, he’d want Lady Emeline there. But first, I ask you stay. Have some ale. Some food. You must be hungry after your journey.”
This is the one time I wish for Skarth to read my body language because this is a trap. My expression is solemn, hoping he will decline the offer and leave.
However, Skarth never surrenders.
Jumping down from the railing, he stands beside me, ensuring King Egbert knows he is no fool. “I am quite parched. Thank you, Lord.”
“Excellent. My lady?” King Egbert calls to me as he senses he walked into something more than just a friendly reunion. I don’t know what because I myself am confused about this moment between Skarth and me.
But without choice, I walk over to King Egbert, where he deliberately wraps his arm around my waist. Humiliation confines me, and I lower my chin, unable to face Skarth for he will see what has become of me.
His hugrekki is no more.
King Egbert escorts me from the stables, ensuring he never takes his hand off my waist. The kingdom stops what they’re doing as we pass, for a Northman walks amongst them—freely. I want to turn to look at him, but I can’t.
Every action is being watched, and if either of us alerts to something being amiss, we will pay with our lives.
When we enter the castle, I believe King Egbert will send me away. But he doesn’t. He leads us into the great hall, ordering the servants to prepare food and ale. He sits at the long table, gesturing for me to sit near him.
The only time I’ve sat at this table was at my wedding. From that day forward, I was forced to eat in my chambers. When I was given food, that is.
Sitting graciously, I fold my hands on my lap to stop from fidgeting.
Skarth sits on the other side of King Egbert, and I admire his self-control. I doubt King Egbert knows he was the one who destroyed Skarth’s family because I don’t think he’d be so eager to share a meal with the man who is intent on taking his head.
“How is King Eanred? Last I heard, he was injured in battle?”
He was? Why wasn’t I told?
“He is well. Nothing but a scratch,” Skarth replies, but I begin to wonder if he said this for my benefit.
A servant arrives with a jug of ale, pouring us a cup each.
Skarth reaches for his drink, tossing it back in one long swig. The servant refills his cup nervously.
“King Eanred is rather selfish, keeping you all to himself,” King Egbert commences, hinting at the real reason we’re here. “I’ve wanted to speak with you for a very long time.”
I remain submissive, but inside, I want to scream.
“Is that so?” Skarth says, amused. “What would the infamous King Egbert want with a heathen like me?”
King Egbert chuckles, but the sound is far from friendly. “I want to know what keeps you loyal to King Eanred. Why do you fight with him against your own people? I do not understand. What has he promised you?”
This is it, the moment when Skarth reveals just who he is and happily accepts the consequences. His revenge will be worth the bloodshed.
My breathing is labored, and my heart is nigh on exploding out of my chest.
“King Eanred captured me,” he starts, reaching for his cup of ale. “I had no choice. But as I trained his feeble army and even weaker son, I realized the rewards I reaped were much more than I could ever have by pillaging.
“Fighting the Saxons, I faced uncertain death. But knowing how both armies battle has worked to my advantage. I have land, silver…and a wife. My life is in Northumbria now. We came here to conquer, and I have done that.
“I have what I want. I am not a greedy man.”
King Egbert nods, while I can’t get the word wife out of my head. Does he speak the truth? Or is this another ploy? I do not know.
As the food arrives, the smell makes me sick. It has nothing to do with the cook, but more so, the thought of Skarth with another woman rubs my stomach raw. King Egbert reaches for the knife, indicating he will slice the meat from the wild boar.
A king serving a heathen, this is sacrilegious, but King Egbert has done this as a sign of respect and peace.
Skarth presents his plate, where King Egbert serves him well. When he reaches for my plate, I shake my head.
“You must eat, lambkin. You are nothing but skin and bones.”
He’s right. I am not of healthy weight. But my stomach has shrunk due to the years of malnutrition.
Skarth’s chair creaks, and I risk a glance his way. I see he is gripping his knife, his knuckles turning white with the force. What has caused this response?
King Egbert ignores my request and places a slice of meat onto my plate.
A low growl escapes Skarth, which, thankfully, is muted when a servant arrives with more food.
“You are wise, Skarth the Godless. May I ask, why do they call you this?”
“I do not know. It’s a name you Saxons gave to me. I assume it’s because I am without your God?” King Egbert nods but inhales his boar as Skarth then adds, “However, I’ve heard that it is because when I kill Saxons, a man will beg for mercy, forfeiting his God because he promises he will obey me solely.
“Maybe I like this name, after all.”
Skarth has insulted our faith and at King Egbert’s table, no less.
“This boar is delicious,” he says, tearing into the meat as if he didn’t just speak blasphemy to the king.
I bite the inside of my cheek to hide my smile because Skarth obeys no rules. King Egbert’s efforts at behaving civilized have failed because Skarth has no interest in pretenses.
“What if I were to offer you double the amount of silver King Eanred does? And any land you wish? A bordar, mayhap? That allows you to farm ten to twenty acres of land,” King Egbert says, revealing the real reason he’s here.
Skarth chews loudly, indicating he is bored by King Egbert’s offer.
“You will be a constable. You will command my army. Whatever you wish, it can be yours.”
This offer King Egbert presents is very generous, which reveals his desperation. Skarth could ask for anything, and the king would agree, which is why he leans forward, staring straight at me.
“And what of Lady Emeline?”
King Egbert and I both pale.
“What of her?” he asks sternly, a vein throbbing at the side of his head.
“You said whatever I wish for can be mine. Well, I want her.”
The room falls silent, apart from the thrashing of my heart.
King Egbert clears his throat. “Lady Emeline is not for trade.”
“Then we have no deal.” Skarth goes to stand, but King Egbert quickly recants his words.
“What do you want with her? She is…special to me, and I cannot let her go without something in return.”
How dare he speak about me like I’m nothing but chattel. He said I’m special to him, but he lies. He sees me as his possession, one which he can trade.
Skarth mulls over his request, eyes still locked with mine. “What do you want?”
King Egbert smiles. “Your loyalty and service to me .” He knows this means the demise of Northumbria but does not care.
Skarth takes a moment to process his demands. He is twenty-three years old, and an offer such as this will make him far wealthier than men twice his age. But it also means he will be leaving one prison cell for another.
If he agrees, King Egbert will own him—whether he likes it or not. Surely, he will decline.
But within the blink of an eye, he changes the course of everything.
“All right, I agree to your terms,” he finally says. “But Lady Emeline is mine.”
Usually, anyone claiming I belonged to them would be rather insulting, but it’s not with Skarth. I like it.
King Egbert is torn, so the question now is, what does he want more? Me? Or his kingdom?
It is no contest.
“Agreed.”
Relief lifts from my shoulders, and I suddenly feel as if I can breathe again. That, however, is short-lived when Aethelwulf and Queen Redburh enter the great hall. Their disgust is evident.
“Since when does she eat at the table?” Queen Redburh snarls, eyeing me viciously.
“Since she is the Princess of Northumbria,” Skarth utters, rising dangerously slowly. His immense height is imposing, and Queen Redburh gasps, clutching the jeweled crucifix around her neck.
“She may be a princess in Northumbria,” Aethelwulf bites back, “but here, she is a lady-in-waiting to my wife, the future Queen of Wessex.”
Skarth is unmoved by Aethelwulf’s words. “Thank you for the ale and food, but I seem to have lost my appetite. Princess, will you please take a walk with me?”
I sit with my mouth open, unsure what I’m supposed to do.
King Egbert nods. “Go. I shall speak with you later.”
He won’t touch me as he knows Queen Redburh is watching closely.
I push back my chair and stand gracefully but halt when Aethelwulf storms forward, hitting the table with his fists.
On instinct, I flinch, fearful he’s about to strike me. Skarth immediately steps in front of me, ready to spring into attack.
“A Northman has no right to make demands here in our home! Guards!” Spittle flies from Aethelwulf as he is furious.
But King Egbert kicks back his chair, standing abruptly. “Have you forgotten that I am king? Not you. You will watch the tone you take with me!”
I take a step forward, hitting the safety of Skarth’s back, and it’s here I will remain.
“You make a deal with a pagan ?” Aethelwulf asks, aghast.
He isn’t foolish. He understands there is a motive to this meeting, one which benefits the king and no one else.
“I made a deal for Wessex,” King Egbert corrects, while Queen Redburh crosses herself, asking the Lord for salvation. “I do not expect you to understand. You do not think like a king.”
Aethelwulf’s fists rest on the table. He focuses his attention my way. “You are nothing but a whore. Get out.”
Before I can stop him, Skarth reaches over the table and grips Aethelwulf by the front of his shirt. He presses them nose to nose, smirking. “Say that again, my lord. I beg of you.”
I watch with wide eyes, knowing that if Aethelwulf does what Skarth asks, it will be the last words he ever speaks.
Aethelwulf pushes him away, wiping down his clothes as if they are sullied because they were touched by a Northman. His nostrils flare like an angry bull, but he doesn’t say a word.
“I didn’t think so. Come, Princess.”
I don’t need to be asked twice.
The moment I stand next to him, he grips the crease of my elbow and all but drags me from the great hall.
He doesn’t let me go. We continue marching through the palace while I’m forced to run to keep up with Skarth’s frantic steps. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t care that he pushes through ealdormen and ladies who shriek at his presence. Nor does he care that he just changed the course of everything by making a deal with the devil.
He storms outside, heading for the small gardens. It offers us some privacy as it’s surrounded by brick walls. He only lets me go once we’re within those walls.
I rub my arm because his grip was far from gentle and watch him pace like a wild beast. “You belong to him?” he sneers, refusing to look at me.
“I belong to no one,” I sneer, not appreciating his condemning tone. “Just because you have returned does not mean all is forgotten or forgiven. I did what I had to, to survive. Just how you have.”
“That’s different,” he reproaches, finally coming to a stop. He turns to look at me. “You are the king’s mistress?”
I cast my eyes downward, which is all the answer he needs.
“ Bacraut !” he exclaims, his jaw clenched tight. “For how long?”
“What difference does it make?”
“How…long?” he repeats low.
“Since my wedding night! Does it please you to know that I’ve been passed between father and son since I was fourteen years old?” I cry, angry tears threatening to break the floodgates. “That I’ve been humiliated all in the name of war!
“I never wanted this, but I endured it because what else was I to do? I had no one. No one! You were the only person I trusted. But you discarded me, just how everyone did.”
“Discarded?” he questions, appearing wounded at my claims. “And no, it does not please me in the slightest.”
“I begged you to help me. In the forest, you were cruel, far crueler than anyone has ever been to me. The others, I do not care about, but you…I did,” I confess sadly. “You said awful things. Then on my wedding day, you could have stopped it, but you did not.
“But now you are here, and you expect me to be thankful? It’s too late, Skarth, for the damage has been done!”
He storms forward, gripping my arms and pulling me toward him. I fight, but my efforts are futile. “I said those things because I did not want to ruin your life! What can I offer you? You were always far braver than I.
“You were the one who had to walk away because I could not. If I was to do what you asked, I knew the dire consequences you would face. I was trying to save you!”
“By condemning me to hell?” I cry, tears of anger spilling down my cheeks. “I would rather die than live this way.”
“The marriage was going to happen regardless. Your father ensured it. He told me if you refused, he would have you killed. I would not force that life on you. On the run. A fugitive in your own country, because that was the only other option.
“I thought I was protecting you. I did not know of your situation until recently,” he shares, which has me stop struggling. “Your mother told me that your marriage had been annulled.”
“What did you think would happen when my father submitted to Wessex rule?” I question, the fight in me fading. “I am a stranger in this land, and Aethelwulf has ensured I know it at every opportunity he has.”
“I did not know. I do not understand Saxon law. I thought you would be safe and happy. Your mother assured me that you were. I thought I was protecting you. I tried to get word on your safety, but no one would talk, for who would trust a Northman?”
“Protecting me from whom?”
He lowers his eyes, his mouth slack as he lets me go. “From me.”
I don’t understand what he means. “Why would I need protecting from you?”
“Because you came to me as just a child. I could not pollute that innocence. You showed me kindness when you were taught hate. You risked your life, you defied your God, your king…for me. I owe you my life, and I was not prepared to ruin yours.
“Fourteen years old, you were nothing but a babe. But now, at just eighteen, you are no longer meyla, and this is why I’ve come.”
He remembered I just had a birthday. It touches me so.
His words ricochet loudly as I understand the severity of them. “My mother did not send you, did she?”
He shakes his head. “She did not.” He confirms what I knew to be true.
“Is Aethelred getting married?”
“I do not bother myself with that bacraut’s affairs. I came here to do what I should have done three years ago…I’ve come to take you home.”
I never thought I’d hear those words again. And now that they’ve been spoken, I wish to hear them again—over and over again.
“We ride from here on the proviso that we are to attend Aethelred’s wedding? The king won’t suspect a thing.”
Skarth nods, his astute eyes scanning the grounds to ensure we are still alone. “I am certain he will send his guards to accompany us, but once we’re clear from here, they will be dealt with.”
I gulp as their fate is destined for bloodshed.
“We then ride as far away from here as we can.”
“Where will we go? I cannot go back to Stonehill. King Egbert will come looking for us once word spreads.”
“I know, Princess, this is why I did not want this path for you. You will be a fugitive with all of Wessex and Northumbria searching for you. But we will be all right. I have some friends waiting for us just outside the palace walls.”
I lick my lips nervously. “I cannot ask them to risk their lives for my freedom.”
“They want to help you, Princess,” he assures me, cupping my cheek tenderly. “You do not ask anything they do not want to give.”
His touch instantly soothes me, and I lean into him. This indiscreet touching is foreign to me, but I do not object. Once, I was a child and Skarth a man, but now, I am a woman, and I want this man.
However, his words haunt me, and I press my trembling hand over his. “You have a wife?”
I wish for it to be fallacious, but when he tongues his bottom lip in contemplation, I know it is true. “Yes. Cecily is my wife.”
I nod with a smile although my heart crumbles. “I am happy for you both.”
Gently, I remove his hand from my cheek. He sighs heavily, then his eyes focus overhead before he steps in front of me, shielding me with his back.
“Someone is coming.”
We wait and see one of the king’s guards enter the gardens. “The king has requested you stay for tonight’s proceedings,” he informs us.
“What proceedings are these?” Skarth asks, ensuring I remain shielded behind him.
“The Lord King will host a full banquet in your honor. The villagers have been alerted.”
My stomach drops.
“Tell the king I accept. But come morrow, we head out at first light.”
The guard nods, not masking his disgust that the king would host a festivity for a heathen.
Once he’s gone, I whisper with Skarth’s back still turned, “This is a trap.”
“I know, my lady, which is why we leave. Tonight.”
The prospect of freedom is within reach. But what will we lose in return?