“Your choice is made then?” Aethelbald asks, eyes narrowed.
Coming to a stand, I nod.
“Let it be known then that my generous offer has been denied. Sigrith.”
My sister enters and gestures that the boys are to accompany her. But I lunge for them, drop to my knees, and scoop them up into my arms. I hug them tight, committing this moment to memory because I do not know when another will arise.
“I love you, sons. So very much. I will find you. I promise. Until then, know that you never leave our thoughts. We will be a family once again,” I say to them in Norse.
Sune stands solid, unmoved, but Loki holds on tight. “As the sun rises, death will free us all,” he whispers into my ear.
“Loki? What does that mean?”
Sigrith rips them from my arms, refusing to allow Loki to answer.
A rage so fierce overcomes me. I stand slowly, daring Sigrith to strike me.
She doesn’t.
“Just as I thought, nothing but a coward behind that sword,” I spat in Norse.
She straightens her spine as it seems I’ve struck a nerve.
This is the moment she remembers that the same blood runs through our veins, and she stops this betrayal.
But she does nothing of the sort.
She takes my boys and leaves.
Aethelbald sighs, clearly annoyed I didn’t take the bait. “You are a silly, silly man not to accept my gratitude. It will not come again.”
“Your terms never come without strings attached. You are nothing but a juvenile. I have dealt with kings far braver than you. Your reign is laughable, and sooner or later, all of England will see what you are.”
“And what is that?” he asks, nostrils flared.
“A man child.”
Aethelbald tongues his cheek, lost for words. “Guards!”
Three soldiers burst into the room, and when he gestures with his head that they’re to apprehend me, they surround me. I don’t fight. I allow them to lead me from the room, but as we pass Aethelbald, I can’t help myself and swiftly headbutt him.
The guards jump on me, yanking me out of the room, but I leave happily, with nothing but a smile on my face.
Fourteen
Queen Emeline
Ladies-in-waiting help me dress in royal silks, which can only mean one thing. I’m to attend a royal affair where my people will be in attendance.
Whatever the event, it can’t be good.
They place the crown into my hair, ensuring not a wisp is out of place.
I am unsure how long this facade will continue, seeing as I held my end of the bargain. I knew Aethelbald couldn’t be trusted. But I thought he would be happy to see the back of me. Something prevents him from disposing of me.
Whatever that is, it’s the only leverage I have.
I’m escorted from my chamber, never alone, of course. Guards bow in servitude, which is ironic because I don’t want to be queen.
