Inga returned moments later with two buckets, one filled with soapy water and a scrubbing brush, the other containing some straw and ash. Diligently Inga spread the straw and ash over the spill, pressing down with the brush to soak up the wine, and then began to sweep it up into the bucket.
Skadi called out to her again, ‘Inga, be careful with the glass! Throw both buckets in the rubbish pit after and be sure to wash your hands thoroughly…’ She could feel Agnar’s stony gaze on her and she added weakly, ‘Glass shards can be very dangerous and wine will stain your fingernails.’ She turned to another servant, trying to ignore the wild pounding of her heart. ‘Please fetch a new chalice for the King.’
She turned back to Agnar and swallowed when she saw the cold fury in his eyes.
He knew.
‘What was in it?’ he snapped, his voice far too loud for Skadi’s comfort. She was sure Inga had heard him. A couple of the tables at the front of the hall had also stopped what they were doing and had now turned to stare at her accusingly. She recognised one of the men as his second Vali, the red-haired warrior who Brenna hated—for good reason.
‘Nothing.’ She busied herself by picking up her chalice. She took a sip and realised it was empty. Not bothering to wait for a servant to refill it, she poured herself more wine from the jug and took a large gulp.
Will he kill me now?
It would be the perfect excuse to dispose of her…
How could she send word to Brenna to escape? Would it be obvious? She suspected her people would revolt at her death. But would Astra and Brenna even make it out alive?
Her hand began to tremble. Agnar grabbed her chalice and put it firmly back on the table with such a heavy thud that the wine spilled over the rim, staining the white-and-blue linen with a splash of scarlet.
A dark omen. Not unlike the horrible splashes of oppressive blood-red hanging all around her.
She stared down at the stain, guilt churning like a whirlpool in her stomach. She had tried to murder him. Slipping a drop of the poison into his wine, while he rooted around under the table for her knife. The fact he’d even agreed to do that still surprised her.
Even worse, she still wasn’t sure if she’d done the right thing by saving him. But she couldn’t deny the doubt and hesitation that had plagued her for those last few moments. When he’d raised his glass to his lips, she’d found herself finding any excuse to question him, to delay her crime.
Why had she done that? Guilt? Curiosity? Regret?
And, then he’d revealed that her uncle, the only person she thought might protect her, had workedwithAgnar. She couldn’t kill him until she knew why her uncle had given him aid. But had she put Astra and herself in danger by doing so?
She couldn’t understand her actions, and neither could Agnar by the sound of it…although, for different reasons.
‘Why did you strike it from my hands if there was nothing in it?’ he snarled, looking a lot like the fierce wolf’s head that roared across his banners. But there was something else behind his anger…a flash of hurt and betrayal. It was the same look she had seen all those years ago when she’d hurried Heimdall away from his bleeding body.
It was a stark reminder that he was a man and not a beast.
She forced herself to look at him, to truly see him. He was an unusual-looking man, strong rough features marred by many nicks and scars, serpent-green eyes that were deep set and brooding. No beard, but plenty of stubble instead, suggesting he did not care to shave or groom a beard like most men. Yet his hair was long, shiny and, when combed, as it was now…extraordinarily beautiful.
Why was she noticing this now?
Probably, because it will be the last thing you see!
‘I saw a fly,’ she mumbled, her chest so tight she was almost tempted to loosen the ties of her gown.
‘A fly?’ He glared back at her and she shrugged, reaching for the bread and tearing off another petal, desperate for a distraction.
‘We had a pestilence brought about by a swathe of flies last year… I did not want to see such a devastating illness return.’ It was the most feasible excuse she could think of for her behaviour and she hoped it would be enough.
It was not.
Agnar’s voice bellowed out to the rest of the hall. ‘Vali! If I die quickly and with no obvious reason…’ His jaw hardened and his next ominous words chilled Skadi to the bone ‘…youknowwhat to do.’
Vali nodded, stabbing his dagger forcefully into a chunk of meat and picking it up to take a large greasy bite. Skadi wasn’t sure what would happen if Agnar died suspiciously, but she was certain that she wouldn’t like it.
Skadi swallowed nervously, as the sound of Vali’s chewing seemed to fill the silence.
She couldn’t kill Agnar with poison. Not until she knew the truth about her uncle’s involvement. A strange relief washed through her and she realised she had not wanted to stain her soul with murder…even if it was justified.
Now that she knew her uncle had helped Agnar in his quest to take Heimdall’s throne she had to claim ignorance and learn more about her uncle’s feelings on the matter.
