“No, of course not, my Queen!” he gasps, horrified because such talk is heresy. “But Northumbria would be stronger if ruled by a king…and queen.” His slip of the tongue has not gone unnoticed, for if he had it his way, only a king would sit on this throne.
“If I choose a foreign prince, he will draw England into foreign politics for his own advantage. But if I marry a fellow countryman, I would be drawn into factional infighting. How does this make our kingdom stronger?
“Are you questioning my ability to reign?”
“My Queen, your words wound me. I was merely suggesting?—”
But he has spoken enough.
“I merely suggest you keep your philosophies to yourself then, Lord…before my words do more than wound you when I cut out your tongue. Dare speak to me on this matter again, and I will be sending Prince Ludwig my own gift…and that will be your head.
“Understood?”
He nods quickly, thankful he still has a head to nod with.
“Tis most splendid then! Let’s never speak of this matter again.” I stand, bored by this conversation. “Let us go.”
My ladies-in-waiting follow me as I leave my court, who are open-mouthed and frustrated with my stubbornness, but no man will ever tame me.
However, I tell a lie as there is one man who ever could, but I’ve not seen that man for many moons.
I do not know where he is.
I do not know if he is alive.
And this is the sacrifice I must make for my kingdom because a Saxon queen cannot love a Northman.
But I do.
I always have.
I’ve loved him since I was twelve years old.
A love fated in the stars…stars which I wish to set alight. For what good is love if you cannot embrace it with both hands?
“Mother!”
That word grounds me. It reminds me that yes, I am queen. But first and foremost, I’m a mother, which to me, is the reason I do what I must to ensure the safety of my children—half Saxon, half Viking.
“I like your dress, Mother,” says Sune, the darling boy whose eyes are so like his mother’s—the mother who I killed.
“Oh, thank you,” Cecily sobs, her chest heaving. “You are honorable, Emeline. You are a good woman who?—”
But I don’t give her a chance to finish because I am neither of those things when I draw the blade across Cecily’s throat. Blood squirts from the wound, showering me in her blood. But I do not move. I allow myself to be immersed in her life force, for I was the one who took it.
Her eyes widen, stunned that I would kill her when I said she would be spared. “M-my baby.”
“Shh,” I whisper, cupping her cheek before stabbing the knife into her abdomen and cutting downward. “I intend to show mercy to your baby. You, however?—”
My hand is soon saturated with Cecily’s warm blood as I slice through her flesh.
“You made your choice, and now, I have made mine. And you chose wrongly.”
Cecily’s chin droops forward, and she watches her final moments on this earth as I cut through her stomach. I intend to keep my word and save her child. I just never stipulated the terms.
The moment the final breath leaves her, I reach into her split cavity and pull out her child. She was right—it is a boy. A boy who will hate me when he discovers how he was brought into this world.
I clean the fluid from his mouth and whack him lightly on the back before a robust cry cuts through the still air. I sever the umbilical cord and smile. He will grow to be strong, like his father.
