Aric ventures into the woods, only to bring back a white flower. He offers it to Skarth.
Skarth accepts and, still reciting what sounds like an incantation, he places Loki’s eye into the hole before running his blade close to his scalp and shearing off some hair. He then slices his blade across his palm. He squeezes his hand into a tight fist, the blood pouring from the deep wound over Loki’s eye and his hair. He then places the flower in his palm, staining the white petals red, in a trance as his words grow more forceful.
The contrast between white and red sends a shiver down my spine because whatever Skarth has done, there is no turning back now.
He places the flower atop the eye and covers the hole with the dug-up dirt.
He has made an offering to the gods to ensure the safety of our sons, and I know what this is.
Himself…
Skarth, Aric, and I ride to Northumbria.
Ulf is nowhere to be found.
But this was never his battle, so I have no hard feelings.
Benedict rides to Mercia to inform King Beornwulf of what has happened. I do not know if that decision is wise, but I cannot worry about anything other than getting to Northumbria and ensuring my children's safety.
My mother’s death was perhaps a godsend, as she lost a part of herself when I destroyed her husband and her son. Her only daughter singlehandedly ruined her family, and for me to remain and rule, I always knew she resented me for my stubbornness.
She forgave me, but her loyalty to her husband was always a rift between us.
Her death saddens me, and I will mourn accordingly, but in some ways, I am relieved. She was a reminder of a past that I wished to forget.
This is heartless, but I have accepted that perchance I am.
We cannot ride to Northumbria with an army in waiting. I will not risk my sons and Catherine this way. Aethelbald has won.
I will give him anything he wants.
Even if that is me as his bride.
I have not told Skarth of my decision because he would not be willing to ride into this scenario. But all that matters is the safe return of our children.
This mindset was never learned from my parents. And that’s confirmation that I am nothing like them. I do what I want, and that is why I will relinquish my throne and become Aethelbald’s slave, for love is far more important than power.
As my castle comes into view over the hill, I look at Skarth, fearing this will be the last time I see him because I cannot predict what fate befalls us.
“Save yourself, for it is me he wants.”
Skarth’s jaw is taut as he weighs over my words. “Do not say such things because where you go, I go. Whatever awaits us, we do so together.”
“But I will happily do what Aethelbald wants, biding our time as you find our boys.”
“That is not our fate, my love. If they were to be discovered by the gods, we would have found them by now. This is the path the gods wish for us to take. I will not leave your side ever again. We ride into death together, if that is our destiny.
“For it is your face I wish to see when I enter the gates of Valhalla.”
I understand his thinking because Aethelbald will know of our plans if Skarth does not ride with me. We are a package deal, and for him not to come with me means he would be planning an attack, and our sons will suffer the consequences.
For the first time in our lives, both Skarth and I surrender all for the name of love. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.
The air grows thick the closer we ride to the castle walls because soldiers stand guard, not bothering to conceal themselves, because they know we are outnumbered. The men who cannot meet my eyes were once my faithful subjects.
Now they serve under a new ruler.
I do not hold a grudge, however.
