Chapter Six #2
‘What is taking you so long, my men are hungry!’ he snarled impatiently running a hand through the mess of his dark hair.
He stopped dead when he saw her thigh and stared at it as if he’d never seen a woman’s naked leg before.
The knot of his throat worked as he swallowed and slowly raised his eyes.
Skadi wasn’t sure what to make of his lust-filled gaze and was surprised when a shiver of pleasure ran down her spine. But she dismissed it as pure vanity. Heimdall had grown bored of her over the years—it was flattering to be considered beautiful again…even if it was by her enemy.
With a bad-tempered huff, she finished buckling the weapon and then dropped her leg, sweeping the fabric back into place with a flick of her wrist. ‘I am ready.’ She glanced meaningfully at Brenna who nodded, subtly patting her own leg, where her blades were also hidden.
Surrounded by their enemy they had to be prepared for anything.
They had agreed already that Brenna would sleep with Astra in Skadi and Astra’s old room tonight—she would not eat with them. Brenna would be responsible for all of Astra’s meals and care, as her unofficial personal guard.
Already, Agnar’s second, Vali, had moved his things into Brenna’s old room, so it had seemed natural that Skadi insist her close friend sleep with Astra and not lose her place of respect within the hall.
The room also had a small shuttered window high up by the roof, which could be reached with enough chests stacked on top of each other—Skadi had moved many into the chamber claiming they were Brenna’s possessions or linen storage.
The linens could easily be tied together and used to carry them down to safety…
if things went wrong, they would have an escape route.
She shuddered at the thought.
But at least Brenna’s orders were clear. Defend Astra with her life, and get her to Gudrun. The herbalist knew the forests well, she could hide Astra there if needs be, and there was also the whaler, who had offered to take Astra and Skadi anywhere they wished.
One thing was certain. All of Skadi’s people would help her—many had already pledged their allegiance, whispering vows of loyalty among the deliveries.
After careful thought, Skadi had decided that Astra would be safest with King Olaf in the far north—her mother’s people.
But honestly, she wasn’t even sure if that was the wisest choice.
If there was going to be a power struggle among the petty kingdoms—her uncle included—perhaps King Sven was a wiser choice after all?
Although it made her stomach churn…because Astra would still be a hostage regardless…
or worse, married off while still a child.
No, she could not risk such a thing!
‘Is Astra not joining us?’ he asked.
Immediately Skadi shook her head. ‘Astra is too tired.’ She didn’t bother glancing back at her daughter, wanting Agnar’s focus to remain on her.
Agnar was a few feet inside the chamber and any embarrassment he might have felt at seeing her naked skin was immediately forgotten.
He examined her in the same way she might check the quality of a piece of jewellery, or a sword.
No admiration, just a cold sweep from crown to slippers.
She almost preferred the embarrassed flash of lust… at least that had felt human.
This cold assessment reminded her of how Heimdall had behaved towards her after their marriage, as if she were nothing more than a trophy that had lost its charm and beauty once it had been won.
I am a queen! she reminded herself firmly.
Ignoring Agnar’s offered arm, she strode past him and out into the main hall, adjusting the silver arm-ring that she always wore out of habit.
It had been her mother’s. Perhaps, she should give Astra the arm-ring, in case she had to send her to Olaf?
It would be a reminder and proof that they were kin.
She vowed to do so tonight after the feast.
She’d not seen King Olaf, since her wedding… My first wedding, she corrected, the thought chafing at her neck, making it hard to swallow.
But then she passed her throne and saw row upon row of benches filling the cavernous space. Hundreds of people quietened as she entered, many of them familiar faces, but a disturbingly large amount were strangers—all armed men.
Every torch was lit, painting the hall in a golden and welcoming glow.
Embroidered runners ran down the tables, sapphire blue on white linen, the colours of Thrudheim.
The banners of Thrudheim were also hung from the beams, but they were interspersed with the black head of a wolf on a scarlet background, presumably Agnar’s banner.
In front of the two thrones, a beautifully carved table had been placed.
It was set up as if for a special occasion.
Usually, she sat at the front of the hall on a similar bench to those of the crowd, although facing towards them, in case they wished to speak with her or Heimdall—if he were home.
Oddmund, Astra, Brenna and whomever they wished to favour that night would also sit with her.
But tonight, it would just be Agnar and herself, alone on the uncomfortable thrones.
She walked around the dais to reach the steps and then climbed them.
She was used to being the centre of attention and over the years she’d become accustomed to it, taking her time with everything, she did so to not make mistakes or appear uncertain.
However, when she saw the two thin cushions placed on each seat, she had a petty desire to be vindictive. Agnar was walking at a slower pace behind her, so she took the opportunity to snatch his cushion from his seat and without a glimmer of shame added it to her own.
Agnar was staring at her as he stepped on to the dais, probably wondering why she would steal something so insignificant as a cushion from him.
But he said nothing. To demand its return would seem pathetic and, of course, like all men, he was too proud to request another cushion in case it made him appear weak.
So, he sat down without comment…and then shifted, and shifted again, like a bear trying to scratch his back. He tried to do it subtly, but if anything, the frequent small movements only proved his growing discomfort and irritation.
Skadi smiled.