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During the following day, Sigrid had purposefully avoided visiting the prison, as she didn’t need to be distracted by the strange man and his stranger ways. She busied herself with various tasks and trained some more with her sword, although she mostly practiced alone because nobody wanted to trade with her. When it came time for dinner, she returned home to the vast dinner table that was always blessed with thick broth and juicy chunks of meat. The table was long to accommodate Ivar’s ever-growing family. Kari and Astrid were there, of course, as were all of Sigrid’s other brothers and sisters. Some of them were Ivar’s blood, although there were differences between them since they were born from different mothers. Others were like Sigrid, adopted after being taken from their homes. Ivar looked upon them all with pride and liked to boast that he was breeding an entire boatful of Vikings to ensure that his legacy persisted long into the future.

Sigrid had worn a scowl as she flung herself into her chair, ignoring the looks that the others were giving her. Word had spread of her actions the previous night, and there were plenty of hushed whispers murmuring around her. She heard one of them and glared at her brother, Gorm. He was tall for his age and was one of Ivar’s blooded sons. He had the same build and hair as his father, and there were moments where he showed the same cruelty as well.

“Do you dare say that to my face?” Sigrid snarled as she rose from her seat. She planted her hands on the table, making it tremble, and her face turned crimson. Gorm looked at her slyly and laughed.

“Why wouldn’t I? All you’re going to do is hit me with that wooden sword of yours. I might get a red rump, but that’s about it,” he said, and a few of her siblings tittered with laughter. Sigrid hated being mocked like this. If she had been able, she would have flung the table over in a rage, but as it was, she gripped its sides and glowered.

“I don’t need a sword to kill you. I’ll rip your throat out with my bare hands,” she said. Her harsh tone gave everyone pause, and they each looked at her, a hush suddenly falling across the room. Gorm licked his lips and turned to face her directly. Behind Sigrid, a hearth was alight, and the warmth tickled her back.

“You’re always so quick to use that mouth, Sigrid. I’ve a good mind to cut your tongue out. At least then you won’t be able to cause us so much attention.”

There was more laughter, and Sigrid was in a mind to slaughter them all. Her lips parted again to let fly a torrent of rage, but before she could do so, Ivar entered, and all the children fell silent. His bulky frame strode through the room, and his gaze fell upon his children one by one. Sigrid immediately fell to her seat and bowed her head, not wanting to catch his eye. When she glanced up, she saw Gorm smiling slyly, and it angered her. If she could have, she would have leaped across the table and clawed his eyes out like a cat, but Ivar would only have scolded her. The best she could hope for was getting through the meal and then going elsewhere to spend time with herself.

As it turned out, that was too much to hope for.

Ivar went to the massive pot and picked up bowls. One by one, he filled the bowls with the thick broth and handed them to his children. They passed them down the line. Sigrid breathed in the smell of carrots and onions. Her stomach rumbled. At least she would soon have a full belly. There were some small mercies in life, and dinner was certainly one of them. She watched all the bowls being passed around and licked her lips in anticipation of hers arriving, but when it did, she found that it was empty. She looked up at Ivar, who had placed the empty bowl in front of her himself as if to make a point.

“Where is my food?” she asked in a demanding tone.

Ivar glared at her. “Tonight, you do not eat. You need to learn a lesson in respect.” He pointed a thick, gnarled finger at her. Sigrid flared her nostrils, but she did not bite back with a sniping comment, for once understanding that it would only make her situation worse. If she couldn’t eat, then she would at least be able to leave the dinner table and get away from Gorm and his mirthless smile. She rose, but then Ivar looked at her in a way that made her stop moving entirely.

“Sit down,” he said, the words dropping like stones.

“But you just said I’m not going to be eating tonight.”

“You’re not. You’re going to sit there and watch everyone else eat their dinner, and maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from them.”

“What are they going to teach me?” Sigrid asked, frowning. Ivar curled his lip and stepped forward. His warm, stale breath drifted toward her. He spoke in a low voice, but it was powerful enough to fill the hall, and everyone heard what he said.

“They will teach you how to act with respect around here. Not only do you not respect me, but you speak ill of the gods in front of other people! Do you not understand how this reflects upon me? You have always been a willful child, and I put this down to exuberance, but you are growing into a woman, and you cannot act like this. Until you learn how to behave, you will not eat. When you decide to respect me, you can have some food. So, is there anything you wish to say to me, now, something along the lines of, ‘I apologize for my behavior, Father, and I will never do it again,’?”

Sigrid’s heart burned with anger. She was already at her breaking point because of Gorm’s antics, and now Ivar had stoked the blazing fire that was her fury. To think that he would ever deprive her of food just because she didn’t do as he asked was despicable.

“I have something to say to you. You are not my father. You killed my family, and you might think that you can collect us all up and call us your children, but we all know it’s a lie. Everyone here knows you aren’t really our father, and even those you sired are a product of rape. You can’t call any of us your children, not really.”

A hushed gasp rippled around the room. Few dared to look at Ivar and Sigrid, while those who did look were unable to tear their gazes away.

Ivar’s nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed. When Sigrid looked into his eyes, she could see nothing but cold fury, but at least she knew she had touched a nerve, and that was worth a smirk at least. When Ivar spoke, his voice was a raspy whisper.

“You ungrateful child,” he said. “I bring you into my home—I give you a family—and this is how you repay me? You speak ill of the gods. You speak ill of me…well, it’s no wonder that your parents died without a fight if this is the kind of girl you are. I have tried to influence you, but you are too much like them. I should have killed you along with the rest of them.”

“I wish you had. Anything would be better than being here with you. You can’t even beat a man unless he’s half dead and bound.”

She barely got the words out of her mouth before she felt a sharp crack across her cheek. Pain bloomed. The strike was so forceful that it twisted her neck around in a jerking motion, and her mouth filled with something warm. Tears filled her eyes, although more from shock than sorrow. Her hand rose to touch her aching skin. Ivar stood there without any remorse on his face at all. He looked like a demon, and although her anger was mighty, she couldn’t escape the fact that she was a young woman while he was a bloated brute trained in the art of war.

She slowly turned her head back and looked at him, forcing herself to look at him to make him see that she wasn’t afraid of him. She could tell that he was almost daring her to say something else, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she looked around at her siblings to find some support, but there was none to be found. Even the ones she was closest with were looking away from her, too scared of their father to dare pledge allegiance to Sigrid. The others had no love for her anyway. She had never felt more alone.

Ivar walked up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her back into her seat. “Now, you’re going to sit here until we’ve all finished eating, and then maybe you’ll have learned a lesson,” he said in a terse voice.

Sigrid remembered what Erik had said about her being a prisoner, and she hated how perceptive he was. She folded her arms and glowered as she had to watch each of her siblings eat their dinner while her stomach rumbled and grumbled. At one point, Astrid—dear, sweet Astrid—walked up to Ivar with trembling hands. Her head was bowed, and she looked as though she was in supplication to a god.

“I have eaten my fill, Father. May I give what’s left to Sigrid?” Astrid asked. Ivar studied her for a moment but didn’t say anything. He took the bowl from Astrid and rose from his chair. Sigrid looked up, thinking for an instant that perhaps Ivar would show pity on her and give her some morsels to feed on. In a way, it would be even more humiliating, as though he was feeding scraps to a dog, but even that was too good for her. He walked near her and then turned toward the hearth, pouring the food into the fire. Sigrid watched as the broth was poured away, and then Ivar handed the bowl back to Astrid and told her to sit back down. Astrid shot an apologetic look towards Sigrid, but it wasn’t going to do anything to help her.

“It’s too quiet in here. We should be celebrating,” Ivar announced when he sat back down. “After all, we have good news. Kari is getting married,” he said. Sigrid looked at Kari in shock, for this was the first she had heard of it. “I know it is always custom for the eldest daughter to get married, but sometimes we have to adapt our traditions,” Ivar added, showing a toothy smile to Sigrid.

Sigrid burned with ire. As if being deprived of food wasn’t humiliation enough, now she was being overlooked for marriage. It wasn’t as though she had ever made herself amenable to the prospect, but she was the eldest and so she should have been the one to get married first. It was an incredible dishonor to be passed over for marriage, and she felt betrayed that Kari had not told her anything about it.