5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Brunhild’s first glimpse of the each uisge kingdom filled her with unease. The island was surrounded by rocky shoals and monoliths that rose from the waves like jagged teeth.
There was a rough stone keep, a huge round tower on the headland that she assumed would be her home.
A crowd of people waited on the shore with drums and pipes and platters of food when she and her crew waded ashore after anchoring the boat. She saw her new husband land gracefully in the water, and shouldn’t have been surprised when he slid his arm around her waist just as her feet met the sand.
“We present a united front, mate,” he growled into her ear.
“Not your mate. Just your wife,” she retorted.
He made a grunting noise and didn’t reply.
As the crowd of people drew near, Brunhild was tempted to shrink against the solid wall of muscle at her back. She thrust her shoulders back and her chin forward.
“Easy wife, no one means you harm,” he murmured.
She doubted his reassurance and resented his acknowledgement of her fear. Even people she'd never met usually meant her harm, because her bloodthirsty reputation preceded her.
“Each Uisge,” Toran’s voice boomed behind her shoulder. “I present your new queen, Brunhild Ranulfsdottir, the warrior known as Fireheart.”
There was a flurry of whistles and clapping at his pronouncement.
“See, you have nothing to fear,” he murmured as he squeezed her upper arm.
Brunhild huffed in disbelief because this show of excitement was likely all meant for him.
An older woman with an imperious gaze stepped forward. “Welcome to our kingdom, Berserker’s Daughter,” she said as she swept into a low bow. “Well met.”
Her keen gaze raked over Brunhild and settled for a brief moment on her new husband’s forearm clasped around her waist.
“Well met, Aunt,” Toran nodded in acknowledgment behind her, the shift of air brushing the hair at her nape.
“There is a feast prepared in the hall. The seer knew the time of your arrival and it was made ready in advance.”
Before she could protest, he took Brunhild’s hand in his own and followed the procession that had turned to ascend the stairs carved into the side of the cliff.
Toran’s aunt led Brunhild to a room in the east end of the tower.
“A bath has been drawn, and a fresh set of clothing laid out for you, Shield Maiden.”
The woman had been silent as they meandered their way through the keep, and had yet to call Brunhild by her given name. The woman was clearly displeased by her presence.
“I am Brunhild, and what shall I call you?” She asked as the woman turned on her heel to leave.
“I am Arianrhod. I have managed matters here since the abdication of your husband’s parents.”
That was clearly a warning not to interfere with the way the household was being run.
Brunhild decided to plunge ahead with her questions. “Have I done something to offend you?”
Arianrhod snorted derisively. “Your very existence offends me, Berserker Kin. Though I harbor you no ill will, I have no love for you or your kind.”
“You have nothing to fear from me.”
The woman laughed. “I do not fear you. I merely despise you and everything you stand for. It is a sad day when the each uisge must seek the help of bloodthirsty marauders to protect their kingdom. The council advised my nephew against this course of action, as did I. But he is headstrong and would hear none of it. I hope he doesn’t live to regret his impulsiveness. ”
Brunhild squared her shoulders. “I intend to uphold my vows., and you insult my honor by suggesting I will renege on my promises.”
“Bah! I suggest no such thing. I simply mourn the fact that my nephew has forfeited any hope of a happy union in order to defend us.”
“This alliance was not of my choosing.”
This time Arianrhod bent over laughing, her arm pressed to her stomach.
When the guffaws had finally dwindled to a wheeze she straightened again.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’re likely chafing at the notion of being confined to dry land for so long, forbidden to rain down your fury and prey on innocents. ”
Brunhild narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “My raids have brought honor and spoils to my clan.”
The woman’s look was scathing. “Mayhap. And where has all this honor and glory gotten you? Shackled to my nephew. Nothing more than a pawn in the schemes of men. Wear what I’ve lain out. It’s the traditional wedding raiment for women of our clan and it’s the least you can do to honor my nephew.”
She whirled on her heel and left, with Brunhild gaping in her wake.
There was truth in Arianrhod’s words. Despite all her efforts to make herself into something more than a commodity to be expended at the will of her father and brothers, she had been relegated to nothing more than a pawn.
The reminder of her predicament, and what she’d been forced to sacrifice, stung anew. Like saltwater on an open wound.
By the time Mirren entered the room, Brunhild had put aside her bitterness long enough to remove the harness that held her axe and knives.
She was removing the scabbard at her waist when her friend’s hands brushed her fumbling touch aside.
“You are overwrought,” she said as she removed it and pushed Brunhild into a chair.
She made quick work of Brunhild’s laced boots before reclining on her heels.
“You cannot allow them to see how much they affect you,” Mirren said with a troubled gaze.
“I’m not,” Brunhild protested.
“You are. I can see it in the way you’re holding yourself. And you have that little furrow between your brows that you’ve had since we were children. It means you’re discomfited.”
Brunhild closed her eyes. Mirren always saw straight through to how she truly felt.
“I can’t help it. I have no one I can trust but you.
” She reached up to rub the back of her neck.
“My husband assures me that I can trust him as well, that he will uphold the bargains we have made, but I cannot find it in my heart to trust the words of any man. Not after a lifetime of constant betrayal by my father and brothers.”
“Until you can figure a way out of this predicament, we must make the best of things,” Mirren sagely advised as she tugged off Brunhild’s left boot.
Brunhild sniffed. “Easy enough for you to say. You can sleep on the ship if you want. Meanwhile, I’ll be forced to share a bedchamber with my new husband.”
Her friend’s face split into a naughty smile. “Even given my usual preference, I’d not scoff at the thought of that between my legs.”
“I’d say you’re welcome to sample, but he doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who would go elsewhere once he’s said his vows. No matter his other faults.”
Mirren shrugged and winked. “Suit yourself. I spotted plenty of lasses with hips and breasts just the way I like them in the crowd.”
The woman was a menace. She’d carved quite the path through their crew with her lusty appetites and on more than one occasion, Brunhild had been forced to step in and settle squabbles over who deserved her attentions.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Once upon a time, you didn’t mind,” Mirren said as she stroked her palm over Brunhild’s calf.
Briefly, when they’d first gone raiding, the excitement of their conquests had morphed into more. They’d quickly settled into friendship again, because neither one of them wanted to ruin the camaraderie they’d built and because Brunhild knew Mirren needed to be the dominant in a relationship.
It had been a very long time since someone besides herself had given her release, and Brunhild was tempted to take her up on her invitation and let her friend’s magic tongue and fingers do the work. “Nay. Go find another bier to frolic in.”
Mirren leveraged herself up and bussed Brunhild’s cheek. “I’ll go ensure the ship is safe for the night,” she said as she sauntered toward the door. “But remember, if that great beast of a man is shite in your bed, you have other options.”
This reminder was given with an elaborate sway of her hips and a wink over her shoulder as she left and closed the door behind her.
“Incorrigible,” Brunhild muttered as she tugged off her other boot and finished stripping her garments.
After she’d soaked for nearly an hour and was beginning to feel remotely human again, she finally looked at the outfit her husband’s aunt had lain out for her.
And promptly felt the need to retch because the scarlet dress left little to the imagination.
She reminded herself sh was meant to pursue glory , not attend a banquet dressed in a gown clearly designed to entice her husband.
If she was meant to wear the atrocity laid over the chair, she’d make it her own.
Brunhild had used her dagger to cut a swath of fabric from the gown, to make it tunic length so she could wear her leather braies beneath it.
She slid her gold cuffs onto her upper arms, and tied the tunic in a knot at one shoulder, covering her bound breasts.
The former gown was still far less fabric than she was accustomed to wearing, even with the alterations, and when she heard the knock on her door she girded herself for the confrontation that was sure to follow.
Her new husband strode into the room, freshly washed, his long hair slicked back into a bun at his nape. He wore a shirt for once, and Brunhild indulged in a small flicker of regret at that. Perhaps staring at his carved chest across the supper table would have made the ordeal more bearable.
When he saw her, he came to a halt. She felt his leisurely perusal to the bottoms of her feet, and the moment his gaze met hers she breathed a sigh of relief. His expression was full of mirth.
“I see you did not approve of my aunt’s choice.”
Brunhild shrugged. “ ‘Twas not my style. I have altered it as much as I could.”
“I approve,” he said with a delicious rumble in his voice.
She ignored the answering echoes that sound launched in her body. “I care not whether you approve or not. I would never don something so provocatively designed. Garnering the attention of men, or being seen as nothing more than a creature meant to tantalize them, has never been my desire.”
He just shook his head at her vehemence, chuckling softly. “Calm yourself, Fireheart. I did not intend to insult you. I merely meant that the change you wrought in the garment made it a far more suitable display of your thorny nature.”
She had nothing to say in return, because a part of her she resented was immeasurably pleased at the compliment.
He winged his arm in her direction. “Shall we, wife?”
He laughed again as she sighed.
“If I must,” she said as she slipped her hand over his forearm. She was acutely aware of his regard as they descended the staircase.
“What?” She finally asked, not bothering to disguise her annoyance.
“I think there is far more to you than your bloodthirsty reputation.”
“There is,” she agreed. “My unrelenting desire to crush my enemies beneath the heel of my boot and my unmitigated commitment to amassing as much plunder as I can before I die.”
Brunhild vowed he would never be privy to the other wants and desires that consumed her.
Her self-doubt was a weakness she shared with no one, not even her closest friend.
The guilt that ofttimes plagued her over the blood she’d spilt and the lives she’d destroyed wasn’t something she shared either.
She’d done it all to honor Freyja and her mother, and to earn her berth in Valhalla.
The dinner passed uneventfully, and when the crowd finally demanded the king and his new bride retire to their chamber, Brunhild rose reluctantly from her seat.
She allowed her husband to sweep her into his arms, because she knew it was expected.
Brunhild had never been carried in a man’s arms. She was usually just as strong and tall as they were, and it simply wasn’t feasible. But her new husband mounted the steps with ease, one arm curled around her shoulders and the other behind her knees.
After he kicked the heavy door to their shared chamber shut, he swung her about and slid her down the length of his body, until her feet touched the floor. She felt the evidence of his arousal behind his plaid as he lowered her, and heat suffused her cheeks.
When his hands went to the belt that held his plaid in place, she struck. Her cut was fast and vicious, and carved a line of blood down his cheek before he caught her hands in an iron grip.
Toran’s hands fell to her hips, manacling her wrists.
“You dare to strike me?” He hissed in disbelief.
“I’d sooner take a Kraken to my bed.”
“And I’d sooner woo a venomous asp and the Kraken never ask for what they want. They take it and then leave it broken. Be glad your father foisted you on me and not that spawn.”
“As I told you when they bound us together, my poison is warranted. I never wanted this union.”
“It was not of my choosing, either. But necessity demanded it.” He sighed and ran his hand over the shadow of his beard. “I grow weary of fighting. My enemies surround me and I would find a measure of peace in my marriage bed. May I propose a truce?”
Brunhild crossed her arms and glowered. “If your truce involves anything other than you making your bed on the floor and relinquishing the mattress to me, you’ll likely find my dagger in your ribs again. I’ll not be molested by your grimy, saltwater touch.”
“Wife, do not think your dagger will protect you. If you do aught to harm me, you shall waken the beast within.”
She snorted. “A horse, or so I’ve heard. What have I to fear from a horse? Horses can be tamed.”
“I will forgive your ignorance, as you have never seen an each uisge roused by anger or bloodlust. In our full transition, we are not a sight for the faint of heart.”
Her laughter tinkled merrily through the room and she could see her amusement both shocked and irritated her new husband. “Tell me why I should fear this beast you speak of with such reverence.”
“We are bonded to it, and it lives within us. It protects us from danger with iron sharp jagged teeth and strong hooves that strike fire against rock when they rise from the waves. We do not merely destroy our enemies, we devour them.”
Despite her amusement, Brunhild’s skin chilled at his description. Were the tales she and her people scoffed at truthful? Was she trapped on an island filled with men who could turn into ravenous beasts at any moment?
“I am not your enemy but I will defy you and this alliance to my last breath.”
“You may deny it all you want. And I’ll abide by your wishes until you beg me to touch you. Meanwhile, we’ll share a bed and I’ll keep my distance. If you ever have need of me you may touch your wrist and utter the name of my beast, Tairneanaich.”
“I will never beg for that or call your name,” she hissed as she began arranging a long line of bolsters down the center of the mattress. “You’ll remain on your side of this,” she ordered when she finished.