The Viking's Chosen Read online

  We walked farther into the grounds, keeping our eyes lowered so no one could later identify us. A few minutes later, we found ourselves in a dingy alley crammed with small, dilapidated shops. One caught my attention because its door was resting wide open, which would be unusual, for this time of night. The interior was cloaked in darkness and I could see nothing of the inside. A painted sign, reading Myra’s Mixes, hung on a rusty chain above the door. Seeing the place sent a jolt through my belly. I couldn’t explain why, but I felt something pulling me toward the small store, as if I was meant to go inside. There was a subtle, pulsing energy flowing out of the place. A person who had never encountered magic would not have recognized the faint traces, but I had been raised by the Oracle. Where some would feel a cold chill or the shudder of deja vu, I felt magic.

  I moved toward the door, knowing my men would follow without question, and when I inside the small hut-like room, I felt something pushing at my mind. Picturing a wall in my head, I looked over my shoulder at the warriors. “Shield your minds. There is something more at work here.” All of them had, at some point in their lives, spent time with my mother, and she was adamant that I and those closest to me learn to protect ourselves from dark power. It did not feel as though whatever presence attempting to see into my mind was dark, but I still did not like the idea of anything helping itself to my memories.

  As we crept farther into the shop, my eyes began to adjust to the dimness, the only light coming from the moonlight filtering in from the open door behind us. Suddenly, a small elderly woman stepped from behind a shelf directly to my right, and I stopped in my tracks. With whispered grunting and cursing, the men behind me stumbled into my back, challenging me to stay upright before the woman.

  “Torben, commander of the Hakon clan, king to be, I have been waiting for you,” the old woman said in an ominous voice.

  “This cannot be good,” Brant mumbled.

  “Growing up, it is fun for a little girl to dream of what her life will look like when she finally reaches adulthood. Of course, she pictures having the perfect wedding, a handsome man who adores her, and a happily ever after surrounded by lovely children. No one tells the little girl that the likelihood of these dreams coming true is about the same as that of her imaginary friend coming to life during one of their tea parties.”

  * * *

  ~Allete Auvrays Diary

  My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure everyone around me could hear it. I had never been thankful for a wildfire before, but the blaze outside the castle walls kept everyone from staring at me as I leaned as far away from Cathal as possible while he struggled to whisper in my ear. I wasn’t sure who had started the fire, but I would gladly shake their hand and thank them if I could.

  Thomas sat across the table and three seats to my left. He caught my eye and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. I really wanted to throw a chicken leg at him, but I was pretty sure Cathal might turn me over his knee and spank me in front of everyone if I did, or at the very least, scold me verbally. Pompous ass. I might never say it aloud, but I decided then I would call him P.A. to myself every time I thought of him. It was a petty and vindictive sentiment, sure, but I had to take pleasure where I could find it.

  When the king of Tara finally turned to talk to someone on his left, I picked up my fork while looking at my cousin and pretended to stab myself in the eye. Dayna, who was sitting to Thomas’ left, must have seen me, because she snorted and the sip she’d just taken spewed from her nose and mouth, sending Thomas into an uncontrollable belly-laugh. My mother stared wit at her youngest daughter, eyes wide, and my father looked at me with a knowing grin on his face. I didn’t know if he saw my gesture, but he probably guessed who had caused the commotion.

  “Excuse me,” Dayna said, patting her mouth dry. “I saw a fly in my drink as I was taking a sip and it startled me.”

  At her comment, almost everyone in the room picked up their glasses and looked down into them. Thomas was still laughing, and I was so very tempted to throw a dinner roll at him. Perhaps everyone would be too preoccupied with the possibility of ingesting an insect to notice a flying baked good.

  My father cleared his throat, immediately drawing everyone’s attention, and Thomas shot me one last wink before he, too, turned to look at my father.

  “Distinguished guests,” my father began. As he stood, he took my mother’s hand and pulled her up to stand beside him. She looked like she wanted to be there about as much as she wanted to be struck by lightning. “Please allow me to introduce our guest of honor, the noble king of Tara and my future son-in-law, King Cathal. Soon, he will wed my eldest daughter, Allete. Their marriage will not only be a happy and blessed union for the young couple, but for both kingdoms. Our subjects will soon benefit from increased trade and security, as we now have such a strong and trusted ally close by. Thank you both.” He looked at me and my gut clenched. “Marrying a stranger is no small sacrifice. We recognize the cost, and we honor you.”

  I swallowed the urge to vomit what little I had eaten all over the table—or better yet, in Cathal’s lap. This was my father’s way of apologizing to me. I wasn’t sure he fully understood how detestable the king of Tara was, but he saw enough to know that my marriage would not be a joyous one.

  Cathal gave my father a slight nod and then stood as well. I could feel everyone staring at me as I fixed my gaze on the uneaten chicken on my plate. Perhaps I was hoping that if I avoided their inquisitive looks long enough, everyone would lose interest in me, but among all the glances and stares, I felt one that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up—his. Cathal cleared his throat, and when that failed to illicit a response from me, he placed his cool hand on my shoulder. I could no longer ignore him without causing a scene, so I gathered myself and swallowed down the bile.

  I stood slowly, plastering on my best smile. Judging by the looks on the diners’ faces, I had not succeeded in appearing courtly, but may have looked a bit demented. I saw Clay take a step away from the wall where he’d been standing guard and discreetly motioned with my hand for him to stay put. Dayna stared up at me as she bit her lip, and I knew she was trying desperately not to laugh. My eyes moved over the table, taking in the faces of the courtiers, most of whom I barely knew. Some were faithful friends of our family, lords and dukes concerned about our kingdom and hopeful this new alliance would yield prosperity for our people. Others were simply there to engage in gossip and partake of the king’s free wine.

  I was so distracted by my thoughts, I did not hear Cathal speaking next to me. In fact, I did not even acknowledge him until I felt his cool hand move to my neck. I whipped my head around so fast that I nearly lost my balance due to the weight of the braids Lidia had piled on top of my head. Cathal steadied me with that damn hand on my neck and stared down at me with what must have seemed like adoration. What they did not see was the hint of violence dancing just beyond his ever-present, royal facade. He was angry—no, infuriated but I smiled sweetly at him and watched the rage in him grow. His firm grip was a reminder that he was a man, much larger than me, and he saw me as nothing more than an object to own and use whenever he pleased.

  “As I was saying,” Cathal continued smoothly, “my bride is even more beautiful than I could have imagined. I assure you all, it is no hardship to be yoked to a lovely vision such as Allete.”

  Did he nearly choke on the word, beautiful? I wondered.

  “Thank you for offering me and my people a warm welcome. I look forward to getting to know your kingdom, its people, and my bride-to-be.”

  The guests responded with gentle clapping and beaming smiles. I even heard sighs coming from some of the ladies, young and old. I nearly rolled my eyes but stopped myself when I caught Cathal’s brooding stare. He leaned near me as we sat down, as if he was stealing a quick moment to whisper something loving in my ear. Oh, how surprised our onlookers would be to know his words conveyed quite the opposite sentiment.

  “I have no idea why you showed up lo
oking like trussed-up harlot, but mark my words, you will never again embarrass me in this. From now on, you will wear only the wardrobe I brought for you.”

  I pulled back to look up at him. Nothing in his expression revealed the disgust carried in his tone of voice. I was so close to spitting in his eyes that I had to force myself to swallow down the saliva pooling in my mouth, as if my body had anticipated my desire. Taking a deep breath, I slightly bowed my head. “As you wish.”

  The dinner was agonizingly slow. So slow, that I found myself staring at the staff, willing them to move faster. But no matter how hard I glared at them, their pace did not increase. For a moment, I wished I could trade my gift of healing so I could silently influence the minds of others. How wonderful it would be to make them skip the remaining courses and bring us our desserts

  When the final course was served an hour later, I could not bring myself to eat it, even though it was my favorite. Cook must have felt pity for me and prepared peach pie.

  “Do you not like the pie, my sweet?” Cathal asked me loud enough for the entire table to take notice.

  “It is her favorite.” Dayna offered. I shot her a glare but she just smiled.

  “I foolishly overindulged and now have no room for Cook’s delicious treat.” I did not understand why I felt the need to explain myself to him.

  “But you did not eat very much tonight,” Cathal said as he took another bite of his own pie. “It would not do for you to get too thin. I prefer my wife to have a bit of girth to her.”

  That was the final straw—I was not about to sit at the table with my family and two courts from two kingdoms and allow him discuss my girth. I stood abruptly. “Please forgive me, my Lord,” I looked at Cathal, and then I turned to my father. “Father, I must retire. I suddenly feel unwell.”

  My mother, bless her soul, stood and walked to me. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and began to lead me from the room. “I will take care of our daughter, my love,” she called over her shoulder to my father. Clay followed at a discreet distance. For once, I was thankful for his presence. He would know I didn’t want Cathal following me.

  I heard Dayna and Lizzy making excuses to take their leave and then their hurried footsteps behind us. When we were a good distance from the dining hall, I let out the breath I had been holding.

  “He is positively dreadful,” Mother said with unveiled disgust thick in her voice.

  I held my finger to my lips, reminding her there were always ears listening. She nodded, and we continued the rest of the way in silence.

  We reached my bedchamber in record time. As the door closed behind my sisters, I could not help but feel that escaping to my room had become a bit of a habit in the brief time Cathal had been in our kingdom.

  My mother turned to look at me and I hated the distress I saw in her eyes. “I am so sorry. If I had known he was such an awful man, I would have fought your father on this matter.”

  “I do not blame you, or Father, for that matter,” I said, hoping she could hear the sincerity in my voice. “I will figure out a way to make the best of it.”

  “I still vote we hire an assassin,” Dayna said.

  “What?” Mother gasped.

  I shook my head and patted her shoulder. “Do not mind her. Dayna says things before thinking of the repercussions.”

  “That is not true, Sister. I know the consequences of hiring an assassin—death. Specifically, the death of that awful excuse for a man.”

  Lizzy snickered.

  “Do not encourage her.” I warned my middle sister.

  “Dayna, you must not say such things,” Mother chastised. “If heard by the wrong person, those words could get you hanged.”

  Dayna did not look concerned in the least.

  My mother eyed me critically before chuckling. “That really is a terrible dress. I picked that out?”

  “You were going through a phase.” I grinned. “And it proved to be useful after all.”

  “I must admit, if you were attempting to turn him off, you might have come close by attending the banquet in such a state. But, Allete, your beauty still shines through.”

  “You have to say that—you’re my mother.”

  “That does not make it any less true,” she replied.

  “So, are we to continue with trying to make you as unattractive as possible during the courtship?” Lizzy asked.

  “That would have been the plan, but Cathal chastised me at dinner and told me I am only to wear the clothes he has brought for me.”

  “Where are they?” my mother asked.

  Dayna was already making her way to my wardrobe. When she pulled the doors open, we all gasped. It was full of lavish dresses—all in the latest style—which I was not fond of.

  Lizzy pulled one out and tugged at the bodice. “Where is the rest of the front?”

  Dayna snapped. “That prick.”

  My mother rounded on her. “Where did you learn such language?”

  She shrugged. “Cook.”

  Mother shook her head, but was once again distracted by the dress Lizzy was holding.

  “It is the popular style in France,” I said. “The tight bodice is cut especially low so it can effectively push up a woman’s… assets.”

  “Just say breasts—they push up your breasts so a man can have a conversation with them instead of your face,” Dayna huffed. “I’m sure this was designed by a man. It is ridiculous.”

  “I cannot believe he wants me to parade around so exposed,” I muttered, almost to myself.

  “I can,” Lizzy said as she put the dress back. “To him, you are like a prize mare. He wants to prance you around so everyone can gawk over you as, if he had something to do with how you turned out.”

  I walked to my bed and flung myself on it, shutting my eyes as I felt like the walls closing in around me. I could not escape my fate, and it just kept getting worse.

  “Do not fret, sister mine,” Dayna said, patting my arm. “I have another idea. So, he wants you to look beautiful—fine. If we cannot make you ugly, we will just make you stink.”

  My eye popped open. “What?” My voice came out in a squawk. Around anyone else, I would have been embarrassed at the suggestion.

  “No man wants to cozy up to a smelly woman.” Dayna pointed out. “If we make you stink, he will not want to be around you. It is genius.”

  “What if I do not want to stink?”

  “That does seem a little extreme.” My mother agreed.

  “Picture this, dear Allete,” Dayna said as she raised her hand and gestured like she was revealing something. “Cathal’s arms are wrapped around you in a tight embrace. His mouth is near your neck, his snake-like tongue flashing out to taste the forbidden fruit. His warm breath caresses your skin and his hands roam lower—,”

  My stomach roiled. “Stop!” I practically yelled, interrupting any further perverse imaginings. “Make me stink.”

  “Thought you would see it my way.”

  “Magic. There are those who tremble before it, afraid of what they cannot control. Some wield it ruthlessly while others use it for good—doing what they can to help those around them, even if it goes unnoticed. Magic cannot be contained, it cannot be extinguished, and it cannot be explained. We can either accept it, learning from those who are gifted, or we can let it destroy us.”

  * * *

  ~ Torben

  I followed the crooked and bent old woman, who had introduced herself as Myra, farther into the store. My men stayed close, Brant cussing under his breath the whole way.

  “Relax,” I said as I glanced back at him.

  “Sure, Torben, I’ll relax,” the nervous giant responded. “Nothing to be concerned about here. There isn’t anything creepy about an ancient crone who looks as if she could turn us all into frogs, and who, by the way, knew your name even though she has never met you. Nothing terrifying about that at all.”

  I understood his reservations, but I did not feel any evil emanating from the woman
. She had some form of magic—that much was obvious—but that did not mean she posed a threat. Brant’s unease aside, Myra held information I needed to know.

  When we reached the back of the store, she walked through a parted curtain. I paused when I felt Brant’s hand on my shoulder, but before I could speak to him, Myra’s face appeared at the opening. She looked past me to my second in command.

  “I mean you no harm, big one, but it would be better if no one overheard us. It would not benefit you if any passing soldiers spotted you chatting with me,” she told him.

  After a brief hesitation, he patted my shoulder, a signal of surrender, and we all followed Myra into the room. Judging by the bed, small table and chairs, and a tiny counter used for preparing food, we had entered her living space. She motioned for Brant and me to take seats as she sat opposite us. There were only four chairs; the rest of my men would have to stand. I was a little worried we would crush the small chairs beneath us. They did not exactly seem designed to handle men of our stature.

  “They are sturdier than they look,” Myra said with a small smile, having noticed my observation.

  Brant and I sat, and the room seemed to shrink several sizes. Right away, I noticed a small shelf, which housed many well-worn magical items: a bowl, tiles that were probably scrying dice, a looking glass, and set of tattered tarot cards.

  “You are a witch.” I blurted out without thinking of how my men would react, and react they did. As they reached for their swords, the ringing of pulled steel reverberated in the small space. “Hold!” I growled. To my surprise, Myra did not so much as flinch. She simply watched us through keen grey eyes, a knowing smirk on her face.

  “Put your weapons away.” My words were stern as my lips tightened. The muscles in my body coiled tightly. I was ready to react quickly, but to what, I had no idea. Though I still did not feel any danger, the circumstances had changed. We were not dealing with a person who possessed magical powers; we were dealing with a person who knew how to wield that magic. The variation was not mere semantics. It was the difference between a torch and a bonfire. Both should be respected, but one was much more dangerous.