Aethelbald inhales slowly, composing himself. “You cannot hurt me more than you already have. You destroyed my family. You stole my kingdom. My mother told me of the sins you committed. How you lured my father because you are nothing but a malevolent temptress.”
I cannot help but laugh. “I regret I showed you mercy when a babe. Your father was a monster. As was your grandfather. The same fate does not need to be bestowed on you, too.”
“Spare me the sermons,” he counters, eyes filled with loathing. “You made me.”
“The choices you made are yours alone. Do not blame me for the hatred in your heart.”
“If you were me, would your heart not be filled with hate, too?”
He poses a good question because he has every right to be bitter. I suppose in some ways I did shape him this way.
But I still do not feel guilty.
“The only guilt I carry is that I didn’t destroy your entire bloodline, you included. Because if I had, my children would be safe.”
Aethelbald tongues his cheek, barely holding back his rage. “Have your fun now because much awaits.”
He claps, and two ladies-in-waiting enter. They hold a wash bowl and a dress in their hand. Before I can object, he places a chemical-soaked cloth over my mouth. Once again, the darkness embraces me.
I wake because the lace high up my throat itches.
I attempt to scratch it, but once again, I see my wrists are bound to the arms of the throne I sit in.
“You wake, sweetling.”
Vomit rises because that voice, coupled with that pet name, reminds me too much of the past.
“I hope you burn in hell,” I reply, turning to look at Aethelbald, who sits on a throne next to me.
“I live it with every breath you take,” he counters softly, not wishing for his men to hear.
We sit in a room filled with soldiers. A meeting is about to take place. The fact that I am on a throne, in regal clothing, though, worries me. Regardless of the rope around my wrists, I am no longer a prisoner.
But what looms I know is far worse than being held captive.
The drugs Aethelbald gave me make me lethargic. A docile queen is what England wanted, so it seems Aethelbald is about to give them their wish.
“Men.” The room instantly quietens, awaiting further speech. “Today is a new day. England has suffered. She bleeds the blood of good men who fight for their country to be restored!”
The men cheer, arms raised in camaraderie. I simply roll my eyes, not touched.
“The England my family fought for is no more.”
“Thanks to the Viking whore,” slurs a man to the right.
I yawn as I’ve heard it all before.
“Bite your tongue, Peter,” Aethelbald warns, surprising me.
Why is he showing loyalty to me?
“Queen Emeline lost her way, but she is still the rightful heir of Northumbria. Just as I am of Wessex. There should be no division between the two kingdoms. Only unity…just as my grandfather and father wanted.”
My stomach drops because there is no way…
But when Aethelbald places his hand over mine, it’s as if his father and grandfather have spoken from the grave.
“Which is why we unite both kingdoms once again. Queen Emeline has accepted my marriage proposal. She will reign over Wessex as its queen. However, as God himself wanted, I am to be king over both kingdoms.
