Viking Warrior, Unwilling Wife. Michelle Styles

expected him to be?’ Her full bottom lip curled slightly and her eyes became daggers. ‘My father has never been foolish.’

      ‘It was foolish to try to hold this hall with such a force.’

      ‘One has to do something when raiders come calling.’

      ‘I will grant you that.’ Vikar looked at his former wife with narrowed eyes. Most women would have been wailing and tearing their hair. but Sela looked as if she wanted to run him through. Her beauty had grown and matured in the intervening years since they had last seen each other. Tall, proud and defiant in her borrowed chain mail and trousers, yet somehow absurdly feminine. Vikar refused to feel pity. This situation was entirely of her making. ‘Your father should be ashamed sending you out to do his job.’

      ‘Thorkell forced it on him. My father and I had to make the best of what little remains. And we have done so.’ Her eyes flicked around the large bare room as if searching for something.

      ‘That is open to interpretation,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘My business is with your father, and as my men have paid the price in blood, I expect to speak with him, and to offer him my protection.’

      ‘You mean his surrender.’

      ‘If you want to call it that—yes. It is over, Sela. How many more must die?’

      ‘You wouldn’t. I surrendered. The battle is over.’

      ‘Not until I see Bose the Dark. Take me to him.’ He stared at her, and she was the first to flinch. Her head was bowed and her body hunched. Defeated.

      ‘He was in his chambers when we last spoke. Now allow me to retire.’

      ‘There, it was not difficult. And where is he now? He will surrender to me, Sela.’

      ‘Thorkell will have something to say…’ Now she was just trying to stall him, to give her father more time to get away with Kjartan.

      ‘Thorkell will approve of my action and I know your penchant for disappearing.’ Vikar shook his head, remembering how easily she had vanished before. One day there and the next, gone with a scribbled rune and Bose’s messenger, Hafdan delivering the news his marriage had ended. Vikar had derived a certain pleasure at Hafdan’s expression when he realised who had ensured his place at Odin’s table. ‘Did you think I had forgotten?’

      She gave a half-shrug that could mean anything. Her face turned mutinous, her lower lip sticking out slightly in a way that he had once found charming. ‘I have never known what you remembered. Sometimes, I was certain you had forgotten our marriage and my existence.’

      ‘No, I only wished I had.’

      ‘You have fared well since we last met,’ she said in a calm measured tone and Vikar allowed her to change the subject.

      ‘You heard of the raid on the Northumbrian monastery.’ Vikar wondered briefly what she had thought when she had heard the news. Did it give her pause for thought? Did she regret divorcing him, dismissing him as worthless?

      ‘All Viken did.’ Sela inclined her head and a tiny smile touched her lips. ‘You and your fellow jaarls are famous. The saga of the voyage has rapidly become a favourite in this hall. You and the other jaarls of Lindisfarne will be remembered long after the Valkyries have called you to Odin’s banqueting hall.’

      ‘Sagas are meant to entertain. Much has been twisted and exaggerated in that particular tale. Haakon caused it to be written, and you know what he is like.’ Vikar gave a brief shrug.

      ‘I am hardly that naïve. The sagas about my father rarely hold any truth. Do you know one actually claims he stole an egg from the nest of the great aurorc who sits on the top of the tallest pine tree in the forest?’ She shifted her weight and gave a little laugh. ‘Can you imagine? My father hates heights.’

      ‘And you are sure your father remains in the hall? You are not trying to stall me while he slips away, like a rat out of one of his fabled secret passageways?’

      ‘Secret passageways?’ Her defiant chin was in the air, but her eyes held a wary look as her hand plucked at the bottom of her mail shirt. ‘Such things are far more suited to sagas than real life. You really must stop believing everything you hear, Vikar. Truly, I say this as someone who once cared about your welfare.’

      ‘You lie.’ Vikar wrapped his fingers tightly about the hilt of his sword and regained control. ‘Your father showed me one, years ago when we were first married.’

      ‘You have a good memory, then.’ Her voice was chipped ice. ‘I had forgotten it. All I know is where I left him—in bed. Weak. He has not moved since the day after Hafdan and his men departed.’

      ‘Shall we put an end to our speculation?’

      ‘If you must, but I was enjoying our pleasant chat, Vikar Hrutson.’

      ‘You never could lie very well, Sela, but I will humour you.’ Vikar strode through the main hall, barely glancing to his left or right. It bothered him that Bose had decided to send his one remaining child out into battle while he stayed safely hidden. That Sela chose to fight did not surprise him. His former wife had never lacked courage. He had often thought she would be a better jaarl than her older brother. ‘One, two, three. Are you there, Bose the Dark?’

      He pushed aside the curtains that concealed the jaarl’s chambers from the rest of the hall.

      Empty. Still. Lifeless.

      Sela released a breath and fought to keep her body upright.

      Kjartan’s bird’s nest lay discarded to one side of the bed. She reached out and gently touched the delicate thing. Kjartan had been so proud of it. A lump rose in her throat. When would she see him again? When would she see her child again?

      ‘Where has your father gone?’ Vikar’s face was ice cold as he viewed her father’s empty chamber. ‘You knew they had gone when you told me to come here. I am through with your games.’

      ‘I am not my father’s keeper.’

      Sela fought the urge to sink down on the floor and offer her thanksgiving up to Frejya, Sif or any of the gods and goddesses of Aesir who might be listening. Her father had escaped, as had Kjartan. They had not been with the women. They were away from this place and not under Vikar’s rule.

      ‘Tell me where you think he is.’

      ‘I was busy with other things, and I failed to see him depart.’ Sela struggled to keep the laughter from her voice. Her father and Kjartan had escaped and nothing else mattered. She looked at Vikar, meeting his hard, green gaze. She had forgotten how handsome she once thought him with his rugged blond features. Once they had made her pulse race, and then she had learnt the sort of heart they concealed.

      ‘You are too loyal. He left you to defend the hall and fled. He deserted you, Sela. Left you to die.’

      Sela sobered and glared at him. ‘Did you expect him to stay?’

      ‘Coward was never a word I would have applied to Bose the Dark.’

      ‘He had his reasons.’

      Sela forced her face to remain a bland mask. She was certain her father had escaped to save Kjartan, once he knew who was leading the raiding party. She had to protect Kjartan. She could not risk him meeting Vikar. Then there would be no doubting who the father was. With every movement Vikar made, she could see echoes of their son.

      A child belonged to the father, after weaning age, according to Viken law. She curled her hand. She would never give her son up. Vikar had not wanted her, and he would not want her child. She refused to have her son grow up unwanted, and uncared for. She had seen how such children ran wild, and had vowed it would never happen to her child.

      ‘Is there anything else you wish to say, Sela?’

      ‘If you will permit me, Vikar, to retire to my chamber and change into my ordinary clothes, perhaps we can discuss