Skadi wasn’t quite sure what would happen next. She had heard him climb into bed,Heimdall’s bed… That was an unsettling thought.
Would she be taken by Agnar in the same bed she’d lost her virginity in?
She thought back to that first night with Heimdall when she’d been young and nervous. She’d tried to act as an adult, to laugh along with the bawdy jests at the wedding feast. But that night she’d realised how naïve and innocent she truly was.
It had been an awkward and humiliating experience. Heimdall had tried to be gentle and patient with her. But, lying beneath a man while he sweated and pawed at her, had quickly soured the adoration she’d felt for him.
Afterwards, she’d always thought of this bed as Heimdall’s, not her own. He’d taken it and the throne of Thrudheim with a few measly drops of blood.
Of course, things had improved with time. But her youthful adoration had died that night, replaced by a far more practical acceptance.
Heimdall wasn’t a terrible lover. Eventually, she grew comfortable enough to enjoy their couplings. But her sweet infatuation with him had never returned and he did not behave towards her as he once had. He no longer gave her compliments or whispered sweet words and she suspected he had never loved her despite his previous flattery.
The crown was all he had wanted and she had been a fool to think otherwise. She had not blamed Heimdall for it. After all, she had chosen him not only because of her attraction, but because he had been the best choice for Thrudheim.
Despite Agnar’s accusation, love and lust had never been her only guide.
Marriage with Heimdall had been simple. He’d snored terribly and it had been the perfect excuse to sleep elsewhere. Whenever he wanted her, he would sayhe wished to speak with her in his chamber.Afterwards, she would go back to the comfort and privacy of her own chamber. It had suited both of them.
Her duty and task had always been very clear and uncomplicated. It was true that he’d asked for her less and less over the years. She presumed he was growing bored of her, especially as she hadn’t given him a son and was getting older.
But Agnar was a younger man—would he require her every night?
Hopefully not!
She stared down at her linen night shift. This one reached to the floor and billowed around her neck and arms, revealing very little of her shape.
How had it come to this?
Last night she had fought him with sword and shield. Now, she was like an obedient wife submitting to her duties.
Should she not rebel? Fight and deny him?
I am Queen of Thrudheim,she reminded herself firmly. The statement had always given her courage before. But her confidence was crumbling, she felt attacked on all sides.
King Sven, who she’d always suspected of manipulating Heimdall for his own benefit, might have ordered her husband’s death. If she believed Agnar, which she still wasn’t entirely sure she should.
The hardest news to digest had been King Olaf’s support of Agnar. He was the last of her family and he had chosen Agnar over her own wishes. There had not been a messenger from her uncle in twenty-five years, but now he sent her an army and a husband? Unless Agnar spoke the truth and her uncle had tried to contact her, but had been denied…
Either way, without King Sven or King Olaf supporting her, Thrudheim was vulnerable to invasion and her daughter’s life and crown were also at risk.
Should she lie down next to Agnar and submit to him, then?
Accept him for Thrudheim’s benefit, as she had with Heimdall?
Or…Should she straddle him and take him instead? As she’d liked doing occasionally with Heimdall when she was in the mood? Part of her liked the power play of such a move. To no longer be the submissive victim in other men’s plans, but a force of nature instead.
Perhaps it would intimidate Agnar?
She quickly shook her head.
Nothing would intimidate Agnar and that behaviour would only suggest to him that shewantedto be intimate…as if she secretlywantedthis marriage… Which she did not!
Wouldn’t it be better to show her disapproval of the match? To fight him, scream and claw at his already scarred face? But that seemed reckless and senseless, and could even put Astra at risk. Despite his saying he didn’t want an heir, he might still hope for one. Of course, a few potions from Gudrun would easily ensure against that possibility…
Another thought suddenly occurred to her and a chilling humiliation ran down her spine.
What if he doesn’t want me?
