Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
BASTIAN
“What new horrors does the day hold?” Sigrid strode from the dressing room into the bedroom and actually took my breath away.
She’d twisted a braid of her dark hair atop her head like a crown, leaving her neck bare, letting the tattoos that disappeared beneath the neck of her dress serve as tendrils of temptation.
She was a vision in a blue gown that hugged her waist, but she could’ve been wearing a filthy sack and had that impact on me.
It was just her. The focus of her gaze. The knowledge she was my wife.
She cocked an eyebrow when I stood staring at her instead of answering her inquiry. What did the day hold? A precarious balancing act of convincing my wife not to slaughter my people when I hadn’t yet seemed to convince her not to murder me.
“A banquet in our honor to start the day. Then I’ll train with my men while you’re introduced to the royal ladies.”
Laughter bubbled from her. “Absolutely not. Saxon women seem to be fragile creatures—tell them some Saxon-lady malady has befallen me.”
Was she simply saying that so she could ambush everyone? She watched me from beneath her lashes, waiting to see my reaction.
“Think of Layla.” I watched her closely in return, wondering if I’d be able to tell whether she already knew Layla was safe.
She rolled her eyes. “I am thinking of Layla. If I cut a Saxon’s throat at breakfast, she’ll be executed.
I can only be expected to tolerate so much.
” She huffed. “Besides, I’ve bought my brother days to get his mate back.
If he can’t retrieve her in that time, he doesn’t deserve to call himself a berserker. ”
Even if she hadn’t opened up about her fears the night before, I would’ve been able to tell from the line of worry in her brow that she didn’t mean it.
I gently placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to soothe her concerns, but she jerked away from my touch with a vicious glare. “Last night changes nothing.”
It changed everything. The stakes couldn’t have been higher. I had to convince her that not all Saxons deserved to be punished in order for her to avenge Axel. But if I’d learned anything about her, it was that I’d get nowhere by trying to force her hand.
“If you come to the banquet, I’ll take you out to the woods later to train. Have you ever gone this long without holding a weapon?”
Her expression remained stony, but I didn’t miss the way her sword hand clenched.
“Fine,” she said flatly, but when her eyes swept up the lines of my formal tunic, she couldn’t quite hide the look of interest. Icy as she was, she still wanted me.
I offered my arm, knowing full well she’d reject it. And I didn’t bother to hide my smile when she predictably swept past it and opened the chamber door herself.
We crossed the corridors silently, walking next to each other but not quite touching. It was strange to feel out of place in what should have been my home. In the five years I’d been gone, the castle itself had hardly changed; every stone in every hallway still looked the same.
I was the one who’d changed.
As the quartermaster of a pirate ship, I’d lived a life of freedom from all the constraints of the Saxon court.
My captain had been a woman, so it felt deeply uncomfortable to suddenly be around so many women who were expected to be silent and deferent.
I’d never really noticed their treatment before, but now it was impossible to ignore.
I wanted to shake them by the shoulders and tell them they were allowed to have a voice.
But the reality was that, in this court, they weren’t.
Few men even were.
As pirates, we’d all been equals. Every member of the crew had a vote. We all had jobs to do, but no one was considered less worthy than another. Our captain made the decisions in moments of crisis, but we could’ve voted for a new captain if she’d failed to fulfill her job adequately.
Here, all the bowing and scraping simply because of my birth was exhausting.
Because I’d chosen to leave, no one here respected me, but still they called me my lord and bowed in my presence.
It was an infuriating charade that I didn’t think I could play in forever.
Already the frustration was festering, threatening to burst from inside me.
We approached a group of nobles who curtsied or bowed politely but kept their eyes cast down. As soon as we passed, they turned to each other and began to whisper in hushed voices.
Sigrid glanced at me. “I can’t tell if they hate me or you more. The Viking torture master or the coward prince.” She tilted her head like she was considering it. “At least they respect me.”
I had no witty response for such a stinging remark, and I couldn’t even blame her for it. I’d brought this upon myself.
She noted my silence and rolled her eyes. “Why do you give a fuck what any of them think? It’s liberating to be despised.”
“Because one day I’ll be their king.” The truth tumbled from my lips, and the acceptance of that expectation settled heavily on my shoulders. Now that I was back, I couldn’t simply abandon them again. If I hated what life was like here, I had an obligation to stay and fight for it to be better.
Sigrid let out a short laugh. “As though you’ll survive that long…”
I flashed her a glare, but she ignored me.
In some ways, she was right. Assuming she and I found a way forward, I had no chance of changing anything nor helping anyone if I was friendless and isolated in my own court.
If she didn’t follow through on her vow to kill me, the disgruntled nobles would surely try.
I missed my crew. But I could build trust with people here the way I’d had to build trust with my fellow pirates when I’d been a stranger to them.
A maid turned the corner, froze with an expression of absolute terror as she looked at Sigrid, then ran back the way she’d come.
Sigrid chuckled. “They act as though I’m a Banamaer. It’s quite the compliment to know my reputation is intact, given that I haven’t even skinned anyone in years.”
“What’s a Banamaer?”
She grinned, looking at me sideways. “A living nightmare. If people think I’m the worst thing they can meet on a dark night, it’s only because they’ve never encountered the Banamaer. They’re a death cult in service of the Viking king, and they spend their entire lives preparing for one mission.
“When a Banamaer completes their training, their eyes are sewn shut and tattooed with the mark of the All Father. In return, Odin blesses them with his sight, the ability to see precisely what they need to see to complete their task and nothing more. They can cast illusions and have the power of stealth. Once they’ve executed the person they were sent to kill, they vanish back to their mountain cave and return their life force to Odin. ”
“So they succeed and they die?”
She nodded.
“And if they fail?”
She let out a laugh. “They don’t.” She tilted her head.
“Except the one my father sent after me when I defied him and killed my first husband. I expected my father to try again, barely slept for weeks because I saw the assassin’s stitched eyelids and pointed teeth every time I closed my eyes.
It turned out my father didn’t want to waste another precious Banamaer on me when he’d found leverage to get what he wanted. ”
He’d used her love of her brothers to force her into this situation. Had I ever loved someone enough to sacrifice myself like that? I would’ve given my life to protect Astrid—my captain—and my crew, but dying was easier than what had been demanded of Sigrid.
As we got closer to the Great Hall, progressively more guards lined the walkway until it was a continuous row of them all the way to the door.
I recognized some, but there were just as many who were unknown to me.
It was an unusual level of protection for a typical feast, but perhaps protocol had changed since I’d left.
Most refused to look at me, but one particularly angry face was impossible to miss as we passed.
“Don’t think that one likes you very much,” Sigrid whispered, earning a scowl of her own.
I jerked to a halt when I met the tentative smile of a younger guard. He was the spitting image of Wulfstan, and in an instant, I knew exactly who he was.
“Arnulf, I’ll be damned. You were only a boy when I saw you last. Now you’re a man grown,” I said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “And already a knight of the realm” I said, nodding to the insignia on his shoulder.
His smile grew. “Aye, my lord. It’s good to have you back.”
Even if he couldn’t possibly mean it, I appreciated the effort he was making for his father’s sake. If I was to find allies, perhaps this was a start.
“Your father must be proud.”
His smile faltered, but he straightened his back. “My father has gone to God, my lord. Six months ago.”
I choked in a breath, feeling like I’d been punched in the stomach. Wulfstan was a bear of a man, a warrior even Sigrid would’ve admired. He’d always seemed indestructible in a way that made it hard to fathom a world in which he no longer existed.
“How?” I rasped, not trusting myself to speak.
Arnulf’s eyes shifted nervously. “Bandits called the Shrikes, my lord. He and my mother were accompanying a supply train through the Shepherd’s Pass to visit our family in the country, but they never made it through.
It’s said that the Shrike King added them to the mound of skulls he uses as a throne.
” His expression turned bleak. “We could only bury the parts we found impaled.”
Wulfstan’s wife, Udela, had been a maternal figure through my childhood. She could hardly be called warm, but she was loving in her own austere way. That she’d met such an end…
“‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” I said, not fighting the emotion that flooded my voice. He deserved to hear my pain for their loss.
“He wouldn’t have blamed you,” Arnulf said, swallowing his own feelings. “But he’d be glad you’ve returned.”