Ulf isn’t one for sentiments, however, and without warning, he tosses a hammer axe at a soldier, embedding it into the center of his forehead. The soldier wavers before collapsing to his knees with a thud.
Skarth rolls his eyes. “Always causing a scene.”
Laughter erupts from Ulf. “Let’s get this over with.”
That’s our cue to attack.
We charge at the soldiers, putting up a fight because if surrender is inevitable, then let us at least be captured with our heads held high. Picking up a sword from a fallen man, I engage in battle, the bloodshed animating me and making me hungry for more.
Anyone who isn’t on our side is the enemy, so I kill everyone who stands in our way. Blood coats my face, and the tortured screams of the dying are a salve to my nefarious soul. Ulf and Skarth never stray too far. But they know it’s in the violence where I thrive.
However, it’s not long before we are outnumbered and have no choice but to surrender.
“Surrender, or I will cut out your throat,” the leading soldier says, sword pressed to my skin.
It takes all my willpower not to retort, but I must yield.
Tossing my sword to the ground, I dare the bastard to do his best. And the best he does as he lowers his weapon, only to punch me in the face and knock me out cold.
I wake with a start, rising from my bed like a reanimated corpse. It is only when I attempt to move my arms do I see I’ve been restrained by my wrists and ankles.
Memories assault me because I have lost count of how many times I have been bound, but I quash them down as I have other pressing matters to deal with—like where in the buggery am I.
Aethelbald isn’t too far away. But am I in Wessex?
And where are Skarth and Ulf?
When the door opens, it appears my questions are soon to be answered.
In walks a man who is the spitting image of his father, the father I killed and would happily do so again. Déjà vu tackles me, but I rein it in as I do not wish for Aethelbald to see the effect he has over me.
I suppose some would find him handsome with his dark hair and blue eyes. He is tall and exudes an air of authority. But all I see is the repulsive bloodline that he carries within his name.
There is disgust when he looks at me, but there is also curiosity. I suspect that is because the woman he has heard so much about but barely remembers is the woman who ruined his life.
I would loathe myself too if I were him.
But I am not.
He takes his time examining me closely, walking around the bed, eyes never leaving me.
“I have waited what feels like a lifetime to meet you.” Aethelbald finally breaks the silence.
I don’t speak.
“Now that I have, I do not see what the fuss is about.”
“Where are my children?” I don’t care what abuses he uses. I just want to know where my offspring are.
Aethelbald grins, pleased he is in control. “Your children are weak…just like their mother.”
“Petty insults, I believed, were beneath you…I was wrong. Just like your father, it appears you underestimate me.”
If we’re going to behave like children, then I can give as good as I get.
Aethelbald’s calm demeanor is shattered as he storms over and slaps me across the cheek.
Licking the blood from the corner of my mouth, I smirk. “And just like your grandfather, too.”
