The little display Aethelbald orchestrated was for Emeline. To show her what a disgusting brute I am, and he’s right. I wish to cut off my own cock and would if my hands were free.
It’s a perfect example of how we men are nothing but animals, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from responding to what Inga and Bodil did. It’s not because I wanted them. It’s a response that happens when our dicks are the star of the show.
I clench down on my jaw, disgusted with myself.
I have no idea what will happen next.
The fact that Aethelbald sits beside Emeline is a sure sign that he is to be crowned. But then what?
No doubt, deals have been made.
Lives sacrificed.
But Emeline is up to something.
There is no way she would agree to any of this if our son’s lives were not saved.
But then what?
The wise thing would be for us to walk away, but our pride will not let us.
I look down the long row of prisoners I’m shackled to. All loyal to Emeline. We’re on display to be made an example of. The heretics who will be punished for not following the rule of Aethelbald.
Catherine meets my eyes.
I nod subtly.
It will be okay.
We just have to get through this spectacle.
Sigrith stands on guard. It appears she is Aethelbald’s most trusted soldier.
Her betrayal is unforgivable.
Emeline stands, and her court instantly quietens. “Friends, I thank thee for attending on such short notice, but the news could not wait. I have made it no secret that England has been my first love, and all I have done is to better this land we love.”
Men in the crowd snicker under their breaths because Emeline has indeed done this, much to the disgust of the chauvinists who refused to see what England could become because a woman was queen.
Now, they’re about to get their wish.
“But I now see that I…” She pauses, composing herself, as I know what she is about to say goes against everything she fought so hard for. “I see that perhaps I was foolish in believing that I am able to rule without a king.”
Aethelbald nods in agreement.
All I can envision is ripping that head from his shoulders.
“Lord Aethelbald is of royal blood. Son of Lord Aethelwulf. Grandson to King Egbert of Wessex, Lord Aethelbald is the rightful heir to the throne. I should know, of course, as I raised him like my own. In case memory escapes you, I was wife to Lord Aethelwulf before he met an…unfortunate demise.”
The room falls quiet because Emeline is airing her dirty laundry at court.
She may be forced to surrender her kingdom, but she won’t go down quietly.
And this is why I love her.
“Lord Aethelbald will no doubt follow in his grandfather’s footsteps.”
This isn’t a compliment.
