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“I yield, I yield!” her opponent said. He threw his sword down and flung his hands in the air just as Sigrid was in the middle of a strike. Anger blazed in her eyes, but she still had enough wherewithal to stop herself from following through. The wooden sword stopped just short of crashing against her opponent’s hand and would have likely broken it if the swing had continued. Sigrid looked down at him and shook her head. There was yet nobody she had met who could match her tenacity.

“Why are you so angry, Sigrid?” The opponent had picked up his sword and was backing away, making sure that he was out of her reach. None of them knew why she fought so fiercely because she chose to keep herself distant from them. But with every swing of the sword, she saw her dead parents and was reminded of the fact that she hadn’t been strong enough to save them. If she wasn’t at her best, then she might die as well. Every fight she entered was another chance to make her parents proud. She didn’t ever want to let them down again.

She stormed off the battlefield and sat to take a break, rubbing her hands and cracking her knuckles. Two more soldiers took to the battlefield, and she watched, for observing other fighters could help her as much as training by herself. But in the midst of the battle, a boy came up. His name was Poul, and he often buzzed around them like a fly. He wasn’t old enough to fight yet, and he seemed intrigued by the fact that Sigrid was a girl who fought with the other Vikings. She tried not to pay too much attention to him because he was a simple child, and he likely had no idea how annoying he was.

“Did you see the prisoners who arrived yesterday? There was that one man who was taller than all the others!” Poul began. Sigrid kept her attention on the fight, not wanting to think about that prisoner. Of course, she had seen him. In fact, she had been quite struck by his appearance. He wasn’t like the other broken men that were usually brought here by the earl; he seemed to have some fight in him, but other than that, she didn’t know anything else about him.

When she didn’t respond, Poul continued speaking. “I heard the others speaking, and they said maybe you might marry him if you won’t marry anyone else. Do you think you’ll marry the prisoner? They said that it makes sense because you were brought here in a cage as well.”

The moment he said this, Sigrid lost her mind. Her eyes widened, and she roared at Poul. She swiped a hand out toward him, not close enough to hit him, but close enough to send him reeling to ensure he wasn’t hit by her. He lost his balance and fell on his rump, his face a picture of pain. People turned and laughed at him, but in Sigrid’s mind, they were laughing at her because no matter how long she stayed in this place, she was always going to be an outcast, an orphan, a mongrel.

Fury filled her heart, and she was on the warpath as she stormed away from the training camp. She was stopped in her tracks by Kari, who was her eldest sister. She was demure and soft-spoken and had taken Sigrid under her wing when Sigrid had first arrived in this clan. She was perhaps the only one who Sigrid considered a friend.

“Where are you off to in a rush?” Kari asked.

“Nowhere,” Sigrid muttered.

“You could have fooled me. Sigrid, you can’t always be rushing around like this. Take your time. What has angered you now?”

“Nothing. Just the boys. They can’t cope with the fact that I am a better fighter than them, yet I am never given a chance to prove it!”

“We all know your prowess with a sword, even Father, but things are not as simple as that. You are not just any soldier. You are the daughter of the earl.”

Sigrid wanted to turn around and yell that she wasn’t the real daughter of Ivar, but she knew that wouldn’t do any good. Instead, she stayed silent and slowed her pace.

“We missed you today. We could have used your help with the chores,” Kari said. It was amazing how she could speak so softly and yet still lace her words with such disappointment.

“I needed to train.”

“Yes,” Kari said with pursed lips. “But how long are you going to train for, Sigrid? Where do you think this is going to end up? Do you honestly think Father is going to approve of you going off to goodness knows where to fight? Your place is here, with us.”

“What, to make a home for a warrior? I am the warrior!” Sigrid thundered.

“You are Father’s daughter, and there are certain expectations of you, but you know this already. I didn’t come here to lecture you, Sigrid,” Kari said. It didn’t seem that way to Sigrid, though, who crossed her arms and sighed, looking up at the heavens.

“Then why did you come and see me?”

Kari sidled up close to her and lowered her voice. “Because I heard that you saw the prisoners with Father last night, and that one of these prisoners is…well…different from most. Is it true?”

Sigrid turned her gaze away from her sister. She tried not to think about the man with his striking eyes and imposing form. Even though he was a prisoner, he still seemed to stand out from the Vikings that she knew. Trust her sister to think about the impression of a man, though. All she ever seemed to think about was men, not that their father would ever allow them to affiliate with a prisoner.

“If there was anything special about him, I did not notice. I was only there to give the earl a message. I didn’t pay attention to who was in the cage.”

“A shame. I heard that he’s a welcome sight to our eyes,” Kari murmured, a slight smile upon her lips.

Sigrid huffed. “I don’t know why you concern yourself with such matters. It’s not as though our father would ever let you meet a prisoner, no matter how handsome you find him.”

“Of course not,” Kari said with a light laugh, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the scenery.” She put her arm around Sigrid’s shoulders and laughed, as though she knew of a joke that Sigrid did not understand at all.

Later that evening, Sigrid returned to the prison. The moon was high in the sky, casting a silvery glow upon the world. The Vikings had feasted, and many of them were now sleeping. During dinner, her sisters had been speaking about the prisoner. Apparently, a few of them had gone to see him. None of them had dared to speak to him, of course, for her sisters were not the kind to be brave in the face of danger, but they had all been taken by his good looks and his insistence that he was going to escape. He had cried out to many people in a determined manner, swearing that he would escape and that the gods would punish them all for their behavior. He was just another fool for believing in the gods, Sigrid thought, but the fact that each of her sisters was intrigued by him made her wonder if there was something she was missing. If she was the type of girl who was interested in romance, then she supposed that this prisoner was the type of man she would find attractive. He was tall and strong, with broad shoulders and deep eyes. His hair was thick, and he looked every inch a warrior, but Sigrid knew he couldn’t be that impressive because he had gotten himself captured in the first place.

During dinner, while her sisters had been chattering about him and speculating about who he might have been, Sigrid had asked them why they hadn’t spoken to him. Her sisters giggled and wailed in fright at the prospect of talking to a prisoner, but Sigrid thought there was no point in talking about these matters if they weren’t willing to find out for themselves. When she was challenged to go and talk to him herself, she refused, saying that she didn’t care enough, but then her sisters began calling her a coward as well, and Sigrid was not going to stand for that.

So now she found herself standing in front of the cage, gazing at the sleeping prisoners. She paced around the cave and looked at the man who was the subject of so much intrigue. At the moment, he was on the floor, curled up into a ball. He didn’t look too impressive. She leaned down and reached through the bars, poking him. She recoiled when his eyes flashed open.

“Get away from me!” he gasped.

Sigrid furrowed her brow, annoyed that he had taken her by surprise.