“For all the same reasons,” he replied easily enough. “His castle is situated well, albeit on the opposite coast, and his training area is sizable. And like you, he is one of my most trusted warriors. He, however, is already chieftain.”
“He is,” I granted, once more trying to seem unaffected, wishing I could share everything with Alexander, but it was impossible.
Some secrets must go to one’s grave.
“Yet she doesnae look at him like she looks at you,” he noted softly, no fool, to be sure. “And whilst love is by no means necessary in a marriage, Scotland will verra much need her as time passes, not only for how she can help me within our borders but with the Norse beyond, so ‘twould be wise of me to see her happy within her vows.”
“’Twould,” I agreed, hardly believing this line of conversation, still proceeding with great care even as I dared hope. Again, I said what made sense, sure to seem a tad troubled by it regardless, for my father's sake. “’Tis all logical thinking, my king.”
Fortunately, the conversation ended after that, when he was called away.
While I longed to pull Astrid aside and share what he had said, it was far too risky with Gustav hovering over her. Much to my well-disguised frustration, things remained that way for the remainder of the night, and we never got a chance to speak alone.
Stewart stayed by my side most of the time, having taken it upon himself to become her third protector rather than mingle with the locals. To that end, I couldn't help but notice he hadn't enjoyed female companionship since leaving our castle, where in the past he very much would have.
“Nay,” he had said when I asked him about it. “Not until I speak with Florie and am certain she doesnae wish more from me.”
I had clasped him on the shoulder and grinned, teasing him that he was a changed man and I couldn’t be more pleased, as certain as Astrid all would go well between them. He, in turn, offered no response, but I hadn't missed the hopeful glint in his eyes.
As always, when setting out for another village, everyone rose early the next day, and we headed east into a sunrise awash in pink, only this time things did not go quite as smoothly.
Instead, dauntingly enough, they went the very opposite.
Chapter Seventeen
-ASTRID-
The more Gustav was around me, the more disconcerting I found him, and it appeared Oksana felt the same because she never left my side when he was close. It almost seemed my horse, Wyvern, felt the same way, always edging away from him when he rode beside us. Although I continued trying to act as I had when I first met him for the king’s sake, it grew ever more challenging.
Although Declan and I rarely had time alone, having him nearby was comforting. I could hold my own against Gustav, yet still. The more time I spent around the MacGreggor chieftain, the clearer I sensed the darkness clinging to him. The pure hatred for my people.
We had been heading east for a few hours on our way to the next village when one of the king’s scouts returned and warned of trouble ahead.
“’Tis nae bloody good,” he told King Alexander. Wearing a heavy frown, he shook his head. “They massacred the lot of them.”
They spoke in hushed voices for a moment before Alexander warned everyone to keep their blades in hand and a keen eye on their surroundings. A light layer of snow had fallen the night before, soft enough that it drifted in heavy swirls in the cold, gusty wind when we continued making our way through the woodland.
As Declan and Gustav steered their mounts closer to me on either side, I kept my sword at the ready, sensing something truly alarming ahead when my talisman warmed. This time, the sensation felt sharp, undoubtedly warning me that something dire had taken place.
Unfortunately, as we soon found out, it was right.
“Bloodyhell,” Gustav cursed under his breath as we approached a small cluster of cottages lying on the far outer reaches of the next village, and the metallic tang of blood hit our nostrils on the cold wind.
My heart sank at the sight of slain, broken bodies strewn about, clearly the victims of an attack. They were not fighting men, either, but simple folk going about their business. A heavy silence descended while we swung down from our mounts and continued scanning our surroundings, lest whoever had done this think of attacking us.
“This istheirdoing,” Gustav sneered, taking in the carnage and shaking his head. “’Twas surely the Norse rebellions of whom our countrymen spoke.”
“You have no way of knowing that,” Declan said, remaining close to me, speaking words he never would have voiced before we came together. “It could just as easily be Scottish clans fighting amongst themselves.”
“Couldit?” Gustav ground out, gesturing at the Nordic symbols written in haste across one cottage door. “Nay, this is clearly the work of Norse who dinnae want this country belonging to anyone but them. Norse who are every bit as ruthless as their Viking ancestors.”
“What do the words on that door mean, Astrid?” Alexander asked me, taking in the carnage with unmistakable anger.
“I think ‘tis supposed to say ‘this is our rightful land.’” Trying to make sense of it, I shook my head. “Yet instead, it says ‘we hail from your rightful land.’”
“I dinnae ken.” Equally confused, the king frowned at me. “What does that mean?”
“I would say it means whoever wrote that did not have a good grasp on the Norse dialect or our symbols.” I noted othermessages written here and there, shaking my head. “Granted, symbols and dialects vary depending on different regions, but most of these make no sense.”
