Chapter 2 #3
Vikings killed and fought and brawled, but we never hunted the defenseless. Honor required an opponent, not a victim. And for our clans, honor was the most important virtue of all—even more than the glory of battle.
“What’s this?”
The four of us froze at the deep, jarring voice shattering the thick tension, but I kept my sword raised, my feet planted.
Several warriors in full battle leathers, helmets, and war paint—as if they’d come right from the front lines—stalked through the longhouse.
They were high-ranking warriors, their presence as vicious as the axes hanging by their sides and the bloodied horns resting over their chests.
The three karls instantly shrunk back, their necks bent.
My pulse continued rising, but I refused to show it, keeping my gaze straight ahead, my body and mind ready.
“I said, What’s this?” The man in front waved impatiently, the movement so lethal that I took a breath.
Shadows from the horns on his helmet kept his face in darkness, but the scent around him—iron and sweat and death—made me take a step back and lower my sword.
He must have been a high-ranking jarl—one of the king’s most brutal soldiers.
Especially with how his men swarmed him—not for protection but out of awe, as if they didn’t want to miss a single gesture of his massive hands.
I needed to play this carefully.
The warrior took another step forward, but when I raised my chin in response, he went entirely still.
His eyes were full of darkness as well, and I shuddered when they widened, the depths of them endless.
The warrior’s brows narrowed for a single moment—a second of surprise—as he realized I was an heir, before his face became all harsh and steely lines once more.
“Someone speak,” he growled.
“She killed him,” one of the men said, his voice so squeaky I rolled my eyes. “He wasn’t armed. It wasn’t an honorable duel. The heir took it upon herself to decide his wyrd.”
I was grateful the dead man’s axe had landed close to me. Without looking down, I used my toe to push it closer to his body, quickly swiping my foot through the blood to remove any trace of what I’d just done.
“He’s lying,” I said calmly, in the voice my father used when fights would break out during our weekly village meetings. “He was armed. You can see for yourself.”
I shouldn’t have lied—that wasn’t our way either. But I hadn’t come all this way to be killed on the first night. It was their word against mine, and while some might not like it, I was the Sweengard heir. My explanation would be worth more than three karls’.
The warrior’s dark brows arched as he stared from the axe to me, then to the three men who stood frozen around the fire. “How did the fight begin?”
The men who’d tried to attack me sobered, and fear tightened their features.
Heirs died at the Hird, but what they’d done? Attacking me here in the longhouse?
It was as cowardly as me attacking someone without a weapon. And if there was one thing our king hated, it was cowards. The karls might not be as lucky as I was if I told this warrior the truth.
I set my sword on the bed when the closest man started stinking of urine, his leathers darkening as a few of the warriors behind the one before me snickered. Trading a secret for a favor was also cowardly, and I’d risked my honor enough tonight.
I’d win no favor with the king and his men if they thought I was a sniveling rat, telling on every man or woman that came for me.
“Did you go mute?” the warrior snarled.
My feet were wet with warm blood when I tilted my head. “We decided to begin training early. This man here challenged me, and I accepted.” I nodded to the body. “As you can see, I won.”
Someone choked on a laugh but quieted instantly when the warrior lifted a fist.
He stalked into the hearth, and I took a step back. When I ran out of space, my knees buckled against the bed and I was forced to sit, staring up at him. I could only make out a smirk of sharp teeth as I crossed my arms over my chest, wishing I’d taken the time to pull my trousers on.
“A challenge?” he said, his strange voice low.
“Yes.” My fingers wrapped around the edge of the cot. “You heard me right.”
His face dipped to my bare legs. “In your undergarments.”
I refused to blush. “Makes moving around easier.”
Another muffled laugh echoed behind the warrior’s broad back, and he stiffened before stalking so close I could see the muscles rippling under his leathers even in the dim light from the fire behind him.
The air filled with a buzzing that made every bit of skin on my body pebble, but I kept my head back, my shoulders low.
“Careful,” he said, his rough voice like velvet. “You might get away with that attitude at home, heir. But at the Hird, it smells like a target. Making enemies here is not a good idea, so keep that tongue behind your teeth before someone decides to cut it out.”
He sniffed the air like a wolf before spinning on his heel and stalking out of the longhouse, his men following. The heart I’d fought to keep calm began thundering, and I released a shuddering breath when the three men left soon after, leaving me alone in the large house.
Heat burned behind my eyes as I tried to get my breathing to even. I’d known the Hird would be dangerous, but the trials hadn’t even begun. I wiped at my feet the best I could as the man’s words echoed in my mind.
You might get away with that attitude at home, heir. But at the Hird, it smells like a target. Making enemies here is not a good idea, so keep that tongue behind your teeth before someone decides to cut it out.
I fisted my hands until they shook, the doubtful faces of my people—my own blood—burning like brands in my mind. I’d survived. I’d not only found a way to hide that my strength was gone but also fooled one of the king’s men. It might not have been pretty, but I’d done it.
And if someone tried to come for my tongue if I had to do it again?
“Then let them,” I whispered.
It wasn’t like I had another choice.