Brenna nodded and slipped a tiny bottle from beneath her sleeve. The glass was murky and stoppered with a circle of cork. ‘Your new perfume? Yes, I have it. Although thatdamn Valifollows me everywhere I go!’ She glared at the doorway and Skadi presumed he stood guard outside by the way she raised her voice.
Brenna turned back to her and whispered, ‘Here it is. You may wish to put it in your purse, be very careful with it.’
Skadi took the bottle from her hands and placed it within the drawstring purse attached to her belt, carefully making sure the stopper was firmly in place. ‘Good.’
She glanced towards Astra, who was playing with some dolls quietly in the corner. She was putting them to bed and singing to them softly… She was so young. Despite her bravado against Agnar, she was still a babe who played with dolls and wooden swords.
I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, my darling.
Agnar had had the opportunity to kill Heimdall’s only heir and he’d not taken it.
Why?
The most likely conclusion was that he did not want his new wife to hate him. But that didn’t guarantee Astra’s safety forever. Many an ‘accident’ had killed a legitimate heir in the past, allowing room for a usurper or second child to take their place. Agnar had said Astra would be his heir unless Skadi gave him a son. But the likelihood of that at her age was small and most men wanted to continue their legacy, to leave something behind of themselves.
Surely she could not trust him to honour such an oath in the future?
Which left her with a difficult choice. Did she honour her marriage vow? Accept him as her husband and pray that she gave him a male heir to secure Astra’s safety? Or, should she break her oath for a second time?
Defeating him in combat had failed and now, with the greater number of his army against her, she couldn’t see a way to regain control…at least not openly.
King Sven had always described Agnar as a nuisance, a banished half-brother who bothered him much like a fly might bother a horse’s ears. In fact, she had heard very little about Agnar since he had returned to his mother’s people. She’d presumed it was because he was no longer deemed a threat.
Had she been lied to? Did the outside world really see her as a puppet queen?
The thought was disconcerting. She had always focused on the needs of Thrudheim first, but had that been a mistake? Should she have learnt more about the wider world from people other than Sven and Heimdall? If she had, she might have realised that Agnar was a threat.
She had barely heard anything about him until Oddmund had returned and informed her of Heimdall’s murder. She frowned, thinking again how strange it was that she had heard nothing of Agnar’s growing power until now…and yet he had an army and spoke of war as if it were inevitable between Sven and the Rus. Such a war would place Thrudheim in great danger, as it was a strategic alliance that benefited Sven greatly—his enemies would want to break it. She didn’t want to drag Thrudheim into a war that had nothing to do with them.
Should she ask her uncle for help in defeating Agnar?
King Olaf, was her mother’s brother. She’d not heard from him in many years as his kingdom was far north of Thrudheim. But he would at least be able to support her if Thrudheim found itself dragged into war with the Rus. His support might even allow them to remain impartial…if she were able to rid herself of Agnar first.
Perhaps, once she knew Agnar’s army better, their motives and loyalties, she would be better placed to decide about her new husband. His order to feast tonight to celebrate their marriage was enough to ensure a busy household, which suited her plans.
Brenna, Astra and Skadi were the only ones not granted permission to leave without escort. Most of her servants could come and go as they pleased—all in the name of preparation. Her messengers flew back and forth between the hall and the town like sparrows. Vegetables, meat, flour, wine, beer and all manner of demands were veiled with another purpose of gathering information and making plans. The latest was the herbalist and spice seller, Gudrun, who had given her the small vial of ‘perfume’.
Skadi gave Brenna a pointed look. ‘Did she understand…that I wanted thesameperfume that her husband Kar enjoyed?’ Gudrun was a widow and it was well known that he had died suddenly, and also that he had deserved it.
Brenna nodded. ‘She understood. It’s exactly what you wanted. She says it is potent. Even a drop will do and it will linger for five to six hours before doing its…work.’ Her expression became pinched and she whispered, ‘Are you sure about this? I’m afraid for you…’
Skadi squeezed her arm lightly and forced a reassuring smile, although there was nothing she could say to ease her worries.
The tiny bottle wasn’t a perfume, it was a weapon. One Skadi would never have imagined she would be willing to use. But with all other noble actions lost to her, she was determined to do all in her power to protect her daughter and her crown.
Even if it was through deceit and cowardice.
The tiny bottle felt as heavy as lead in her purse and her chest tightened at the prospect of using it to kill a man. But her daughter’s safety meant far more to her than any morals.
‘I am ready,’ Skadi said, rising from the stool where her kohl makeup had been applied to her eyes. She did not want to look beautiful, but fierce. So she had insisted on plenty of it around her blue eyes, knowing they would appear more cat-like and brighter because of it. She wanted to enthral Agnar enough that he did not look too closely at his cup, or what she was putting in it.
Her jewellery was equally captivating and added to her elaborate gown. It was her favourite, a sapphire, close-fitting apron dress with a matching cloak lined with northern fox fur and trimmed at the hem and sleeves with Byzantine embroidered silk. Even the embroidery thread on her dress sparkled in the firelight, as it was woven with thin strands of silver. Her slippers were also made with the same silk and the same silver embroidery.
She wore her decorative silver crown with a sapphire in its centre and tall spikes coming up from the base like icicles. The decorative knotwork around the band was so intricate it looked as if it had been embroidered.
Her entire outfit showed off the trading links, craftsmanship and wealth of her island. Her kingdom might be small, but it was powerful and not without friends. She picked up four blades and attached two to her belt, one as an eating blade and the other as a ceremonial dagger. Then she lifted her leg on to the stool and strapped the third to her thigh. As she was in the process of strapping on the other, the door burst open and Agnar stormed in.
‘What is taking you so long, my men are hungry!’ he snarled impatiently running a hand through the mess of his dark hair. He stopped dead when he saw her thigh and stared at it as if he’d never seen a woman’s naked leg before. The knot of his throat worked as he swallowed and slowly raised his eyes.
