“She isn’t unscathed.” I clean my bloody hands, scrubbing away all remnants of the piece of shit lying helplessly on the table.
“I saw things in my runes last night.” She keeps her voice low, leaving Bjorn’s open leg for a moment to come across the table.
“We all did.”
“Isn’t it time for you to remember who you are? Rasha is the most capable virgin in the last thousand years. Don’t falter now that you’ve let your cock take over.”
I bite back a laugh at the old woman who knows me through and through.
“Just keep him from dying so he can stand trial. I promise there will be rolling hills of flowers for you on the other side of the Vanheim when you meet your end, my old friend.” I kiss her cheek and leave her to patch up Bjorn.
The courtyard is congested with people waiting for me to face Harald. Someone must have woken him because he clearly looks disheveled. Wearing none of the finery we’re accustomed to seeing him in, Harald parts the crowd for me to walk directly to him.
“Shaw!” he yells, thinking if he is the loudest, then he will be believed.
I do the unthinkable and slightly bow to the Jarl to appease whatever cost I am to bear for today.
“Where the fuck is Bjorn, and why is everyone here questioning my men?” Harald seethes, invading my space, so I back up.
“Ingrid from your village and Katrine of the Beaivi Clan never returned to the longhouse last night. The women asked for help, and I found them chained up in Bjorn’s room. Is that the type of Yule you’re practicing here, Jarl Harald?”
The women have already spread the story around, leaving Rasha out of it. I have no need for games and have no intention of acting like these men.
Harald gets in my face again. “Where is Rasha?”
“Why would I know that?” I stare at Harald who is not processing what is happening.
Leif breaks into our stare down to say, “There are others, Jarl. Other women who have come forward. He needs to stand trial, or the gods will abandon us!”
“Where are they? Where are these women?” Harald asks, waving his arms around like a chicken.
“We are here,” Enora speaks this time, standing in front of Ingrid, who shows plenty of visible signs of a struggle. Five others come out from the crowd, and my blood vibrates against my bones at the severity of what I’ve allowed to happen while staying here. The guilt that I could have stopped this makes me sick.
“Can you point out the men?” Harald asks, his true weakness showing.
“We will have justice for the defilement of our women!” another Viking yells, drawing his sword.
Harald leans to me as if we are in an alliance and asks, “What am I to do?”
Crossing my arms over my thumping heart, I give him the only correct answer. “Morals are not hard to live by when you strip your ego and desire from what is right and wrong.”
“Trial! Trial!” the crowd chants, banging the walls and ground around us in a methodical chorus.
The higher ranking men from the other two clans close in on Harald, and I have half a mind to throw him to the wolves. Jorvik won’t speak against him, even though Katrine’s his responsibility. How he will look her father in the eye when he returns to the Beaivi Clan? I have no idea.
“You will compensate us for their virtue, and we will see those men punished before the Hunt. Our women will not participate unless we all agree on the eligible men.”
An angry mob faces Harald, ready to put him on trial with his own men, but where would that leave us with the King? The King poses the greatest threat to our way of life, so it might be best to leave Harald in place for now.
“Agree, Harald,” I instruct, giving him the nudge he needs. “What would the King think of this when he asked you to act with chaste humility, did he not? What about Rasha?” I ask, and Harald glances at me with panic lacing his narrow eyes.
“We will set this right by sundown,” he announces and pushes through the crowd to the staircase leading to Rasha’s room. My knuckles clench, missing the feeling of the iron bars that come in handy when I need to crush bone.
Walking out of the courtyard, I hear Enora thanking me, but I keep going. I have spent too much time laying low and going with the flow. Siggy is right. Fuck, Aslaug was right when she brought Rasha to the tomb. It is time to start the ritual I have put out of my mind for far too long.
After I collect my coat and stock the kiln for later, I follow the same path along the wall that Rasha and I took before and wedgemy sore shoulders through the broken slat. With all the clans here, I would think someone would have fixed this, but I thank fate that no one has noticed. Harald’s gate guard would be the first to accuse me of leaving and being guilty of beating Bjorn for my own purpose if I stroll out the main gate.
The overcast, lavender sky means snow is on the way. I pray it snows until the Wild Hunt, the women receive a respite from the feasts, and I have time to eavesdrop on the grumblings around the village.
