They emerged from the church a while later dressed in monks robes, and they fell in line with another group of priests making their way through the village, towards the start of the meandering mountain pass.
Prince Lothair’s soldiers were manning a perimeter around the settlement, but they were letting the monks through, uninterested in the holy men, instead tasked with finding a Varangian soldier and a Roman princess. Destin’s plan might just work.
‘Pull your hood up,’ he whispered, as they neared the soldiers.
They had found the robes in the back of the church and had thrown them on, to see if the disguise would work. It covered them almost completely.
Still, she was tense as they passed the armed men, keeping the basic, roughened material of the cowl around her hair and face, hoping they wouldn’t be recognised in their disguise. Only when they had safely passed the blockade and started up the winding path, through the valley, did she allow herself to release the breath she was holding.
She was still trembling, shocked by what had happened in the church. She’d been horrified that those soldiers had killed the holy men in cold blood, for no reason at all. Was that what her uncle’s rule would be like? It was becoming increasingly clear she could not let him lead their empire. She would have to do something to stop him.
When she’d seen the soldiers’ bodies collapse to the floor, she had actually felt relieved, momentarily pleased they were dead. They had got what they deserved. And suddenly, she was glad Destin was the one who was protecting her. She couldn’t believe she’d ever doubted him—he was a sight to behold as he’d fought. She couldn’t bear to watch the stabbing of each sword, and yet she hadn’t been able to look away either. She had been in awe of his prowess. It had soon become clear the men were no match for his powerful strength. He’d seemed almost indestructible, his impairment not hindering him at all.
They followed the monks for a way, through the hills, the views of the snow-capped mountains dominating them on either side and in front of them. And she thought he was a little like the mountains—cold and rugged, imposing, lethal. When they came to a rocky outcrop, they broke away from the group to rest, allowing the entourage of holy men to carry on in silence without them.
‘We can probably take these off now,’ Destin said, nodding to the robes. ‘You know, I think this is the closest to your God I’ll ever get,’ he said wryly, his lips twisting.
She smiled. But she was glad to be rid of the garment, discarding it on a rock. She was surprised when Destin began to remove his maroon Varangian cloak too and ripped the dragon emblem from his tunic.
‘Probably best to obscure this for now,’ he said. ‘Are you going to be all right walking for a while? It gets pretty steep and narrow further up.’
‘Are we really going to attempt it without horses?’ she asked, wary.
‘Let’s aim for the hospice near the top, where I imagine these monks are heading. We could see if they’ll allow us to rest there for the night.’
She knew the stark, block-like building he was talking about. She had passed the place on the few occasions she had come through this way, vaguely being aware that it was a place where travellers could seek sanctuary. She just never thought she’d be one of them.
‘We might be able to borrow some animals, or a cart...’ he added.
‘Borrow...or steal?’ she asked, raising her eyebrow, referring to how he’d suggested they borrow her friend Theo’s horses—and then abandoned them.
He grinned at her then, and she felt her stomach flip. It took her by breathless surprise. It was the first time she’d seen him smile—and she thought her heart had stopped for just a second. He was incredible.
‘Hopefully your friends will soon be reunited with their animals. My stallion seemed pretty astute—they might even find their way back to the farm.’
When they started walking again, her legs felt shaky and she wasn’t sure whether it was to do with the fight, the long journey and lack of sleep, or the man beside her, making her feel a whole jumble of emotions. She just couldn’t work him out.
‘You’ve gone quiet. Are you sure you weren’t hurt back there?’ he asked, peering at her closely.
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Just bruised. How do you think my father is faring with his wound? Do you know how he was injured—and what he was doing fighting in the first place?’
‘He has been trying to expand into the south of Italy for years, much to Alexios’s despair. Much of the land he’d been fighting near belongs to the Byzantine Empire. I believe he was shot with an arrow in this recent battle. He has a wound just above his hip. It’s deep.’
She nodded grimly. ‘Do you think we’ll make it back in time for me to see him?’
‘I’ll do my best, Livia. Are you...very close?’
‘Yes, although since coming here, I don’t see him as often as I should like... At first, he insisted I return to Frankfurt, then Rome, but I think he thought I was safer out here, out of the way of his expeditions in Italy. And out of the way of other men at his court, after he’d secured my marriage alliance with the emperor. He always thinks he knows what’s best for me.’
‘And he doesn’t?’
‘No. And I don’t know why he insists on this Italian campaign. I think perhaps it filled a void after my mother died. But after my brother, Otto, was killed during one of those very battles, you’d think he might have stopped. It’s become all-consuming. Is Emperor Alexios the same? Does he thrive on war and expansion too? Does he fight himself?’
‘Alexios doesn’t need to fight—he has a great army of six thousand men to fight for him, in whatever campaign he wishes them to. But all men have goals greater than what they have currently, don’t they?’
‘What are yours?’
He frowned. ‘I have achieved mine. It was to make a name for myself, to earn respect.’ He shrugged. ‘My greatest one is to die with honour.’
‘You don’t want more?’ she asked, surprised, pausing on the path. ‘A wife. A family?’
‘No.’
She went quiet for a moment, letting that information sink in. ‘My mother and father cared for each other very much. They met at court and fell in love. There was certainly no bride show, no arranged marriage. I bet my father wouldn’t have dreamed of marrying a woman he didn’t even know...’ she said bitterly. ‘Don’t you want what your mother and father had?’
He bristled. ‘No.’
‘I should have liked a baby brother. Otto was much older than me and we weren’t that close. He was always my father’s focus, of course, being his son and likely heir. A younger brother would have been someone to talk to, to confide in, and have fun with. Do you have siblings?’
‘No.’
‘No?’ She stopped dead on the path, infuriated. ‘Is that all you can say? Here I am, wittering on, trying to make conversation after you tell me I’m quiet, but all you can say is no! Do you not have anything else to add? Anything else to contribute?’ she said, exasperated, lifting up her arms and letting them drop by her sides again.
He went to open his mouth to speak, probably to say no again, and she held her hand up to stop him. ‘You know what? Don’t worry. Let’s just walk in silence. I’ll save my energy to keep me warm.’
The temperature was dropping the higher they were climbing, and she was starting to feel the chill. Or she was just getting that from him. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her and stormed on ahead of him up the path. It was hard going and she was flagging—not that she’d ever admit it to him. Instead, she used her frustration at him to push herself on. He was maddening!
He didn’t seem comfortable in her company. He seemed tense. Perhaps he was just used to being surrounded by men, fighting in the emperor’s battles. But did he not have a life outside the Emperor’s Guard? She couldn’t understand how he wouldn’t want one. And yet she found it hard to believe he didn’t have experience of being with a woman...he was much too attractive not to have spent time in female company. He was right, she couldn’t imagine him living a monastic life! And she was cross with herself for her line of thought—for why did she even care?
Suddenly, she felt her arm being pulled back and he spun her round to face him. ‘Livia, look... I’m sorry.’
She tugged her arm out of his hold and he let her go. He raked his hand over his hair.
‘I’m not used to...this. All these questions. I’m a man of action and very few words. I like to keep my head down, get the task done.’
The ‘task’ being her, of course!
‘This is not my usual mission,’ he continued. ‘I’m usually sent to the front line to fight in the emperor’s next cause.’
She folded her arms across her chest, not willing to let him off the hook, although she was surprised he had apologised.
Was it so wrong to be polite, to show some interest in him and about where he’d come from? As the royal princess, she had been raised to ask questions, in preparation for all the people she would meet from many different countries at her father’s palace. She’d never met a Norse man before and she was genuinely intrigued. Perhaps more than she ought to be.
‘I don’t usually share things about my life, my past, with people.’
‘Why not?’
‘Perhaps I don’t want them to know. Perhaps there’s not too much to share.’ He shrugged.
‘I don’t believe that. You come from Norway. You’ve travelled down rivers and across lakes and mountains to get to Constantinople. I wish I was able to do that. You’ve fought in battles, seen so many places—much more than me. You’ve lived a life of adventure. I’ve been starved of it. It seems rude not to share it.’
He studied her. ‘You’re interested to know about all that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then ask me. I’m much happier talking about places than people, than myself.’
‘Why?’
‘I was raised to keep my thoughts and feelings guarded. The more people know about you, the more they can use it against you. It makes you vulnerable. Weak.’
‘And dull!’ she said. ‘You have to have friends. Allies. People you can trust. Maybe you should try it. It’s a miserable existence if you don’t. Don’t you trust me?’ she goaded him.
‘I don’t know you!’
She thrust her chin up in the air and he relented, as if impatient, wanting to get moving. ‘Sure, Princess,’ he said, exasperated. ‘I trust you.’
‘Yet you expect me to trust you on this journey, you expect me to put my life in your hands, but you won’t even share any details about yourself with me. So I tell you what, I will continue to walk up this mountain with you, if you tell me something about you. Something real. Something true,’ she challenged him. ‘And I promise, you can trust me not to tell anyone.’
He sighed. ‘You know I could force you to move. I could carry you...’
She stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest, although she was slightly unnerved at the thought of him putting her over his shoulder.
He sighed. ‘All right,’ he relented, as if he couldn’t believe he was playing this little game. ‘Something true... I didn’t want to come on this mission,’ he said, shrugging his one good shoulder.
She raised her eyebrow. ‘Why not?’
‘Because of all those things you’ve said...about all the places I’ve been, all the journeys I’ve made. I’ve had enough moving around to last a lifetime. I’d be pretty happy staying in one place for the rest of my days, but obviously whatever the emperor commands, wherever he sends us, we have to go. So perhaps we’re not so different, you and I? Perhaps we’re both being forced on journeys we can’t get out of, unsure where they will lead.’
She nodded, satisfied.
‘Is there a reward for coming to get me? For putting yourself in danger and doing this?’
‘Coin, as I told you. And my own satisfaction of doing my duty.’ She didn’t need to know that he was hoping to increase his status because of this. That probably wouldn’t go down too well. ‘Now can we please get a move on before we both freeze—or starve—to death?’ He reached out and curled his hand around her arm. ‘Let’s pick up the pace and get to the hospice.’
‘Will they let us in?’ Livia whispered.
‘They’re monks. They should be generous.’ Destin grimaced. He hoped so anyway. He didn’t like the sallowness of her skin, or the way her body was dithering. They’d been out on the mountain pass all day—far too long—and it had rained and rained, soaking them through to the bones. He needed to get her in front of a fire, fast. But he also hoped he was doing the right thing by bringing her here. He hoped these men wouldn’t recognise the princess—he wasn’t sure how good the relationship was between the Pope and the Roman king.
‘But they’re monks, I’m a woman, and you’re a...a...’ Her voice trailed off.
‘A what?’ he said, his eyes narrowing on her.
A kindly looking old man opened the door, saving her from answering.
‘I’m afraid we’ve got caught in the storm. We were hoping we might be able to seek shelter here for the night?’ Destin asked, offering a smile. ‘I don’t think we’ll make it back down the mountain before nightfall.’
The men whispered between themselves from behind the door.
‘Where are you heading?’ the one asked.
‘Rome.’
‘You’re a Christian?’ the man said, raking his eyes over Livia, then him.
‘Yes. I am. Actually, I am an acquaintance of the Pope,’ Livia said.
The man’s eyes opened wide, and Destin swung to look at her.
‘We don’t usually have women or warriors here, but, as the weather is so bad, it would be unchristian of us to turn you away.’
The door slowly opened to let them in and Destin sensed Livia almost wilt in relief at his side. The holy men must have taken one look at their frozen faces and taken pity on them. Or were they just intrigued by her connection to the Pope? So much for not sharing too much information. Now they would have questions... But Destin too was glad of the respite from the bitter wind and rain, and he was glad she would have a bed for the night. They had travelled without food and sleep and she must be exhausted.
‘You’ll have to leave your weapons outside.’
Destin hesitated.
Livia gave him a look.
‘Very well,’ he said reluctantly, leaving his sword leaning against the wall. But he made no move to lay down his hidden knife in his belt. Her eyes on him, he knew she was aware of it.
‘Thank you so much,’ Livia said, grateful to the men as she stepped inside.
‘I’m Father Sebastian,’ the white-haired man said. ‘We have some pottage on the fire, which won’t be long, and one last room available you can have. It’s our smallest, I’m afraid. Basic but comfortable enough.’
‘Thank you,’ Livia said again. ‘You’re most kind.’
‘Come, I’ll show you the room.’
Destin followed behind Livia, his body already tense from the monk saying he had one room. He would have no reprieve from her, and yet what did he expect? If he was to watch over her and keep her safe, this was for the best.
‘Here it is,’ Father Sebastian said, pushing open a door.
The room was certainly basic—in fact, it was rather desolate. There was a bed, a few furs, a chair and a writing desk.
‘Thank you,’ Destin said.
‘It’s very good of you,’ Livia added, her voice sounding strained.
‘I’ll leave you to make yourselves comfortable. Come and have some pottage and warm yourselves by the fire when you’re ready.’
When Father Sebastian shut the door, Livia turned on Destin, wide-eyed and panicked. ‘We can’t share this room! Why didn’t you ask for another?’
He understood her reservations. Hadn’t he just been having exactly the same thoughts? And for a woman of her standing to share a room with a warrior, alone, before she was wed, it would all but ruin her reputation. But they didn’t have a choice.
‘He said he only had one room. And how can I protect you if I’m halfway down the corridor? What if your uncle’s men come here looking for you?’
She shivered at the thought, running her hands up and down her arms.
‘Your safety means more to me than your reputation.’ And not just because he’d been tasked to bring her back to Constantinople. He felt protective of her—more than he should. Helvete! He didn’t want to feel this way.
‘This hospice might be a target. After your uncle’s men search the village and rip it apart, it’s likely they will come this way looking for us. No, unfortunately, we’re stuck together,’ he said, just as disturbed at the thought as she was.
‘What would my father say—and Emperor Alexios? It’s improper! It’s not right.’
He stared at her, feigning nonchalance. ‘I’m sure they’d understand, given the circumstances.’ Only he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her, or himself. He didn’t like the idea of spending the night in such close proximity to her either—it would be intolerable. Her floral scent was wrapping around him even now, and he wondered how the delicate fragrance hadn’t washed off in the rain. If anything, it had grown stronger. ‘But I don’t see how they would even find out. I’m not going to tell them, are you?’
She shook her head.
‘So who is going to know?’
‘I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse!’ she said miserably.
‘Look, I’m not going to come near you, Livia. You have my word. You can take the bed and I’ll have this chair here,’ he said, rattling the back of it. It looked like a torture device. ‘It’s not like I’ll be going to sleep anyway, I’ll be guarding you all night. You’re safe with me.’
She nodded, and yet he noticed she bit down on her lip, unsure.
‘I suggest we give ourselves different names when speaking to the monks. We’ll need to make up a story, get our facts straight, about why we’re here and where we’re heading. Father Sebastian obviously thinks we’re married...’ he said, gesturing to the one bed. ‘Perhaps we can say I’m a soldier in the King’s Guard and you’re a nobleman’s daughter...’
She nodded, but then looked around, as if distracted.
‘It’s rather basic. Not what you’re used to, I know...’ he said.
She shrugged. ‘It’s better than the stables last night.’
He grimaced. But she didn’t know real hardship... He walked over to the small opening in the wall, big enough to let in air and light, and he could just see a light smattering of snow falling, covering the tall pine trees and the glittering lake. After checking no one was outside, he closed the wooden shutter. The scenery reminded him of those adventures with Áki—the glorious views of the mountains meeting the fjords, and how they’d wanted for nothing but the clothes on their back, the food they could find and the next shelter for the night. He actually felt at home out here, like this. Or would, if he didn’t have an enemy pursuing them and a maddening, beautiful woman at his side.
‘I bet even the luxurious palace and warm weather of Constantinople is seeming pretty tempting right now...’ he said, turning to look at her over his shoulder.
She cast him a glance and shook off her sodden cloak, hanging it over the back of the chair. Her tunic and stola were wet through, clinging to her breasts, and he swallowed. He forced himself to look away.
He placed her satchel down on the bed. ‘I think you’d better change before dinner,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait outside.’
She nodded, rubbing her arms which were bristling with goose flesh. ‘Thank you.’
He was glad to step out into the corridor, to put some distance between them for a moment. He hadn’t been out of her proximity since they’d fled the castle. His stomach growled in recognition of the fact he hadn’t eaten in that long either, and yet his rumbling belly couldn’t distract him from his thoughts of what was going on behind the closed door. He’d been given a glimpse of what those perfect swells looked like beneath her tunic and when he pictured her peeling off her wet garments, his lower body hardened in response. Good grief, how was he going to endure a whole night in the same room as her? Perhaps it would be better to sit out here, on guard, but then he’d worry someone might try to get in through the small window.
He started when the door opened. ‘I’m ready,’ she said. And then looked him up and down. ‘What about you? You’re wet too.’
He shook his head, eager to be among others so they didn’t have to be alone for a moment longer. Maybe then he would stop thinking about her beautiful body and the long night ahead. He took her by the arm to lead her down the corridor. ‘I’m fine. I’ll warm up by the fire.’
He thought how ironic it was that he was relieved to be in the company of a group of monks. Usually, he’d walk straight back out again. They were worlds apart. If they knew he was a pagan, they’d probably turf him out of here, leaving him on the side of the mountain to freeze to death. But right now, he was glad to have them around.
The men were all sitting at a long wooden table and Father Sebastian, who had greeted them at the door, gestured for them to join them and take a seat. Livia slipped into the bench first and Destin followed her. He was excruciatingly aware of her nearness, his thigh pressing against hers, their arms brushing.
The monks served them a bowl each of pottage and the men put their hands together to say their prayers. Destin copied them, closing his eyes, aware Livia was watching him. He was glad when it was over and they all tucked in. Livia must have been as ravenous as him, as she ate heartily.
‘What brings you out here and why are you going to Rome?’ Father Sebastian asked.
‘We are visiting family there, although we foolishly mislaid our horses in the settlement today. Do you know where we might be able to source some other animals, or a cart?’
‘I’m afraid we can’t help you there. We make all our pilgrimages on foot, and only have one mule to get to market between the lot of us. But there is a farm in the next valley along. They make regular trips into Italy and might allow you to ride with them.’
Destin nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘What did you do to your arm?’ Father Sebastian asked.
He flinched at the age-old scrutiny. He should be used to it, only there was something about Livia sitting next to him, hearing it, that made him uncomfortable. She looked up from her bowl and to his surprise, she interjected.
‘Foolish accident,’ she said, answering for him, placing her hand lightly on his good arm. ‘My husband can be so clumsy. He tripped and fell down the stairs at our home in Saxony. Bashed his head at the same time and I’m not sure he’s been quite right since. I keep telling him he must be more careful.’
His gaze swung to look at her, and he saw her mouth twitch at the corners. So she was beginning their story, was she?
‘Yes, I really must,’ he added, his own mouth curving up into a smile. For the first time in his life, he enjoyed the light relief rather than the serious answers or excuses he often made.
‘What are your names?’ the monk beside Father Sebastian asked.
‘This is Cassius,’ Livia said, her hand still on his arm.
He stared down at it, and then up at her. Her eyes were glittering with amusement. ‘I was warned it means hollow, but I assure you, he’s anything but.’
His eyes narrowed on her. Deciding on revenge, he sat back in his chair, moving his arm to place it around her shoulders. ‘Isn’t my wife, Serena, just the best?’ he said. For added effect, he gave her upper arm a squeeze, and she froze. It pleased him. ‘She is a wonderful singer in church. I’m sure she should like to perform for you after the meal.’
‘Oh, I’m sure they don’t want to hear that, dear,’ she said through gritted teeth.
‘How long have you been married?’ the monk asked.
‘It’s a recent collaboration,’ Destin said.
‘Although sometimes it feels like we’ve been together for far too long...’ Livia said, smiling a little too sweetly. She caught his gaze and something passed between them, making his breath stall, and he found he didn’t want to look away.
‘Marriage is hard,’ the elderly man said. ‘It’s a commitment. It takes work on both sides. I know I couldn’t do it, which is why I’m wedded to the church. Wine?’ he asked, as he offered them the jug.
‘Thank you,’ Destin said, releasing Livia from his grasp, taking it from him and pouring her and then himself a cup. He took a large swig, slaking his thirst. When the monks turned to speak to one another, Destin leaned in and whispered in Livia’s ear. ‘You’re going to hell now,’ he jested.
He couldn’t believe it, but he was actually having a good time.
‘So, tell us how you know the Pope?’ Father Sebastian said, his attention coming back to them, and suddenly it seemed as if all the table had stopped talking and turned to look at Livia.
Destin gave her a warning look.
‘My father is friends with him,’ she said truthfully. ‘I have been lucky enough to meet him on two occasions, when he visited the king’s palace in Rome.’
The whole table practically leaned closer to hear her, their mouths gaping.
‘What is he like? We are all very eager to meet him ourselves...’ Father Sebastian said.
‘He is a quiet and proud man. You feel as if you are in great company when you are with him.’
And as Destin listened to Livia speak, he turned to look at her. A pinkish glow had entered her cheeks, from the fresh mountain air, or the wine, and her golden-brown eyes looked like yellow diamonds in the candlelight. She really was beautiful. She seemed to have warmed up a little from the food and the roaring fire. And she was speaking clearly, engaging the priests who were hanging on her every word. She could certainly hold her own with a roomful of men—even if they had all taken a vow of celibacy. She was a good fit for the emperor; she would make a good wife and queen. And yet he felt a burning sensation in between his ribs at the thought, and he rubbed his chest where it ached. But he mustn’t do that. She was not his to feel jealous about.
‘Did you hear the king is dying?’ Father Sebastian asked them, putting his spoon down in his empty bowl.
Livia tensed and Destin instantly wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her. She put down her cup and wiped her hand on her skirt.
‘We had heard he had been injured,’ Destin said, stepping in to answer for her, as she had done for him at the start of the meal. ‘We weren’t sure how serious it was. Has there been any further developments at all?’
‘The word is he has a fever, from the wound getting infected. We have been told the Electoral College are preparing themselves for his death. They’ll vote for a new successor.’
Destin placed his hand over hers under the table and for once, she didn’t cast him off.
‘And who are the people calling for?’ Livia asked, raising her chin.
‘It is not for us to speculate, dear,’ Destin said. ‘And it is pointless to. Perhaps it is time for us to go to bed.’
‘I am interested to hear what the priests have to say on the matter,’ she said.
‘Some feel the crown should go to the king’s brother,’ Father Sebastian said.
Destin’s grip tightened around Livia’s fingers, trying to offer her reassurance.
‘Others are calling for the Princess Livia. Rumours are rife, of course. It is an uncertain time for all.’
She nodded, and he gave her hand a final squeeze before reluctantly releasing her.
As the meal came to an end and the monks began to leave the table one by one, departing to read, or write or sleep, Destin excused himself to do a last check of the building, and to make sure all the doors were fastened shut, before coming back to fetch Livia.
He was shocked to find her helping the men wash the dishes in a bucket of soapy water.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked her, through gritted teeth.
‘I’m helping!’ she said exuberantly. ‘My dear husband won’t let me lift a finger at home, so I’m enjoying doing some chores for a change,’ she said to the remaining monks around her.
‘My dear wife has had too much wine. I believe it’s time for bed,’ he said.
She picked up the bucket to pour away the dirty water and he went to take it from her, and the water sloshed all over the side, down his tunic.
‘Helvete!’ he cursed quietly.
He eased the bucket from her hands and drained it, before picking up a candle and coaxing her away, leading her back down the corridor. ‘If your father could see you washing dishes he’d be appalled!’ he whispered.
‘I think he’d be appalled by a lot more than that!’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I got you all wet after you’d finally dried off.’
She carried a tankard of spring water and took the candle from him in her other hand as he opened the door and held it open for her, letting her step through first. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
When she spotted his sword on the desk, she gasped. ‘You’re not allowed that in here!’
‘I’ll need it if anyone comes here looking for us,’ he said, taking the candle back off her, closing the door behind him and leaning against it, watching her.
‘Will they?’ she asked, hesitating in the middle of the room.
‘I hope not. Not tonight anyway. It’s getting pretty late, and it’s dark and lethal out there on the mountain pass. There was a light falling of snow earlier, it might have iced over.’
She sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at him, her hands awkwardly stroking over the furs.
‘You’ve had a busy day. We have another journey ahead on the morrow. You should get some sleep now, Livia. I’m going to have to take this tunic off and hang it to dry,’ he said with a grimace. ‘If it’s going to offend you, I’d look away now.’
She duly looked away as he undressed, busying herself with pulling off her own boots.
With his one hand he lifted the sling from around his neck, loosening it, allowing him to shrug himself out of the wet garment and hang it over the back of the chair with her damp cloak.
‘You know, if I’m going to hell, like you said, I think it must be confession time,’ she said. ‘I didn’t like you much when I met you.’ She looked up at him and her eyes widened, raking over his upper body, before quickly glancing away again, her cheeks turning a pretty pink colour.
‘No?’ He mocked. ‘I would never have guessed.’
‘But I’m starting to think you’re not so bad. I had fun tonight. Who’d have thought that would be possible—with a Norse man and a group of monks.’
He nodded. He had felt the same. ‘Good. But enough talking. Bed now,’ he said gruffly.
‘I think I blamed you for everything. For forcing me to leave Harzburg and travel to Constantinople. For pushing me towards a wedding day I don’t want. It felt good to lay all the blame at your feet. I know it’s not your fault that you’re making me do this.’
‘I am sorry anyone is forcing you to do anything. But perhaps it won’t be as bad as you think,’ he said. Only he was starting to think he didn’t want her to marry Alexios either. He didn’t like the thought of her with any man, which was madness. He had no right to feel this way.
He vigilantly checked the door and the window were both locked, and when he turned back round, she was lying down on the furs, making herself comfortable, rolling over onto her side. He moved to the chair, putting the candle down on the desk, before blowing it out, descending the room into darkness.
‘I’m sorry they brought up your father.’
‘At least we know he is still alive. For now.’
‘Yes, I’m glad. Goodnight, Highness.’
‘Livia,’ she corrected him.
‘Goodnight, Livia.’
Livia lay there wide awake in the pitch-black room, so aware of him. She could hear the sound of his steady breathing from his position on the chair at the end of the bed. She had been lying still for ages, trying not to move, but she was parched. She needed water, her mouth dry from the wine.
She couldn’t get the sight of his magnificent body out of her mind. It had shocked her.
His tunic covered a multitude of scars and strange, swirling patterns of blue dye. She had never seen a man’s naked torso before, and she hadn’t been able to stop her eyes from roaming over his skin... It had only been a moment, but it had made a lasting impression. The scars and ink etched across his muscles were like some kind of tapestry, giving a glimpse of the battles he’d experienced, the brutal story of his life. She had wanted to ask about them, find out how he’d got the injuries and what the intricate symbols meant, but she had stopped herself. She knew it was inappropriate. But now she wondered how she would ever get the vision of him out of her thoughts.
She sat upright, trying to focus in the darkness. Where was the tankard of water the monk had given her?
She threw off the furs and tiptoed out of bed, but almost immediately tripped on her boot, stumbling, muttering a curse, and fell into something solid. Something warm. Something awake and very bad-tempered.
His muscles bunched. ‘What are you doing?’ Destin barked, his hand coming round her wrist to steady her.
‘Sorry,’ she gasped. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’
‘You didn’t.’
‘I’m looking for the water.’
He righted her, before standing and finding the tankard with ease in the blackness, before pressing it into her hand. How did he do that?
She took a big swig, quenching her thirst.
‘I probably had too much wine,’ she said.
‘Well, it was holy wine.’
His voice sounded deeper in the darkness. Velvety and smooth. And he was so close, she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.
She passed him back the jar and his fingers brushed against hers, making her tingle.
‘Better?’ he asked. She nodded, before realising he couldn’t see her.
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Now go back to bed.’
‘I can’t sleep.’
‘Try.’
She felt her way back to the bed and lay down, curling back up, closing her eyes. But it was no use. She flipped over again and sighed.
‘I don’t think I thanked you—for saving my life today,’ she said.
‘It’s what I’m here for.’
‘I still don’t understand why you’d risk your life for me. You must want to please the emperor very much.’
‘It’s what he commissions me to do. What I’m best at.’
He was certainly the better man today against those soldiers.
She heard him shift in his seat.
‘That chair can’t be comfortable,’ she said, propping herself up on her elbows, trying to make out his frame in the darkness. He must be exhausted. ‘You could lay the furs on the floor instead?’
‘I’m good here,’ he bit out, his voice sounding strained.
She felt as if the air was vibrating with something, something palpable. She had felt it at the meal, too, when their eyes had met and their thighs had collided under the table. His blistering gaze had burned into hers, his mouth curling up into a wide smile, and she had been caught in his spell. She hadn’t wanted to look away. She didn’t know how she had thought he had cold eyes when she’d first met him, because now it was as if she saw fire burning within them. And when he’d put his arm around her, pretending she was his wife, she had felt her pulse rocket, her blood heat. Had he felt it too?
‘Do you have a woman back in Constantinople?’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ he asked, incredulous.
‘I was just wondering...why don’t you want to get married?’ she asked. ‘I don’t understand it. You’ve achieved your goal of becoming a commander in the Varangian Guard. Why wouldn’t you want a wife and a family?’
‘You don’t want to be married.’
‘That’s not true. I do want to marry one day. I’d just like to choose my husband for myself. So why don’t you?’
‘It would put a stop to me being a warrior, would it not?’
‘I don’t see why. Many soldiers have families... There must be more to it than that. What’s the real reason? Did you not like being part of a family growing up? Did your parents not get along?’
‘Helvete, Livia. All this prodding and probing. You never stop, do you?’ he said, and she sensed him get off the chair and stand.
‘I’m sorry. I just...want to know you, that’s all.’
She heard him sigh in the darkness. ‘If it’s going to mean you’ll stop asking me all these questions so I can go to sleep, I’ll tell you. I don’t have a family, Livia! I don’t know much about my background, where I came from... I was raised by strangers...so enough of the personal questions, all right? If you must know, it’s a miracle I survived past childhood. But somehow, I did. And I thought if I achieved enough, I might be deemed worthy.’
Of love? She wondered. Or was he talking about praise and accolades?
She was shocked at the revelation, and felt a sudden pang of sympathy for him—and a little guilty that she had forced him into admitting it. But she was glad he had. If he was an orphan, that explained a lot. She knew what impact the loss of her own mother had had on her at such an early age and she wondered what effect this had had on him. To not know who he was or where he’d come from.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to pry. But I don’t understand. You don’t want to marry because you didn’t have a family growing up?’
She sensed him stop pacing. ‘No. I won’t marry because, well, why would I subject anyone to that?’ he said bitterly.
‘What?’
‘In Constantinople, as in most cities or settlements, disfigurement is seen as a disgrace. I won’t subject a wife to that. And I don’t know what my impairment would mean for children. It would be too cruel to bring a child into this world knowing they could be like me. I won’t leave that legacy behind.’
‘But that’s...that’s irrational’ she said, shaking her head. She couldn’t believe he thought of it that way. If only he could see what she could see when she looked at him. He was the most attractive man she had ever met—and suddenly she wondered what it would be like to touch him, to run her fingers over the scars and ink on his skin. To kiss him... The thought shocked her.
‘Take the emperor,’ he said, pacing now, on a roll, his words more prolific than she’d ever heard from him. Perhaps the darkness was helping him to talk more freely. ‘He’s God’s sovereign ruler, is he not? His wholeness, his looks, are meant to represent the perfection of heaven to people, yes? That’s why deposed Emperor Constantine was blinded, and Emperor Basil mutilated by Alexios’s father, so they can never take back the throne. Looks mean everything to you Christians.’
She wondered if her uncle meant to do the same to her, and she shivered.
‘I guess you’re right... I have been at the mercy of that too...plucked from the line-up of the twelve maidens deemed the most beautiful for the emperor’s bride show—and chosen for my looks alone,’ she said bitterly. ‘I didn’t want my marriage to be based on that. I am so much more than just a face, a body...
‘I know that,’ he said quietly.
And she felt a rush of pride and pleasure. Did he really think so?
‘So are you.’
He stopped pacing.
She still couldn’t believe he was saying he thought he was monstrous. Unlovable. He was far from it. Her heart went out to him and she wanted to show him that wasn’t true. That there was so much about him to admire.
‘I read that your God, Odin, had only one eye. That he gave the other up willingly, as a sacrifice, throwing it into the well to learn the knowledge it contained.’
He stilled. ‘You study our gods?’ he asked, surprised.
‘We’re not meant to, no, but I couldn’t help it. I found the stories fascinating. So what about Tyr? Didn’t he only have one hand, after the wolf, Fenrir, bit off his right one? But he is still the most powerful warrior of all the gods...like you, the most powerful of men. Perhaps you need to start comparing yourself to your own gods, rather than ours?’
Silence reigned for a few moments as her words sank in.
‘I’ve never thought about it like that before,’ he said.
‘Maybe you should start now.’
She stood, taking a step towards where she thought he was in the middle of the room. She reached out her hand and her fingertips met the warm, smooth skin of his bare solid chest. Tentatively, she flattened both her palms against him. He inhaled deeply.
‘What are you doing?’ he rasped.
She roamed her hands up, over his chest. ‘Can you feel this?’ she whispered.
‘Yes, but...’
She ran her fingers over his shoulders, curling over them. Leaving one hand where it was, the other stole higher, up his neck, to hold his jaw, her trembling thumb finding the corner of his mouth.
She raised herself up off the ground, on tiptoes, and she leaned in and placed a soft, sweet kiss on his lips.
He pulled back, urgently. ‘Livia, what the—’ In an instant he’d reached out and snatched her wrist up in his hand, hard, holding her away from him. ‘What are you doing?’ His tone seemed angry.
‘I just—’ She didn’t know what she’d been thinking; she’d just wanted to touch him. To show him she cared... She wanted him to be the first man she kissed.
‘Don’t,’ he warned her.
‘But...’
‘No!’ he bit out. ‘I won’t discuss this again. Now go back to bed and stay there.’