9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Her husband stepped forward. Their contest had been a public one, so they needed to keep up appearances. He'd hadn't won because she was distracted, but because in a stroke of luck, his throws had been more precise.
“Although I have been proven the winner, I'm surprised Brunhild Skull Cleaver isn't one of your epithets.”
She gave him a rare, gleeful smile. “That is indeed one of my epithets. And even though you've won, husband, it is clear you are in need of more practice. You seem uncomfortable with an axe in your hand.”
He slid his hand around her waist and tugged her closer. “I'd make you take your words back, Valkyrie, but we have an audience. Dissemble and fool them into thinking we are of one accord.”
Her breath hitched in her chest and she scowled to disguise the way his touch unnerved her. “I only do this because I’ll not have the blame for discord laid at my feet. They needn’t know that this victory was a way to gain my freedom.”
“A wise choice,” he rasped as he bent his head toward hers.
Brunhild longed for the touch of his lips, but feared it as well.
He was fast becoming a tether to a life she’d never wanted.
Often when she woke in their shared bed, his body enveloped hers, his lips pressed against her nape.
The weight of his calf thrown over hers and the soft huff of his slumbrous, even breath on her skin made her clench her teeth and fists.
Brunhild could ill afford weakness, and she deeply resented the effect he had on her. Even as she secretly craved it.
Now she would feel the touch of his lips on her own, and it was something she’d taken pains to avoid at all costs. His kiss was everything she’d expected and still it tore through her defenses like lightning.
His lips molded the contours of her own like a man drowning, his fingers tight on her hips.
The three days growth of his beard scraped her cheek and he groaned as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.
Brunhild gripped the sides of his coarse tunic, angling her chin so he could deepen the kiss.
She silenced the voice in her head urging caution and retreat and allowed their teeth to clash and their tongues to tangle.
Time was frozen for what felt like hours as their bodies drifted closer.
When her husband lifted his head and touched his forehead to hers, she didn’t relax her grip. Brunhild had risen onto the balls of her feet, and wound her hands in his tunic. His grip on her hips was just as fierce. “We have an audience, lass.”
She sank to the ground and stepped away, her cheeks scarlet. She couldn't believe she’d forgotten where they were. “Aye. And we’ve given them the show they wanted,” she said sharply before pressing the back of her hand to her face.
Brunhild could hear the din of the crowd now. They were thumping their chests and stamping their feet. Broadcasting their approval with whistles and wild cries.
Her husband took a step toward her and she retreated.
“You know ‘twas more than a show, Valkyrie,” he said. His brow was furrowed and his hands were clenched at his sides.
“Aye, ‘twas more than a show. ‘Twas a wager fairly won.”
Brunhild turned upon her heel and headed for the keep.
She sensed his presence behind her, the simmer of his anger as palpable as his desire had been moments ago.
She didn’t dare look over her shoulder because he might take it as encouragement.
As a softening in her regard or an invitation to approach.
She went in through the kitchens, snagging a loaf of bread set out to cool as she passed it.
She heard him grunt his approval, and knew he was grinning at her theft.
She still refused to acknowledge him, even as he trailed her up the winding stone staircase and she came to a halt before the room they shared.
When she pushed open the door, she gasped at the disarray. The clothes chest had been emptied, and everything had been strewn about the chamber. The bed linens had been tossed into a corner.
Toran pushed past her with a menacing growl.
Brunhild saw movement barreling toward them from the corner of the room and didn’t hesitate. Her axe flew past his ear with an audible hiss of air and landed with a thunk in the middle of the hooded figure’s forehead. There was a squelching sound and the assassin sank to the floor.
When Toran whirled to face her his eyes were wild, his breath harsh.
“How did he breach our defenses? If you hadn’t the senses of a wolf on the hunt I wouldn’t be standing here.”
Brunhild brushed past him. “We are not safe from harm yet,” she said as she nudged the hood aside. The man’s skin was pale green, his slanted, lidless eyes wide and staring. She let the fold of the hood drop. "What manner of creature is this?"
Toran's eyes narrowed in disgust. "That creature is one of Nighodd's half-mer half-Kraken assassins. If he doesn't have venomous tentacles, he likely has a blade coated in poison."
“It would appear you have a traitor within your walls, because he shouldn't have slipped past your guards."
"That is the only explanation. Someone that knew the whole keep would be on the field betrayed me.”
“Do you think he intended to kill you? Or merely maim?" She looked at the room and noticed the way everything had been flung into disarray. "What was he searching for? Is there something you’ve been hiding from me?”
He held his hands up. “I have nothing left to hide. Most of my treasure is now held in your father’s coffers.”
Brunhild’s gaze scanned the chaos of the room. “Well whoever this is,” she said as she flicked the hood. “I think he was looking for something and we surprised him."
“I need to speak with the council.”
“Yes, you do,” she agreed as she stood.
He tipped his head back and sighed. “I’ll summon them now.”
“I’ll take care of this,” she said as she kicked the dead assassin.
Before she could turn away, he stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“My gratitude for my saving my life a second time, Valkyrie.”
Brunhild closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she only caught the flutter of his plaid as he strode out of the room and around the corner.
Once he’d disappeared, she sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around her torso to stop the trembling.
It had been too easy for the assassin to make his way past the castle’s defenses.
She hadn’t known the depth of her fondness for her new husband until the moment her ax landed where it needed to.
As crouched beside the body to ensure the threat was neutralized, she exhaled with relief.
Brunhild’s home had never been safe from her father’s moods or his fists.
Finding a hiding place very quickly was a skill she’d been forced to hone, and now she needed to put her sleuthing ability to use.
Whoever Toran had placed in charge of ensuring the castle was impervious to its enemies had failed, and she needed to find all the cracks and make sure they were filled.
She hadn’t exchanged any courtesies with her husband’s man at arms, but she was going to batter his ears today.
The giant crossed his arms and glared. He was at least three heads taller than she was and Brunhild knew she should probably feel intimidated. She didn’t. Because her anger drowned everything else out. “Commander Glamorgan, it’s your responsibility to ensure the king is safe.”
“I do not have eyes in the back of my head, wench,” the man snarled.
“Perhaps you should ask the gods to give them to you! Your failure is inexcusable.”
“I’ve already increased the guard on the perimeter, and even now the masons are closing off all the tunnels not in use.”
“The tunnels? Is that how the assassin got in?”
“It’s the only explanation that makes sense. There were several passages that weren’t guarded - we didn’t think anyone outside of the keep’s residents knew they existed. One of them led directly to the king’s bedchamber.”
“What else is being done to ensure there are no further breaches?”
“As I’ve said, we’ve doubled the patrol along the perimeter and the tunnels are being dealt with.”
“I want you to show me everything. I’ve spent the last ten years leading raids and I’ve become very adept at finding weaknesses to exploit.”
“You can follow me around to your heart’s content, Valkyrie, as long as you can keep up. But only because my liege the king said you were to have free rein. Mind you, I don’t agree with his decision because I don’t trust you. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’re behind this attack somehow."
“I saved him from the attack. Why would I do that if I was trying to see him murdered?”
“Mayhap you did it because you want him to let his guard down around you. If he trusts you it’ll be that much easier for you to sabotage everything he’s built.”
Brunhild bit her tongue. She knew it would do her no good to argue with him, that she’d have to prove her loyalty instead.
When Brunhild finally trudged up the stairs to wash up before the evening meal, she was bone-weary.
Glamorgan’s pace had been relentless. They’d pushed aside cobwebs and explored narrow catacombs.
They’d sought out every nook and cranny and made certain all entries and exits, and every single window, were latched tight.
She unlaced her tunic and laid it in the clothes chest before she turned to the basin.
The cobwebs had unnerved her, and more than once she’d felt the trickle of tiny feet on her cheeks.
She’d bit the inside of her cheek to keep from shrieking.
If she’d broadcast her fear of spiders, she would have lost all hope of ever earning Glamorgan’s respect.
She was so weary she was debating the merits of food over the feather mattress behind her.
His arms came around her waist as she lifted the chemise over her head and startled her. His entrance had been so stealthy she hadn’t even known he was there.
She recognized his scent, so she didn’t elbow him in the ribs.
She’d bound her breasts that morning, so they wouldn’t hinder her swordplay, and the brush of his thumbs as they slipped beneath the fabric sent her pulse racing.
When he bent his head over Brunhild’s shoulder, a forelock of his hair was gossamer on her skin, and she felt it at the base of her spine.
His lips pressed the taut curve of her bicep and lingered there. She whirled in the cage of his arms and placed a hand on his chest —keeping him at bay. “We agreed we needed more time,” she admonished.
Brunhild had vowed he would never know the truth — that her world had frayed at the edges when she saw an assassin’s blade pressed to his throat. The same way it had frayed at the edges when he pressed his lips to hers in what began as a perfunctory kiss.
“I seek answers, bride.”
“Your questions can wait,” she said as she whirled on her heel. She’d decided the mattress looked too inviting to ignore.
“Nay,” he growled as he followed and pushed her onto the edge of the bed. When she bounced and fell, he pinned her wrists over her head. “Why did you save me?”
Brunhild scowled up at him. “I saved you because you are the lesser of two evils.”
His gaze searched hers. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Flame Bringer. Not even a fortnight ago, you told me you’d rather take a Kraken to bed than lie down with me.”
She flushed and rolled her eyes as she bucked her hips to dislodge him. “I am not little. And though I loathe you, I loathe the Kraken more, no matter how I insulted you on the eve of our wedding.”
“Why this change of heart?” He asked as his lower body pinned her to the mattress.
“I’ve heard the stench of a Kraken is much worse than that of an each uisge.”
He gave her a rare grin. “They are creatures of the deep. Likely covered in seaweed and barnacles.”
“I don’t care for barnacles in my bed,” she said archly. What she didn’t say was that she cared for each uisge kings with bones in their braids and blue sigils on their chests.
“What about barbarian kings who desperately want to save their islands? What about hooves and teeth? Do you care to have them in your bed?”
It was as if he’d been reading her thoughts.
“I am not as averse to them as I once was,” she said as she curled her leg around his waist to jostle them even closer. She could assuage her need and keep her counsel.
His expression was unreadable as he reached for the dagger at his waist. “Take this,” he said as he pried her hand open and laid the flat of the blade in her palm. “So you know I mean you no harm, and so you can defend yourself against my beast if need be.”
Brunhild closed her hand around it and turned away, so she needn’t meet his gaze as she slid it under the pillow behind her head. She stood again and turned to face him.
He stood too and laughed softly at her avoidance. “I knew you’d be reluctant to abandon yourself to me.”
Abandonment wasn’t something Brunhild took lightly or easily. She was accustomed to short, rough interludes in the aftermath of battle, when her body needed a release of the rage and energy that had infused her axe. Slow, languorous strokes of her skin made her nervous.
“Just get on with it and be done, each uisge.”
“I refuse to give you yet another reason to push me away,” he told her as he shook his head and feathered his hand over her hip. “We’ll do this my way or not at all.”
He removed his hands and rocked back on his heels, giving her space.
His gaze was unreadable, but she could feel the tension in his body, how tightly he leashed his desire.
A part of her wanted him ravenous and harsh, so he’d disprove his words and give her a reason to push him away.
If this was short and rough she could ignore how much she wanted to savor him.
Brunhild lowered herself to the bed again and braced her palms against the wall. “We’ll do it your way," she said as she threw him a warning look over her shoulder.
His eyes glittered as he took the end of the cloth that bound her and began to unwind it. She arched her back to give him more reach, and as the wend of fabric unfurled, she exhaled. Every brush of his knuckles in the dip of her cleavage sent her pulse racing.
When only a single strip remained, Brunhild lifted her chin in challenge and peeled it away herself.
He effortlessly flipped her about, and one calloused thumb slid down her cleavage before he scooped her into his arms and lay back.