“I hate the unknown, and there is much clandestine to everything. Our boys?—”
I can’t finish the sentence without breaking into tears.
Skarth sits up and tenderly wraps his arm around my shoulders. “The harsh truth of it is that they are more valuable alive than they are…unalive.”
The thought is like a dagger through the heart.
“Never forget the Dane blood which runs through their veins. And with Loki’s abilities, he knows we come. He will ensure their safety. The gods are on his side.”
I lower my chin, ashamed of the approaching tears.
But Skarth lifts it with a finger, coaxing me to look at him. “And never forget who their mother is. You raised fighters, Emeline. They are going to be all right.”
Nodding, I pull it together because there is no time for tears. “How do we find them? I fear my kingdom is no longer loyal. They no longer listen to me. I am just a stranger in this land as you are.”
Skarth runs his thumb along my bottom lip, those eyes alight, filling me with warmth and desire. “The only way we will find them is to?—”
“Surrender,” says a voice emerging from the trees.
Ulf has granted us privacy, which I am most surprised about. There’s no point in being coy about my reunion with Skarth, but Ulf’s inquisitive eyes notice that our reunion wasn’t an entirely happy one.
Skarth removes his finger, and I instantly miss his touch. He comes to a stand and faces off with Ulf. The animosity between the two is still strong, but as always, it’s better the devil you know.
“He is right.”
“I’m sorry, I did not hear you,” Ulf says, cupping his ear.
Skarth ignores his quip, not in the mood for Ulf’s sarcasm. “What allies do we have?”
It pains me that they can be counted on one hand. “Catherine and a Dane named Aric.”
Skarth raises a brow but doesn’t ask any questions.
“Alruna, a Dane who said you helped save her from the brutality of the Christians.”
“I do not remember names nor faces, as there are many.” Skarth goes quiet, as if an idea has come to mind. “There are many who are still imprisoned. What if…what if instead of surrendering, we allow the Christians to think they captured us?
“They take us to Aethelbald.”
“And then?” Ulf asks, arms folded.
“Then we remind our people of the words Odin swore to live by.” It feels as if the morning sky is suddenly alive as Skarth exclaims, “Victory or Valhalla!”
Ulf thumps a fist over his heart. “Victory or Valhalla!”
“The men and women who Aethelbald captures are our army because fighting for us is the better option than being a slave to the Saxons.”
“You speak from experience?” I ask, and Skarth nods.
“You must choose your battles wisely, and I fear that Aethelbald will be as cruel to you as his father and grandfather once were.”
Memories of what Aethelwulf and Egbert did to me never fade. But it feels as though those memories are reborn because Skarth is right. Aethelbald will do everything in his power to inflict immeasurable pain upon me.
But nothing is comparable to losing my sons. So I am ready.
“He will likely force you to give up your kingdom and torture us, amongst other things, in return for our children. It will not be easy, and I suspect it will last for many moons.”
“I am prepared to sacrifice it all,” I say without doubt. “Ulf, I understand?—”
