Astrid excelled at mock fighting. She even had her own sword, Shatter, and had made friends with young women who were of an age to remember her from before but, strangely, didn’t. Had she been so different as a fourteen year old? Rolf seemed to think so. Unwisely, she had lain with him, simply because she had drunk too much ale and he had been pursuing her for ages. Now, it seemed, he wanted more and had even proposed an encounter with that middle-aged slave of his, the kind she knew too much about and didn’t want to repeat again. Ketil would probably be furious if he knew, which was why she hadn’t told him. She was only grateful he was looking after her welfare to such an extent that he wanted her out of the way when King Harald came to his demesne. It was a shame she would miss the wedding, but it would be good to see Eirik again, this time in the community close to the mountains she had heard so much about. Magnus was coming, too. It would be an opportunity to confide in him. No-

Ruth was exhausted after a long day preparing the kind of exquisite delicacies which would please and delight these unexpected yet honoured guests. The mead supplies were dwindling though she was given to understand these men from the desert lands did not partake. Then she was sent into a panic by the news that a delegation from Abadon had arrived. She hoped the wine would not run out as it would be too late to brew beer.Sending one of the village girls with a couple of guards on a possibly hopeless mission to the taverns in the district, she was pleasantly surprised by their willingness to supply ale. That would never have happened in King Gregory’s day.Leaving Jenna in charge of the gooseberry fools, she headed upstairs to her chamber. A nice soak in the tub was just what she needed. Thanks to the Queen, she no longer had to risk being propositioned in the bathhouse. In fairness, that hadn’t happened in a long time and not often. It occurred to her now, after all these months, tha

Twenty Years LaterBeyla had wandered away from the settlement, in defiance of her mother’s instructions, and now she was lost. This was embarrassing, though she only had herself to blame. Easing her fingers underneath the cloth barbette which confined her neck, she lamented the fact that it was her duty to wear something so different to anyone else. So what if her destiny lay elsewhere? Couldn’t she conform then, or maybe institute a new fashion? As Princess Consort of Vercia, surely she would have that right?Princess Amber, wife to Prince Philip, was someone she didn’t want to become. The betrothal had been arranged when they were children. Maybe she could work on her father, because all her lady mother ever talked about was Beyla fulfilling her duty. Her elder brother, Tyr, would stay here in Eggsor and become Jarl when anything happened to their father. His Vercian middle name of Edmund would be forgotten and she would no longer be around to tease him about it.Leaving him behind

Beyla learned the hard way that trying to do good deeds often backfired. Not only would Helga need recompense, the small matter of the berserkers had sent her father into a rage the like of which she had never seen. On the positive side, her mother didn’t scold her too much for discarding the barbette, admitting the day was hot. She was obviously softening her up for the next blow, which came in the form of the drab mourning attire she would be expected to don once they reached Vercia. “Forgive me, father,” she said, kneeling before him and grabbing for his hand. “It was foolish of me. But I was only trying to do good.” His face softened, highlighting the old scar, a thin line which ran from hairline to jaw. Ketil Haakonsson was in his early forties now and there was grey in the topknot which signalled him out from others. His stormy eyes were as sharp as ever and now held that indulgent look he reserved solely for her. “Just like your mother,” he murmured. The way he looked at his

Beyla watched her father kissing her mother in what seemed to her a very long and drawn out farewell. It was as if he would never let her go. She averted her face, refusing to look for Njord. What would be the point?He’d followed her back to the feasting and it seemed as if he wanted to ask her something. She did her best to avoid him until the very end, knowing it could come to nothing.That was when she had learned the shocking truth. Njord was the only one, ever, to be truly honest with her. Her close family often left many things unsaid.“If you didn’t have to follow the King’s orders, would you consider me a suitable husband?” he asked.Her mouth fell open in shock.“King Harald wishes this? Oh, why does nobody ever tell me anything?” she cried, pulling at the roots of her hair.“I thought you knew.”“Thank you for being the one to open my eyes. That explains why my mother and father blow hot and cold about the arrangement.”“Answer me, Beyla,” he urged, crowding her now.At lea