Chapter One
Thrudheim—late autumn, AD 879
Trust my absent husband to be more of a nuisance dead than alive!
Skadi strode purposefully along the defences in full armour. She was still Queen of Thrudheim—despite the loss of Heimdall—and she was prepared to defend her kingdom to the death. She needed her warriors to see her unbroken, to know they still had a leader.
After all, she was the true royal of this island, born from an unbroken line of Thrudheim Kings and Queens. While Heimdall… Well, he’d married her simply to wear a crown, not to rule.
The line of her familycould notend with her.
Skadi squinted into the horizon, the sun low in the sky, making it difficult to distinguish between where the grey sea ended and the gloomy sky began. No oncoming ships darkened her view. The wind whipped across her face, pulling back her white-blonde braids. She paid it no heed; her silver crown was securely held in place by several interwoven braids at her temple.
There was no way it would fall.
Unless it is ripped from my head…
Skadi took a deep breath, welcoming the sharpness of the cold wind to clear her mind. Storms were common in Thrudheim, the wind battering the deadly Northern seas against the island’s rocky shores. Her port offered the only safe haven between the land of the Saxons and the homeland of the Vikings.
Her kingdom wasn’t particularly large: a rocky island in the shape of a horseshoe that was mostly a sprawling mountain covered in thick swathes of forest, which levelled out to some fields around the small harbour of her town.
But it was what lay within the mountain that mattered. Rivers of precious metals ran deep within.
Despite its small size, her kingdom was considered a fine jewel, placed at a strategic point between all the kingdoms of the Danes, Norse and Saxons. They had always negotiated well with their neighbours in the past, but all that had changed with Heimdall’s death and suddenly covetous eyes had turned to Thrudheim’s rocky shores.
Skadi would welcome a storm.
Oddmund, her second in command, moved to stand beside her and, as if reading her mind, he said quietly, ‘The wind is picking up. But I doubt Thor will aid us tonight.’
She nodded, her gaze sweeping across the horizon like a hawk’s, missing nothing. ‘Then we shall have to be prepared. The Usurper must not breach our walls.’ Finally, satisfied that her enemy wasn’t sailing towards them at this very moment, she turned her attention to the battlements.
The huge wooden palisade encircled Thrudheim’s bustling town and golden hall which stood at the top of the hill at the far back of the town. The substantial wooden wall was the height of at least four men and the walkway could take two men abreast. There were archery slots at regular points throughout. It would be impossible to climb without ladders or ropes. The turrets along the port side were filled with warriors and weapons.
The sight of it reassured her. ‘Is everything ready?’ she asked.
Oddmund nodded. ‘Yes. Two hundred fresh arrows have been added to the turret stores. The wall and town roofs have all been doused in water to prevent fire. As you ordered, the ships have been pulled in from the harbour—they won’t be able to use them for firewood or battering rams. Cauldrons of tar and water have been filled ready for heating and we have gathered in the livestock. The harvest is already securely in the barns and will last us all winter if the Usurper wants a siege, which he won’t.Opportunistic bastard!’ Oddmund spat on the ground as if even the mention of the usurper caused his stomach to revolt.
‘Tell me again…’ asked Skadi quietly. ‘How did King Heimdall die?’
She couldn’t remember Oddmund’s words from two weeks ago, only the sound of Astra’s weeping as she buried her face in her mother’s skirts. Skadi had felt an odd mixture of relief and horror at the news of her husband’s death. Followed quickly by guilt when her daughter’s tears finally cut through the shock.
I should be more upset…But she wasn’t.
Her love and passion for Heimdall had faded long ago—not long after she realised how little she meant to him.
Oddmund looked away from her, his gaze narrowed and his jaw tight. ‘The raids were a success. King Sven spoke true of the Saxon King’s wealth and lack of defences. Some of their men wet themselves at the mere sight of us!’ He snorted in amusement, before continuing. ‘But theUsurperwas also there with his Rus men—no better than beasts, never following orders and causing havoc. And he still had his foolish claims on your kingdom, even daring to speak of them in front of King Heimdall and King Sven. Swearing openly that he would take back what was rightfully his…The arrogance!’
Skadi nodded—all of this sounded plausible.
TheUsurper, as he was known, was a man named Agnar Wolf Slayer, who had always coveted the crown Heimdall wore. Half-brother to King Sven, he had been betrothed to Skadi as a babe by their respective fathers, so he believed Heimdall to have stolen his birthright, despite the fact that he’d been no more than a child when Skadi’s father had died and had been too young to marry her. King Sven had also preferred that Skadi choose Heimdall over Agnar, so the betrothal had been dissolved in favour of his friend. A match agreed on both sides, herself included.
But Agnar and his mother had raged against the decision, had even come to Thrudheim to challenge it. Heimdall had been merciful enough to let them both live. Anyone else would have been grateful for his kindness, but not Agnar. He had travelled to the Rus in the east—his mother’s people—and steadily risen in power until he had an army of his own. He’d returned to go raiding with King Sven, but had betrayed him openly with the unlawful slaying of Heimdall.
‘Was it an open challenge?’ she asked again, a strange, old sympathy for Agnar returning when she thought of the boy she had cast aside. She did not regret abandoning their betrothal. If she’d continued down that path, she feared things could have been much worse.
Oddmund frowned, and she realised he must have told her this before. ‘No, my Queen. On the last raid, Agnar turned against him. No challenge was given, it was murder. I tried to get to the King, but he received the first cut before any of us had even unsheathed our swords. One of his men struck me from behind. When I awoke, King Heimdall was dead and Agnar was gone. It is only by the mercy of Rán that I arrived home before his army to warn you of it.’
Skadi nodded. ‘It is fortunate, indeed, and good that you returned so quickly. We have had time to prepare our defences, and perform Heimdall’s funeral rites. I am grateful you were so swift to return to us.’
