Chapter 1 #2
Flames begin to lick the tips of my fingers, and I pull back as the orange and yellow blaze engulfs the wood.
Standing in the heat of the growing fire, I let the wind bring swaths of warmth to my cloak and dress, ushering out the cold left by Harald and Jorvik.
I have no idea if our mother goddess heard my prayer or if the bow is real, but I have to try.
I cannot let Jorvik marry me to Harald and let the Vikings be overtaken by a King.
After a moment, I turn around and wipe the blistering wetness from my eyes. In the first moments of night, the crowd is buzzing with the promise of a feast. People start dancing, linking their arms together in front of the Yule log, and give their own thanks for another year of survival.
“Very good, Rasha. While everyone heads to the stronghold for the feast, I need you to get to know Harald,” Jorvik says, putting his hands on my shoulders to prevent me from walking away.
Katrine and Joanna are lead away by men I recognize from our clan, and suddenly, I am afraid I missed my moment to escape.
My eyes water when I try to refocus on Jorvik’s thin frame, dark and lithe in contrast with the bright white and yellow flames.
“We have eleven more days for that,” I reply.
Attempting to walk through the crowd, I know Jorvik is right behind me.
Opposite of where everyone is going, there is a wall protecting the village with a patrolled gate further away from us.
I would love to slip out and enjoy the peacefulness of the forest, but Jorvik will never permit it.
So I stop walking and hover in the empty circle.
“He agreed to marry you because you are a virgin, but it would be in your best interest to seize his heart.” Jorvik’s voice cuts through the sudden stillness of the disappearing crowd.
“I can’t believe you. You’ve gone behind my back for months, and now you want me to play nice? You have no right to sell my virtue for your own interests.”
“For all of our interests,” Jorvik spits back. He closes in on me and pulls the ties on the top of my fur cloak. The silky fur opens, and he flicks my chin up to pay attention to him. Behind my brother, I see Harald waiting by the burning log, and my heart plummets.
“Get your hands off me,” I grind out, low so Harald doesn’t get a sense of our conversation. Jorvik ignores me and pulls my red hair off my exposed neckline.
“Go, enjoy your night, Jorvik,” Harald commands. My cut palm stings, and I curse at my stupidity. I asked the goddess for help and let myself be distracted by unrealistic dreams when I should have been planning to leave the ceremonial circle as soon as I lit the log.
Gathering my heavy dress in my hands, I squeeze the fabric tightly, hoping it will stop the blood and seal the wound before Harald sees. Jorvik gives me a stern stare and walks away, following the last of the families leaving to go to the feast, till I can no longer see him.
I am left with Harald watching me. My tight dress does little to hide my strong, curved body. Walking around the sparse trees to avoid him, I have no idea why he agreed to marry a woman with nothing, but he seems far too intrigued.
“Do you want me to chase you, little Rasha?” he asks as I duck behind a tree and come around the other side to where he stands.
“Now that we are finally alone, I want to know what kind of life I will have here if I agree?” I have never been interested in finding a husband, or even laying down with a man, though that has never stopped them from finding and wanting me.
“You will pledge yourself to me and the King in good time,” he drawls.
I wind my steps around the next thick tree, but his speed is overpowering.
Suddenly he slams my back into the tree trunk as his hands squeeze my shoulders.
“Word in your clan is that you like to disobey your kin and your council.”
“I am the lead huntress and the Maiden of Yule. I didn’t receive those titles by wronging my clan.
” There is no submitting even if I wanted to.
I hold his stare, and like I predicted, he can’t peel his eyes away from my breasts as they rise and fall against the tight fabric in tune with my erratic heartbeat.
“I expect you to be a virgin.” His voice quiets, and he dips his forehead closer to mine. For the first time, I can see his parted lips, feel his hot breath on my cheeks, and I am not sure of anything anymore.
“I am, and I wouldn’t lie. But why is that important?” I ask lightly, not to sound too defensive.
“Because our marriage needs to be valid in the eyes of the King.”
The mention of the King again flusters me. Adding another man I must submit to only further resolves my need to find a way out of this in the next eleven days.
“Why?” I look for an opening around his big arms, but there isn’t one. Pushing myself around him, I hope he will concede and step back.
“First lesson, Rasha.” The dangerous edge in his voice unnerves me.
Harald takes my wrists and holds me fast against the frozen bark.
The reality of trying to do what Jorvik wants me to do comes crashing down.
“I am not to be questioned. You will bow before the King, and you will get on your knees for me.”
“Harald,” I whisper, refusing to give in or fight back.
Hearing his name, he lets go of my wrists to feel up my body.
Under my cloak, I feel him run his cold hands over my breasts, wasting no time taking what he presumes to be his.
Shuddering against him, I try to move again, but make things unimaginably worse.
“I will marry you whether you’re ready or not. Everyone will hear you scream my name, and we will be the first clan of the new religion,” Harald grunts through his words, and my mind floats from his hands trying to gain purchase on my legs to the idea of the new religion he speaks of.
“What new religion?” I ask, and he stops.
“What difference does it make? You are a virgin, which is what the King said I needed to find. He will reward us for banishing the old gods.” Harald roughly grabs my chin, bringing my face closer to his. The desire to be kissed is long gone, if it ever was present, and I struggle against him.
“You can fight all you want, but your days are numbered.” He pins me to the tree and watches me struggle to get away from his grasp. Not kissing me or trying to make me submit, but holding me there to show he is more powerful. To make me never forget this moment.
“Let me go,” I force the words out.
“I can be kind, but you have to earn my kindness,” He drops me onto my knees.
The snow numbs my hands, constricting the slit in my palm until I don’t feel anything.
Reaching through the slush, my fingers hit a rock and pick it up.
Regaining my footing, I see Harald already turning around, making it the perfect time to swing.
“Did you hear that?” he asks, as if he wasn’t just threatening my womanhood.
My hunting skills click into place, and I hide my hand, holding the rock in the swaths of the cloak.
The clash of metal on metal rings out through the forest. Looking at Harald for a split second, I am glad he is the Jarl, and this is his problem, but he doesn’t move.
“Shouldn’t we see what’s happening?” I ask, dropping the rock and tying my cloak to prevent the icy wind from further numbing my skin.
“Vikings get drunk and fight. I’m sure it is nothing,” he casually answers. I watch him look down the row of the solid pine wall to where the gate is, waiting for a glimmer of starlight reflecting off a blade or the warning bell in the guard tower.
I don’t move a muscle, expecting to hear shouts or footsteps. My ears strain to listen while Harald marches off to his stronghold. As I turn to fain dutiful behavior, I hear the awful, guttural sound of an animal in pain.
“Harald,” I whisper, but he’s already gone. The animal cries again, and my heart fractures. Nothing makes that noise unless they are close to dying. I’ll be dutiful tomorrow.
Harald will be furious because I am not following him to the feast. Leaving the Yule Log burning, I bolt down the perimeter, looking for an opening in the wall where I hear the crying animal.
I don’t know this village like I know mine.
Holding up the cloak and the dress so I don’t trip over every icy rock and snow drift, I wait to hear another sound.
This time the sounds of fighting urge me on.
Thinking better of running toward danger unarmed, I find my knife in the pocket of my cloak and take a wider path around where I last heard the scuffle of bodies.
The evergreen trees closer to the gate make it impossible to see the night sky, and suddenly, I am enveloped in the shadows of the wall.
Turning back the way I came, I squint to look for the tall flames of the Yule log, hoping it will guide me back.
Realizing this is a fool’s errand and I have no business trying to break up a fight in the middle of the woods, I look for the path back, and in an instant, I am pummeled by fur and claws.