“Oh, hugrekki, you are truly diabolical.” I seize her by the waist and pull her toward me so I can plant a kiss on those delicious lips. “We feign to come to an agreement whilst our men infiltrate in secret.”
“He will believe I want to make peace if you and I meet with him. We abandon our weapons and go in unarmed. We simulate an agreement because he knows our army cannot match his. But he will not come to any agreement unless it involves both of our deaths.
“He will play along, however, and we must let him believe he has the upper hand. Once we are inside, we stall until our army is in place. Then we attack.”
“How do we sneak in over two hundred men?” Ulf asks, making a good point. But that’s because he doesn’t know the layout.
“The dungeons are dark, haunted, and the soldiers are superstitious. They do not venture down there unless they must. And guarding the dungeons will be the last thing on Aethelbald’s mind. He won’t waste manpower on prisoners who are already dead.
“So we enter via the sewers. We follow until we come to a secret passage that leads us into the dungeons. No one knows of this passage because I concealed it, knowing one day it would come in handy.”
“I call dibs to enter unarmed with you and Skarth,” Ulf says, folding his arms across his chest. “I’d rather face death head-on than wallow in shite.”
“You’ve wallowed in far worse,” Emeline counters, and I can’t help but grin.
However, when she turns to me, I realize I’m not off the hook. “That also applies to you.”
She turns on her heel, leaving us alone.
“What did you do?” Ulf asks with curiosity.
“I had sex with Inga and Bodil,” I reply without emotion. I’ll own whatever judgment anyone wishes to bestow on me.
“At the same time?” Ulf asks, mouth agape.
I nod.
For once, Ulf doesn’t have a smart reply. I assume that’s because he knows the act was against my consent and done to hurt Emeline.
“We will prevail, minn vinr. There is no room for defeat.”
And he’s right.
This is the final war, a war that will change the world as we know it.
We cannot lose.
Seventeen
Queen Emeline
My body aches.
As does my heart.
And this is what fuels the fire in me to persevere and never give up.
It’s also the distraction I need to keep my mind off everything that's happened thus far. As I attack an Irish soldier, I envision swinging at Inga’s head.
Now that things have settled somewhat and my sons are safe, I can’t help but obsess over Skarth having sex with two women. I know it was against his will, but I’m still furious.
I am furious at Bodil and Inga.
I am livid at Aethelbald.
But most of all, I cannot look at Skarth without wishing to slap his cheeks.
This is irrational jealousy. He didn’t seek out their touch. It was forced upon him to punish us both, and I imagine this weighs heavily on him, too. But regardless of all this, I’m still mad at him.
