CHAPTER 1
“You want to go after the High King and the Bishop of Killaloe?” Galinn Ketilsson shot to his feet and stared at her as if she’d sprouted a second head. “You can’t be serious. After what you saw Travers do to Rónán, why would you consider such a thing?”
Thora Sveinsdottir ran a hand down her face and shifted her weight on her feet. Her eyes narrowed. “After what he did to Rónán, why wouldn’t you consider such a thing?”
Galinn’s gaze dropped to the fire behind her as he sagged back to his seat on the log. “I can’t have any more deaths on my hands.”
She plopped on the log by the fire, and took a sip of mead. This wasn’t how she expected him to react. Why wouldn’t he want to go after Donnchadh for using him as a pawn all those years? Or Travers for killing Rónán? She didn’t understand his reluctance on the matter. Not when he already expressed his desire to go after Travers. Maybe she was giddy from too much mead, or her taste of success in defeating Odinkar had her thirsting for more, but regardless of why she wanted it, the idea had merit. She had to get him to see that. “Why should they get away with the things they’ve done? I know it sounds crazy, and I know it will be one of the most difficult things we’ve ever done, but I will see this through.”
There was no way she would accept anything less than victory in killing High King Donnchadh mac Briain, Bishop David Travers, and the man Travers ordered to kill Rónán. She needed to see Donnchadh killed for the part he played in her family’s death. Travers—Thora refused to address him by his title or anything other than his surname—was an awful man who used his position within the church as a license to commit horrendous atrocities on people he viewed as enemies. Torture was his favored method of punishment, though what the crimes he punished people for were, or if they were even guilty, was often up for debate. Bjorn was slowly recovering from his run in with Travers. The thought of his condition, and how he could have died, brought a lump to her throat. She swallowed hard.
“It’s not a crazy idea, but you’re in no position to even consider it right now. Taking that idea and turning it into a workable battle plan is a monumental task. Thora, your village has forty people total. Most aren’t even fit to fight because they’re either too old, too young, or women Odinkar never allowed to train for battle. Travers has enough men in his guard to wipe all of you out. Donnchadh’s army… Well, you already know what it’s capable of.” Galinn spread his hands wide with a frown. “Look around you. You and your people are in a temporary outpost because the fort isn’t secure enough to protect you, much less be defensible while you plan your attack.”
Thora bristled at the reminder of how efficient the army was at launching surprise attacks and causing massive damage and casualties. She squared her shoulders. “The more you tell me I can’t do it, the more determined I am to prove you wrong.” She held up her hand to stop his response. “That doesn’t mean that I think you’re wrong, or that I’m being childish in my insistence. I know the idea has to be set aside because it will take time to prepare. We need to rebuild the fort at Dún Corcaighe. We’ll need allies who could help, and I’ll open training up to any woman who is physically fit and willing to hold an axe or sword.”
Galinn nodded and chuckled. “Bringing back the days of shieldmaidens is a good idea…if you’re any indication of how they’d turn out.” His smile faded and his eyes took on the faraway look she was beginning to recognize as a bad omen. “There’s been too much loss already.”
She knew his thoughts had returned to the idea of leaving for Dublin, but she was at a loss on how to change his mind. She couldn’t bear the idea of him leaving after everything they’d been through together. They were a good pair, and if the events of the last few days were any indication, they were better off together. He opened her eyes to the truth of Jarl Odinkar’s deceit, and how it led to her family’s deaths. If not for Galinn and the information on Odinkar he shared with her, she wouldn’t be jarl. Thora never had that kind of aspiration, but when she met him, everything lined up in such a way that her claiming the title as jarl was the natural solution. She found a peace she never expected to find, because when she killed Odinkar, she killed the person responsible for the deaths of her mother, father, and younger sister. She had that because of Galinn.
The eye opening wasn’t one sided. She brought him back to the village he was sent away from and showed him the people weren’t to blame for what Odinkar did to him as a child. She wiped away his tarnished view of the village by telling him the truth—something Donnchadh never did. Though he hadn’t said much, she knew she helped him let go of the anger and hatred he carried with him for years.
Since their meeting, they’d been able to begin the process of healing deep wounds, and she didn’t think either of them would have that opportunity if not for the other. Though they had a rocky beginning and she wanted little more than to kill him, she now found herself enjoying his company. She hoped to have more time to get to know him better and explore the newfound feelings. “Would you give me a couple of days before you make your decision on leaving?” When he appeared as if he would object, she added, “I could use your help in coming up with a plan to get these people back to the fort and get it shaped up to be our home.” She waved her hand and glanced around at the displaced villagers sleeping in their lean-tos and makeshift tents. “We can’t stay here.”
His mouth drew into a tight line. “I suppose a few days won’t hurt… I just hope no one finds out what I’ve done,” he said with a sigh. “If the people here find out I led that attack against the village…” He shook his head with a frown and looked away from her. “The guilt is weighing on me.”
Thora’s heart went out to him. “I can’t imagine how you feel, and I don’t know how to help you through this. I feel like you helping to get the fort more secure might ease some of your guilt, or at least give you a useful outlet for it. Maybe by helping to keep these people safe from future attacks, you’ll be able to reconcile your guilt against the good you’ve done.” Her selfish desire may have partially motivated her request for him to stay, but that didn’t change the fact that doing something helpful for the people he wronged may help alleviate some of his guilt.
Galinn nodded as he lowered himself from his seated position on the log to the ground. He slid down until the log propped up his shoulders while he rested his head on it. He closed his eyes.
Watching as he relaxed in preparation for sleep, Thora’s own need for sleep tugged at her consciousness. The celebration of her becoming jarl the night before had stretched beyond daybreak. Thora noticed only a few people were still up and about, and most of them appeared as if they’d fall over any moment. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head. “Galinn, I have a makeshift bed we could sleep in.”
His mumbled response was incoherent. Thora gave a longing look in the direction of the lean-to Bjorn set up for her before she settled in beside Galinn. Sleeping on the ground wasn’t her favorite thing to do, and she much preferred the comfort of her furs and blankets to lying outside with only her clothes to cover her. She leaned her head on his shoulder and smiled when he lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. She breathed in his masculine scent and all the tension eased out of her body as she admitted to herself that in his arms was where she wanted to be.
“Aw, Bjorn, would you look at these two?” Skathi’s voice forced Thora to climb reluctantly out of the lovely dream she’d been having about training with Galinn. She cracked open one eye, instantly regretting the action as the morning sun intensified the mead headache that slammed around her head.
“Aye, they look so loving and peaceful all wrapped up in each other.” Bjorn chuckled.
Galinn stirred beside her and sat up, removing his arm from around Thora. He looked at her as if he didn’t know how she’d gotten there, but then he smiled. “Oh, that must have been why I slept so well.”
Through barely opened eyes, Thora saw Bjorn nod. “I always sleep my best when I got this one in my arms.” He playfully slapped Skathi’s backside, causing her to blush.
Thora didn’t have anything to add, because she was trying to work out how the implications of Galinn’s words lined up with his desire to leave. In the end, the best she could come up with was that he cared about her—just not enough to stay. The thought hit her stomach like a stone.
“Come on, Jarl. There’s work to be done on this, your first official day as jarl.” Bjorn nudged her leg with his boot. She wanted to push his foot away, curl up with Galinn, and go back to sleep, but Bjorn was right. There was work to be done, and she had to make a strong showing if she hoped to convince the people that she took her position as jarl seriously. As all of the things she needed to tend to piled up in her mind, the drowsiness of sleep faded. Though she only slept a couple of hours, her energy rallied enough that she felt well rested.
She stretched away the remains of sleep and stood. “I’ll get a quick meal, and then we’ll see about getting to work on those fields for crops.”
Bjorn rubbed his chin. “Are the fields the biggest priority? I’d like to get back to the fort to continue the work you, Skathi, and the others started with our home. Assuming the place wasn’t put to the torch.”
“Me too, but if we don’t establish fields for planting quickly, it’s going to be a lean winter.”
“She has a point, Bjorn, and I’m surprised you need to be convinced of the priority of food.” Skathi patted his belly with a chuckle. Bjorn may have been approaching his fortieth winter, but he was still lean and muscular—and he had a healthy appetite to keep his warrior’s body well fed.
“Aye, I do like my food!” Bjorn joined in with the women’s laughter, though the effort obviously hurt his still healing wounds. Even when it was at his own expense, Bjorn was always quick to laugh. Thora smiled, reassured because if that trait was still there, Bjorn would be his old self, and hopefully carry no lasting effects from the torture he suffered at Travers’ hands.
Galinn was slower to rise, but he did stand and stretch his arms over his head. “While you’re working in the fields, I’ll ride to the fort, see if it still stands, and if so, see what needs to be done to fortify the place.”
Bjorn nodded while looking around the outpost. “I’m sure you’ll find no shortage of things needing to be done. Talk to Beri. He can help.”