Chapter Thirty-Seven
There was an entrance to the jarl’s sleeping quarters at the far end that didn’t require going through the hall where many people slept. The same place where Thorvald and Sigurd had once made their beds not far from Ozrik. The jarl kept the door guarded.
It was guarded no longer.
Rain falling heavily, Thorvald began bashing the door. He gripped the rock in his hands hard, harder than was necessary, as if he wanted to make himself bleed. Anything to block out the roiling tumble inside of him he couldn’t contain.
Ozrik and Hrolf waited behind him, one with his own sword, the other with one he’d borrowed.
The wood split. He hit harder. Until he placed his hands on Alodie once again, there was no gentleness in him. No force in this realm or any other that could stop him. He’d tear down the village, plank by plank, pillar by pillar, mud wall by mud wall. And if she were hurt…
He smashed a hole big enough to see inside the room. The jarl appeared on the other side. Thorvald stumbled backward, chest heaving. The door swung open.
Jarl Erlendr had Alodie by the arm, twisted behind her back. Her clothing was intact, but the flaxen fabric was stained brown in the front with huge splotches of blood. The jarl wore nothing but a gash from the waist up.
Good. Thorvald had been right to give her the knife.
“I’m glad you’ve come. Saves me the trouble of having to find you.” His gaze fell on the bodies of his former guards that rested behind the three men, then he returned it to Thorvald, boring into him.
Ozrik and Hrolf came up to flank Thorvald. They too must have sensed something was very, very wrong.
The jarl twisted Alodie’s arm and she buckled, throwing her head back as she let out a cry. The sound pierced Thorvald’s heart, flooding him with agony.
“Why couldn’t you die, Thorvald Longsword? That’s what I expected you to do.”
“I did not fail you.”
“On the contrary. You did. And in the most spectacular way possible.”
Thorvald clasped the hilt of his sword harder. He was too late. First he’d kill the jarl. Then he’d burn everything in sight.
“This woman here is no princess.”
“No…what?” Thorvald brushed the rain from his face. “What are you talking about? You weren’t there. Of course she’s—”
“She tricked you. They hid the real princess.” The jarl flung Alodie forward. She fell in the mud at Thorvald’s feet, splashing his legs with wet black earth.
Thorvald looked down to the dark hair. She clutched her arm, face bent toward the ground.
“He’s wrong.” Thorvald’s voice came out scratchy.
Without looking up, she gave her head the slightest shake.
Thorvald stood mute. Not the princess? She’d…she’d lied?
Ozrik went to her side, unclasped the pin of his cloak to throw the wool around her shoulders, and helped her stand.
“You betrayed us.” Thorvald could barely speak as he stared at her, the face dear to him and familiar to his heart…the face of a traitor. “You betrayed me.”
Hrolf tugged at Thorvald’s arm. “What are you going to do now?”
Interesting question. There was one thing he was not going to do. He was not going to crawl into a hole and curl up to die. That path belonged to his father. He’d have no part of it, not now, not ever. “Leave her.”
Ozrik leveled him a dark look. “I’ll do no such thing.”
“I said leave her.” Thorvald raised his sword, but another clashed against it, hitting it down. He looked at Hrolf. “What are you doing?”
The young one shook his head and moved his mouth, but said nothing.
Instead, Ozrik supplied the words. “She tricked us to save her princess. She was loyal and that’s nothing to punish a person for. That’s all. Show some mercy.”
That was all? That was all? Thorvald had protected her. Treated her with honor. The lying, duplicitous creature hadn’t told him herself. Even after they’d had sex.
He forced himself to look at her. “You said you’d never have anything but contempt for me.”
“And it seems you’re living up to every last one of my expectations.”
“Yet here we are. You…” He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. It went so much deeper than mere trickery. If he couldn’t put his trust in her…
Hrolf brandished a sword.
Thorvald used the end of his own to give the center of Hrolf’s chest a little shove. “I don’t think you want to challenge me. You’re not much more than a boy.”
Hrolf thrust out his chin, eyes narrowing. “I bested you once, old man. I can do it again.”
Thorvald grunted. The youngster would be crushed if he knew the truth. Ozrik asked for mercy, and this was the only place Thorvald could find any. The young one would never know the truth of that fight. Hrolf would only see the truth as betrayal. He wouldn’t understand, neither what Thorvald had done, nor why he’d done it. Time and experience were cruel enough. Thorvald didn’t have to be.
One person here this night with the cold grip of betrayal closing around his throat was enough. Hrolf didn’t need his own taste of the black abyss.
Thorvald turned and walked away.