Chapter 10
RASHA
Waking up alone is almost painful. I don’t remember going to my room or saying goodbye. The last thing I do remember is listening to Shaw talk about his family. He might have mentioned his mother giving him Aslaug, which is all a fuzzy blur in my addled mind.
My arms and legs hurt from the near hypothermia last night, and my thighs are slick with arousal. I dreamed of Shaw joining me in the tub, making my heart further entangled than I intended.
Aslaug is gone, out in the forest, hopefully hunting and putting plenty of space between Harald’s awful men and herself. I wait alone for the sun to fully awaken and the day of sitting with Harald at the Yule log to begin.
Sitting up, I pull Shaw’s shirt off my body and lay back down. We smell like one another. Ice and fire, honeyed wine and holly berries. The combination is enough to make me want to pleasure myself.
Pushing the blankets off, I shiver in the cold air and pray to the goddess that I will somehow be released from the infatuation overwhelming me.
I pray that my blood seeping through the ice is enough to awaken Skadi in any form and show me the way to her bow.
Maybe Shaw really does have a map that is worth something?
We could buy or bargain our way out of bending a knee to Harald and the King.
Shaw’s hazel’s eyes roaming over my naked body in his room take precedence in my tortured mind.
We were slightly tipsy when I touched his chest, laid a hand on his thigh, and leaned into his powerful pull.
He might have dipped his beautiful jaw into my neck or carried me to bed, but my memory is a blur.
I wanted to ask him to stay, that much I know. My hands travel over my body the way I wanted his hands to, caressing my stomach until my heart flutters against my ribs, and my legs fall open on the soft mattress.
I am alone.
The thought comforts me, and I trace the outside of my wet cunt. If I need him in this way, how will I agree to marry Harald? My chest tightens in panic, and I decide to let go of fearing what is to come. At least for this moment.
My fingers dip into my aching flesh, and I can’t hold back the softest moan, encircling my clit till my breath comes in shallow pants.
My taut muscles contract and throb to the point of pain as I slip two fingers inside, sliding in and out, giving myself what I desperately need.
I find my own raw, untouched walls and delve into the blissful madness of wanting Shaw to be the one who stretches me.
Splaying my knees open, I press my palm against my clit and continue working my fingers inside myself.
Cresting to an orgasm, I hear the wind rattle the window Aslaug broke, easily breaking through the loose lock. A cold, snowy gust kisses my sweaty nipples. The sudden chill takes me over the edge, and my legs shake while I come, squeezing my fingers with each clench and release.
Spent and laying on the bed, I decide that if I can’t find the bow, I will sacrifice myself before I marry Harald. I will die before I let a man take away my womanhood.
Latching on to that thought, I rise to close the window and resist the urge to leave the village through the loose slats in the wall again. I need to find a way before the end of Yule or I am going to die resisting this marriage.
I comb my hair, braiding it in sections and wind the plaits around my head to keep it off my face.
The buzzing between my legs doesn’t stop when I pull my leggings up, barely touching myself.
Adjusting my breasts in the heavy red and green dress over my warm layers makes it hard to breathe, and I half curse ever meeting such a man.
We will probably run into each other during the day or at tonight’s Divination feast and I wonder if he woke up as needy as I did?
Divination is always exciting. Who doesn’t want to learn about their doomed future?
“Rasha!” Jorvik’s voice bounces off the walls, and I stuff my knife in my dress near my rib cage before opening the door.
“Good morning,” I briskly greet him as he strides inside.
“What happened to your window?” he asks immediately. He hasn’t been here completely since the first night when we walked to the lighting of the Yule log together.
“It’s fine. A raven got in looking for food,” I answer, wondering if he will believe the deep claw marks are from a raven’s beak. Jorvik rarely hunts or deals with animals, so hopefully he will have forgotten that ravens are opportunistic birds who wait to be presented with food.
“It’s so hot in here. How much firewood do you go through?” Jorvik walks around the room, and I quickly slide Shaw’s shirt under the blankets as I make the bed.
“I am alone, so I get cold.” I shrink, using the same excuse I gave Bjorn that first night. He picks up the little, wooden carved statues that I placed on the mantle, given to me at various dinners by the little ones. Putting my fur cloak on, I tie the front up and wait for him at the door.
“Shall we go, or are you looking for something in particular?” I ask, standing in the doorway. I don’t think Shaw or Aslaug left anything, but I never know what type of mood Jorvik is in.
“You’ve slept in this room every night alone?” he asks, walking past me into the hallway. Catching up to him, we descend the stone staircase, and I nod, but that doesn’t satisfy him.
“I need you to show Harald you give a shit.”
“I told you my thoughts on Harald.”
“And you promised you’d be kinder, more malleable, but at dinner you’ve barely spoken to him. I heard from one of the girls that you were asking about the blacksmith.”
“The man who I tied with in the archery competition?”
“Don’t play dumb.” Jorvik’s anger spills over, and I straighten my shoulders as we arrive in the courtyard. “Today you will spend the whole day with Harald. And tonight too. He wants you, and all he needs is a little push.”
“I am not a breeding mare. What else can I do to secure our clan’s safety?” The courtyard is busier this morning as people collect their offerings and fill wagons with the extra supplies needed to set up the stronghold for the next week.
“Marry Harald. Accept his proposal. Give me a nephew. A son with our blood that I can use to unite us.”
I swallow bile and bite my tongue. Obviously, Jorvik has thought through everything, planning down to the next generations of my blood and using them to manipulate me.
“Harald will take our son and send him to the King or outright kill you when you are no longer necessary. Have you thought of your own safety?”
“No, because I am working on having something he needs.”
“Besides me?”
“Besides you.” Jorvik keeps me in the corner so I have no choice but to hear him out. “I heard a rumor that your new friend has a map to the reindeer, and it was stolen off his person. Is that true?”
“Why would I know that? I don’t need a map.
I am sure I can find the reindeer herd if you ever allow me to stay out on the mountain like our parents taught us,” I argue, keeping my tone low.
No one is supposed to know about the reindeer herd.
The last time they were found the clans hunted them to near extinction.
Our parents were killed because they would never have given up the knowledge they had about the reindeer’s migration patterns and because I was a reckless child.
“You need to find out from Shaw if he knows where they are.”
“Aren’t you worried if I talk to Shaw that Harald will take notice?”
“Maybe it is not such a bad thing that Harald knows he can be bested by another man? And that I, your brother and his advisor, will not be played. Now go sit for the daily offerings like the Maiden is supposed to. No matter who catches your eye, Harald will be your husband.” He turns me around by my shoulders and sends me on my way.
Stuffing my hands in the pockets of my cloak, I walk out the front gates to see Shaw leaning on the wall outside the forge.
His chin perks up when he sees me, but I keep walking.
Being pushed and pulled by the men in this awful village will end as soon as I figure out how to break through the ice covering the tomb.
“Rasha is here!” I hear my name called and look around at the crowd gathering in the bright morning sunlight. A young girl runs through the snow, followed by a group of red-faced children all carrying boughs of evergreen and wreaths of holly.
Kneeling to their level, I open my arms as they bombard me with little hands and sticky smiles, giving me things they made themselves. Proudly beaming at me, one says, “You are the prettiest Maiden we have ever had.” His blonde hair is half shaved, and his green eyes shyly look at his feet.
“Chin up,” I say, raising his round face to see me. The women behind us pass him a crown made of spun holly and white washed bones set in soft maple branches. “Did you make this for me?” I ask when their nerves take over.
“We did,” the boy says, and I tilt my shoulders forward for him to place it on my head.
“Go on, go help your parents. Leave the Maiden to her duties,” Harald calls, stomping across the ceremonial circle. The children jump, and I grab the crown before it falls, straightening myself while the children run back to wherever they came from.
“You didn’t need to scold them,” I say, brushing the snow off the bottom of my dress.
Harald offers me his elbow, which I take, and we walk to the newly constructed platform next to the Yule log.
More wood and kindling has been added under and around the log to keep it burning.
I look for where I drew the runes in blood, but the flames and cinder have already made it disappear.
“Children need to mind what their parents say and do as they are told,” Harald says, helping me ascend the two step platform. Keeping my cloak tucked around my legs to hide my body, I take a seat and watch him sit next to me.
“Ruling with a heavy hand can come back to bite you.”