She helped lead us to victory, but it was for her own gain. No doubt this village is hers. She is now the queen of her people, which leaves the question, just who is her king?
Memories of her limbs twisted with Skarth’s as they were in the throes of passion assault me, and it takes all my willpower not to throw my blade at her head.
I recall the last time we were in battle and why all of this is possible.
“That is why Inga helped us? Because you promised to lead them again?”
“We are lost after so much bloodshed. Just like you, we need to start again.”
“You will leave England? I command you not to leave. I command that you do not leave…me.”
“I will always be with you. And when I am not, peer into the skies, and the North Star will remind you of that. North of the stars is always the brightest, just how your light shines within me.”
“Skarth, n-no. I cannot do this without you.”
“Yes, you can. You believe I was the one who saved you, but you are mistaken. You saved me—time and time again. You will be in my heart—always—and when I am melancholy, I will have you in there to remind me to keep going because not once have you ever, ever given up, and neither will I.”
My heart aches for the man I miss with every breath I take. But I cannot show weakness, especially since I know these are Inga’s people.
She examines me closely as many moons have passed since we last saw one another. She is still as striking and just as fierce as when I first laid eyes on her. Her blond hair is plaited and twisted into an intricate style. And she wears leathers and chain metal, forever ready for battle.
There is no mistaking her for anything other than royalty.
“May we speak?” I ask her as I dismount my horse.
She folds her arms across her chest. “Why do you think anything you say will be of interest to me? All you Saxons are the same, regardless of whether you were once a Viking whore.”
I inhale deeply, composing myself because I know she is baiting me. I remember who I am and why I’m here. She can insult me all she wants if it means getting my sons back.
My men advance, but I raise my hand, stopping them. “Your tongue is still sharp, I see. I need something from you, Inga, and I will not leave until I get it.”
The tension begins to grow because, although outnumbered, I refuse to back down, and Inga knows it. She remembers how shrewd I am in war, so I know she wonders whether this is an ambush. I also believe her curiosity will get the better of her in the end.
“All right then, you may speak, but on one condition.”
I nod, gesturing that I am all ears.
“You fight me.”
“My Queen, I must insist?—”
But I ignore Lord Louis because this is the only language Inga speaks.
“All right, I shall. But when I win, you must honor your promise.”
Our audience mumbles under their breaths, amazed by my courage, it seems, for Inga is a fantastic warrior.
Inga smirks, but there is no warmth to it. “You have my word.”
“My Queen! No!”
But this is happening, and it’s happening now.
I style my long hair into a tight twist and tie it high on my head, out of my eyes, as I cannot have anything impairing my vision. Halfdan offers me a sword with a look of sympathy as he believes he has led me to my death.
“Do not worry, sweetling. I was taught by the best,” I assure him, caressing his cheek.
I meet Inga’s eyes and see nothing but hatred.
