Chapter Twenty
Ignited
Jarl Sigurdsson cleared the room after Amund arrived with a handful of warriors.
Kara recognized them from her brief visit to her husband’s home.
As much as she respected her host, she couldn’t go up to her bedchamber and ignore the fact that Aaron hadn’t sent word to her since he’d left.
No, she had the right to stay—or linger on the stairs.
“We’ve searched north and east, milord,” Amund reported. “There’s no sign of Jarl McNally or the men he rode with. I also sent word to Jarl Alfgeir. He didn’t invite my master to go hunting.”
“Sit,” Tyr directed. “How long has he been missing?”
“He intended to return for the eventide meal.”
Kara’s mind whirled—her heart pounding frantically. “I must find him,” she muttered to herself.
Tyr raked his fingers through his beard.
“Hours.” He stood and started pacing. “My cousin doesn’t miss a meal.
Nor would he leave for an extended period of time with his new bride waiting abovestairs.
There’s no one in the Trondelag seeking vengeance and Jarl Erik the Bald is days away.
” He stopped abruptly. “If Aaron didn’t kill Erling Solheim, he may be to blame. ”
The spoken name obliterated Kara’s resolve. “No!” she screamed.
Tyr looked up. “Come here.”
Heavy-hearted, she stomped down the steps.
Amund stood as soon as he saw her. “Milady.” He bowed.
“Save the formalities for another day,” she mused. “I demand to know everything—I deserve to know—Aaron is my husband.”
Tyr grimaced. “I understand the urgency you feel.”
“No, Jarl Sigurdsson,” she retorted. “You don’t.” Overcome with fear and something akin to rage, Kara didn’t have the patience for coddling. “I’ve cut a man down in battle, shed blood. I’ll be treated as an equal here, not as a simpering wife.”
“But you are a wife,” Tyr reminded her.
“Does that mean I’m expected to wait behind closed doors weeping, when I could be searching for Aaron alongside these men? As long as there is breath in my body, I refuse to stay here.”
“I’ll chain you to a stake in the cellar,” Tyr warned, his eyes fiery coals. “I begin to see what my cousin meant when he claimed you were trouble. I’ll gently remind you, Lady Kara, this isn’t Lagenheim. You pleaded for sanctuary. I gave it.”
“I’m not a prisoner.”
Tyr edged closer. More monolithic than his cousin, the jarl’s close proximity made her shudder. “Oh, but you are.”
She folded her arms over her stomach. Better to acquiesce, than argue.
But everything she loved was at stake—damn Tyr’s overprotectiveness—curse Erling Solheim to the darkest regions of Hel if he lived.
She knew the evil that man was capable of, having experienced his malevolence.
“Are you aware of my history with Erling Solheim, milord?” She’d risk his displeasure once more.
“Fully aware,” he answered. “And I’m here to remind you of what your husband said before—men aren’t permitted to fight women in the real world.”
“But a woman can challenge a man.”
He spread his hands angrily. “Go to your room, now.”
“Milord . . .”
“Storr.” Tyr focused on one of his warriors. “If my kinswoman doesn’t obey me, carry her upstairs.”
“Milord.” Storr stepped forward.
“Last chance,” Tyr said.
She frowned, hating him for what he represented. Paternal authority—intimidation—utter control. Turning to the stairs, she called over her shoulder as she walked, “Allfather will aid me.”
Aaron woke with a powerful pain behind his eyes.
Darkness surrounded him. When he tried to move his hands and feet, he couldn’t.
For a second, he wanted to scream out. But then he remembered where he was.
Erling Solheim had tricked him—lured him into the woods.
Now his hands and feet were tied to four stakes in the ground.
He writhed, testing the strength of his bonds. When he moved, the ropes tightened.
“I suggest you stay perfectly still or you’ll cut off your circulation.” Erling stared down at him.
“Free one arm and I’ll kill you.”
Erling chuckled. “I do appreciate a man who’s fearless. But do try to think of this in a positive way, Jarl McNally. There are many advantages to laying on your back.” He stressed his point by booting Aaron in the ribs. “You can see everything going on around you.”
Aaron held his breath, sucking in the pain.
“You killed my cousin,” Erling continued. “It’s difficult to find trustworthy servants. Although I don’t value too many men, you’ll suffer the consequences.” He whistled and six men approached. “Bring the barrels.”
Aaron lifted his head off the hard ground and tried to watch.
But they left his line of vision, only to return minutes later carrying large, wood casks.
Again, Aaron tried to free himself by jerking his hands and feet.
The twine bit into his skin. His eyes grew wide as the drums were placed next to him.
“Three of these barrels contain water,” Erling started. “And three contain pitch.”
Aaron stared nervously at the fire a few yards away.
“I will randomly choose one, then my captain will open it—”
“Du m? betale med livet ditt.”
“Pay with my life?” Erling snorted. “You’re excessively arrogant.”
Erling pointed at the fifth keg. A man shoved a metal wedge along the side of the lid, prying it open.
Another upended it, pouring cold liquid all over Aaron.
He shut his eyes tight. Water, goddamnit, its only water.
His eyes popped open. Then he exhaled, silently praising the gods for their mercy.
Although he didn’t know why they’d let him fall prey to such wicked men.
“Again.” Erling picked another barrel.
More water.
“That one,” Erling said, choosing again.
Fate favored Aaron today, water.
Aaron coughed violently, soaked from head to foot. It took every ounce of control he had to keep his mouth clamped shut as the torrent of water spilled over him. Fuck Erling—he’d snap his neck the minute he was freed. Then he tried to unleash his hands.
His torturers hooted.
“Shall we save the other barrels until morning?” Erling asked. He faced his men. “I believe our guest is tired. And venison and ale awaits us.”
Left alone, Aaron stared above, the moon and stars reminded him of his wife. He’d willingly breathe his last if he could catch one last glimpse of her beautiful face before he died.
Kara didn’t go to her bedchamber. Instead, she withdrew further into the shadows, listening to everything discussed below.
Search parties were quickly organized and dispersed.
Waiting until the great hall fell eerily silent, she crept downstairs and slipped out the back doors.
Horses were waiting in front of the stable.
Almost too many to count. She took cover behind a nearby storage shed and waited.
Minutes later, a group of soldiers exited the stable and mounted, riding off.
At least a dozen horses were left unattended.
She weighed her options. Stay here or steal a horse and follow the search party.
She didn’t care about the consequences that would follow.
Defying men seemed to be something she did quite well.
She dashed toward the barn, seizing the reins of the closest animal, then led him away.
Behind the shed again, she opened a saddlebag and reached inside.
She found a knife and a water skin. The second contained rations of food wrapped in linens, rope, and a flint stone.
She secured the bags, then climbed on. An hour later, with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, she found their tracks in the mud headed east.
Steadily riding for what seemed hours, she stopped when she overheard men shouting ahead.
Other than the noise of her horse’s hooves pounding the earth, the world had remained silent until now.
She dismounted, letting her horse stray.
Then she followed the sound until she came to a stand of pine trees.
“We should turn southeast,” one of the guards suggested.
“No,” another disagreed. “We should stay on course.”
“Jarl McNally’s captain already combed the woods. Head toward the river—Erling Solheim may have a longship waiting,” the first man who spoke added.
They bickered back and forth, then called for a vote. Eventually, they rode southeast.
Their decision made it easier to choose her own riding direction.
She’d continue on an easterly trek, no reason to follow them anymore.
The more ground they covered, the better their chances at recovering her husband.
She found her mount grazing nearby. Drinking some water from the skin tied to her saddle, she wiped her mouth dry on the back of her hand and grabbed her knife.
The dim morning light veiled the forest in gloom.
Fear drove her onward, when exhaustion should have stopped her.
She scrutinized every inch of the forest floor, looking for footprints or remnants of a campfire.
Birds occasionally flew overhead or cried out.
But there was nothing to see. A cold hand tightened around her heart.
Tears welled up in her eyes more than once.
And then she wished for her sword and shield, her chainmail and breeches, as if iron and steel and leather could improve her chances of locating her beloved.
Or provide some comfort. She even called on her brothers and Marteinn, but no one came.
Urging her horse into a trot, she travelled another mile before she smelled smoke.
She hadn’t passed a steading since she’d left Tyr’s home.
In fact, this part of the Trondelag reminded her of the forest Erling Solheim occupied near Lagenheim.
The thought made her stomach flip. What if .
. . She slid out of the saddle, then tethered her horse to a nearby tree. What if her husband waited just ahead?
If she didn’t know better, she would have run wildly toward the smoke.
But she’d been properly trained, taught how to move stealthily through the trees.
And she did—successfully sneaking up on the small encampment.
At first, she didn’t see anyone about. As her gaze shifted, she noticed two men.
Erling Solheim stood in front of her husband, whose hands were tied to a tree branch high above his head.
Although he appeared alive, Aaron seemed to be dangling instead of standing.
Heart racing, she considered charging Erling.
“After I finish here,” Erling said. “I’ll fetch Lady Kara to my new camp and show her what she missed the first time we kept company.”
Aaron moaned.
“But before I kill you—I’ll send you to the grave knowing why I hate you—why I targeted you. Frieda is my half-sister, the mother of my only child . . .”
Kara took a deep breath. Aaron had told the truth. Not only was the child not his, its wretched mother had conceived in the vilest of ways. A crime punishable by death.
“When you cast her from your life and bed, she sought comfort in my arms. I make no fuss over what snatch I taste. Sister or not, she begged for it and I gave it to her. Many times.”
Aaron coughed. “There’s no forgiveness for your sins.”
“Spoken as a Christian or a devotee of Allfather?”
“Why Kara?”
Aaron sounded so hoarse and weak. Kara’s legs nearly gave out, but she clung to the trees on either side of her. She listened harder.
“Pure coincidence,” Erling stated. “But when I found out through my carefully placed spies that the two of you were involved, I credited the gods for my good fortune. Why not kill both of you?”
Aaron strained against the ropes. “Never.”
Erling spat on the ground, the rumble of his laughter enraged her. “All the gold in Norway couldn’t buy your freedom or life. You’ll pay for humiliating my sister with blood.”
Unable to wait another moment, she ran as hard and fast as she could. By the time Erling realized someone approached, she stabbed him in the side of his neck, but the blade didn’t go in deep enough to kill him.