A Fate Inked in Blood: The number 1 Sunday Times bestselling fantasy romance
A Fate Inked in Blood: Chapter 10

A shriek tore from my lips as I fell, cutting off as I landed on my back, the wind knocked out of me.

My desperate gasps for breath were deafening, my body aching from the impact and my ears full of the panicked squeal of the pigs whose pen I’d landed in. They raced around me, their hooves clipping my arms and legs, but it wasn’t the pig shit that made my skin crawl. It was the certainty that I was running out of time.

Drawing my sword, I scrambled to my feet even as my eyes latched onto a shadowy figure coming through the open door.

“Have you lost your bloody mind?” Bjorn hissed, stepping into the light filtering through the hole in the roof. “What were you doing on the roof?”

Ignoring both questions, I stepped over a pig, cringing as one of my braids slapped me in the face, the hair covered in shit. I was lucky Bjorn had already given me a moniker because this was prime fodder for his humor. “There’s another force at the south end of the great hall. The attack from the water was a diversion.”

Bjorn swore. “We had guards stationed in the woods watching. That none brought warning means someone told Gnut where they were hidden and they’ve been killed.”

I swallowed hard. “They’re demanding Ylva hand me over or they’ll put fire to the hall.”

“They’ll do that regardless.” Bjorn reached into the pigsty and hauled me out. “You were right to escape. When my father discovers you gone, he’ll believe you dead or that Gnut took you, which he can’t take out on your family. Head south and don’t stop until you’re out of Skaland, and then never come back.”

“What are you talking about?” I demanded. “I didn’t jump to escape, you arse. I jumped because the great hall is full of people who need help. We need to replace Snorri and bring him to the hall’s defense.”

“I’ll warn him,” he answered. “You run. Gnut is the first jarl to come for you, but he won’t be the last. Far more dangerous men than him will soon turn their eyes on you.”

A chill ran through me, but I shook my head. “I’m not abandoning my people to save my own skin.”

I tried to pull away, but his grip was implacable as he said, “There is no saving the hall, Freya. My father is caught between two forces and half of his men are drunk. If it comes to it, he’ll take you and abandon Halsar.”

There were children in there, but I suspected that was not enough of a motivator. “Ylva’s in there. They’ll kill her.”

“Ylva crawled out of the great hall. She ran, likely in search of Snorri. It’s only a matter of time until they come looking for you and your chance at freedom will be lost. No matter what Ylva says, he’ll sacrifice everyone in that hall for the sake of keeping warriors alive until they’ve sobered up, because he values their lives more than those hiding inside.”

I believed that. Knew that Snorri’s obsession with becoming king would drive him to sacrifice everything. But that didn’t mean that I’d do the same. “What about you, Bjorn? Whose lives do you value?”

Silence.

I didn’t know if that meant he agreed with his father or not, so I said, “I’m not standing by while innocents die in a fight over me. If you try to stop me, I’ll stab you in the stomach.”

Bjorn snorted. “How do you propose to save them? To run past them, shield blazing bright, and hope the whole lot of Gnut’s army chases after you?”

“Hardly.” I lifted my sword. “I’m going to light his ships on fire and lure him down to the beach.”

It was the best plan I could think of.

A fleet of drakkar would cost a fortune in time and gold to replace. When they saw the fire, Gnut’s men would abandon the fight to save the vessels so they wouldn’t lose their ability to retreat. At least, that’s what I hoped.

“The ships will be under guard. Gnut’s no fool—he’ll protect his line of retreat.”

My hands balled into fists. “Then help me.”

Tension thickened between us, and I could hardly breathe. Not because I thought Bjorn would try to stop me but because I wanted him to help me. Wanted him to be the sort of man who’d do what it took to save all those in the hall. The breath I was holding came out in a gust as Bjorn finally said, “Lead the way, Born-in-Fire.”

We moved through the darkness and flame of Halsar, stepping over bodies and avoiding skirmishes, the smell of smoke thick on the air. More than once I heard, “She can’t have gotten far,” and knew they were talking of me. Bjorn had been right that Snorri’s focus was not on protecting his people but on replaceing me. I kept glancing backward, expecting to see great gouts of fire rising behind us. Expecting to hear screams as people either burned or fled, only to be cut down by the blades of Gnut’s warriors. Expecting the lancing pain of knowing that I’d failed to help them at all.

“That they haven’t fired the hall may mean they want you alive,” Bjorn said softly. “Perhaps Gnut fancies himself a future king.”

His words did nothing to ease my nerves.

We reached the edge of the town, Bjorn pulling me low, our shoulders pressed together as we eyed the beach and ships. I could feel the heat of him through the sleeve of my dress, almost as though fire burned inside of him as surely as it did the axe for which he was famed. He smelled of fresh-spilled blood and sweat, but also of leather and pine. Given the circumstances, I shouldn’t have cared, but part of me cringed that I currently reeked of pig.

“We’ll have to go in from behind,” Bjorn murmured. “There are too many watching the ships to overpower without them sounding an alarm. Can you swim?”

“Yes.” I unfastened my heavy dress, slipping it off my shoulders and dropping it in a heap, only to turn my head and replace Bjorn watching me.

“This idea of yours improves with every passing moment,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Thank you for convincing me to come with you. The first story I’ll tell as I walk through the gates of Valhalla, which may happen sooner than I’d anticipated, is of the shield maiden who stripped near naked to charge into battle.”

“I can’t swim in a heavy dress,” I snapped. “And I’m sure those in Valhalla will swiftly discover that your presence is much more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.”

He pulled off his blood-soaked shirt and tossed it aside. I scowled at him. “Why did you do that?”

“It’s a very heavy shirt,” he answered. “It might weigh me down. These too.” Bjorn started to unfasten his belt, but I swatted at his hand, choice words rising to my lips until I saw a slice along his ribs, his side streaked with blood. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.” He reached down to pick up a stick about as thick as my wrist. “Leave the sword. You won’t be able to swim with it. Take this instead.”

I took the stick, shivering as wind blew over us, the thin shift I wore doing nothing to guard me from the chill. Bjorn moved to block the breeze, then murmured, “I’ll light it once we’re out of sight.”

Keeping far away from the pooled torchlight of those guarding the drakkar, we crept down to the water. I flinched, the cold piercing my bones as I waded out, the depth eventually forcing me to swim. My breathing came in ragged little gasps, instinct demanding that I retreat, that I replace somewhere warm, but a backward glance at the great hall in the distance gave me courage to press forward.

It was almost impossible to see, so I followed the faint sounds Bjorn made as he swam ahead, able to move more quickly, given he wasn’t hindered by a stick. He circled around, then came at the drakkar from behind. Shivers wracked my body, my limbs growing stiffer with each passing second. Real concern that I might drown washed over me, and it was a relief when my feet struck ground. It was shallow enough to stand, though the swells of the fjord came up to my chin.

“I’ll lift you into the drakkar,” he whispered. “Light the sails and then get back in the water. We only want to draw them out of Halsar, not sink the fleet and force them to stand their ground. I’ll get the other ship.”

I gave a tight nod and then his hands closed over my hips. Despite the freezing water, his palms were hot through the soaked fabric of my shift, his hands big enough to span my hips, his thumbs pressing into the curve of my arse. The sensation sent a jolt of heat through me that was intensified when I felt his breath against my neck, my spine, and the backs of my thighs as he slowly lifted me to avoid any splash.

Catching hold of the side with my free hand, I checked to ensure no one was looking before hooking an ankle over and hauling myself in. Lowering the stick over the side, I waited.

“Tyr, grant me your flame,” Bjorn whispered, and I cringed as his axe burned to life, the glow so bright it seemed impossible no one would notice. But the eyes of the warriors guarding the drakkar remained fixed on Halsar. Seconds later, the crackle of flames reached my ears. I lifted the burning stick and pulled it out of view within the drakkar, keeping low as I crawled toward the lowered sails. One eye on the guards, I held the flames to the folds of fabric, grinning as they caught.

Get back in the water. Bjorn’s instructions repeated in my ears, but my eyes went to the drakkar next to the one I knelt in. What if Gnut’s warriors refused to abandon the fight for a drakkar or two? What if they needed more incentive?

With mead still fueling my impulses, I jumped to the next drakkar as fire crawled up the mast behind me. Whether it was the crackle of flame or the sound of my feet hitting wood, I wasn’t sure, but the warriors turned, their eyes widening in horror. “Fire!” one of them shouted, and I dived toward the sail, shoving the burning stick deep into the folds.

“Stop her!”

My pulse roared as feet thundered down the dock, and I lunged toward the edge of the drakkar and the relative safety of the water.

Only for my legs to jerk out from under me.

Cursing, I twisted to replace my ankle tangled in a rope. And the warriors were nearly upon me.

Terror turned my skin to ice, my heart fighting its way up my throat as I fumbled with the rope, trying to jerk my foot free. But the loop only tightened.

“Come on,” I pleaded, clawing at it with my scarred right hand, then switching to my left. “Come on!”

My nails scratched my skin as I got my fingers under the rope and pulled, managing to loosen the loop enough to get my foot free. Crawling to the edge, I tried to hurl myself over—

Only to be struck in the back with what felt like a battering ram.

I toppled and landed headfirst in the water, the weight of the warrior who’d struck me driving me down and down until I hit the rocky sea floor.

Panic pulsed through me and I twisted, clawing and scratching, doing everything I could to get out from under him. He only caught hold of my wrists, pressing them against the rocks hard enough to bruise.

I slammed my knees into his stomach and was rewarded with a rush of bubbles, but his hold didn’t falter, his feet churning to hold us both down. Again, I tried to kick him, but I couldn’t get leverage. Couldn’t hit him hard enough to make him let me go.

Pressure grew inside my chest. My body jerked this way and that but I couldn’t get free. And I needed to breathe.

Hlin, I begged, help me!

Magic surged inside me, waiting for me to use it, but my wrists were pinned. Which meant my magic was useless. I was useless.

And I needed to breathe. Gods, I needed to breathe!

Light flared overhead. A cloud of warmth washed over my face. The hands holding me down went limp.

I kicked my legs, trying to get to the surface for precious air, but I collided with the dead man.

Which way was up?

Which way was air?

My vision dimmed as my chest spasmed, my mouth opening to suck in air that was not there and—

Hands closed around my arms, hauling me upward. My head broke the surface right as I sucked in what had nearly been the last breath I’d ever take.

“I told you to get back in the water, not light the whole cursed fleet on fire!”

I was in no position to argue, only to gulp breaths as Bjorn pulled me away from shore. Away from the brilliant glow of fire and the desperate shouts of Gnut’s warriors, who were tossing water on the flames.

“It’s working,” Bjorn said, the stubble of his chin brushing against my cheek. “They’re retreating to save the ships. Look.”

He was right. Warriors spilled out of Halsar, weapons sheathed in favor of buckets, the dozens of men working in frenzied unison to salvage the three ships we’d set ablaze.

Slowly, the flames faded to embers, but as the men stood with buckets in hand, a drumbeat filled the air.

From the darkness of the streets, Snorri and his warriors appeared. No longer scattered and disorganized and drunk, the men and women moved with shields locked in a wall that would be no easy task to breach. As one, they made their way to the beach before stopping. And waiting.

A massive man wearing a helmet started down the dock. He pulled his axe from his belt and my breath caught.

The battle wasn’t over.

Despite all the death and destruction, they were going to keep fighting.

I’m not worth it, I wanted to scream. I’m not worth all of this death!

Except instead of attacking, the big man shouted, “Keep your shield maiden, Snorri. But know that every man here will die before calling you lord.”

“Your deaths are already woven.” The certainty in the statement made me shiver, and Bjorn’s grip on me tightened for a heartbeat before relaxing as we watched the enemy turn their backs on Halsar.

It was over.

We’d won.

“Your first victory, Born-in-Fire,” Bjorn murmured.

Fighting back a grin, I started to swim to the beach, only for my muscles to seize up from the cold. I floundered, but Bjorn’s arm wrapped around me. “I’ve got you.”

Though every muscle in my body screamed, I managed to say, “And here I thought your only value was your good looks.”

“You keep telling me I’m good-looking,” he answered as he pulled me back toward the beach. “If you aren’t careful, I’m going to start to think your intentions toward me are less than honorable.”

“Don’t worry,” I mumbled as he hauled me onto the beach, rocks digging into my back as I looked up at him. “Your looks aren’t good enough to compensate for your tongue.”

In the faint light, I saw him smirk. “Don’t underestimate my tongue, Freya. Especially in the dark.”

Despite being near frozen to death, my cheeks burned hot. “You have no shame.”

“I am merely being honest, Born-in-Fire.”

The cold had clearly turned my wits to ice because I was left grasping for a retort. Annoyed that he’d gotten the last word, I tried to stand. Only for my legs to buckle.

Bjorn caught me before my knees hit the rocks, pulling me onto his lap.

“I’m freezing.”

“You’re fine.” Bjorn belied his words by pulling me against his warm chest. “Besides, you needed a bath. You reeked of pig shit.”

“Bjorn,” I muttered into his throat, “fuck you.”

He laughed, and I felt it where my breasts were pressed against his chest, only the thin fabric of my shift separating my skin from his. He was so cursedly warm, and I snuggled closer, wanting to drain the heat from him into my numb flesh.

Bjorn’s hand curved against the small of my back, and I found myself deeply aware of each flex of his fingers, for they sent spikes of sensation deep into my core. There was comfort in his touch, a safety that I’d never felt with a man before, and my sluggish mind slowly turned over why that might be, given I hardly knew him, before landing on the reason.

It was because there was no demand in his touch.

No sense that he intended to take anything from me or to use me the way so many others had. A touch entirely without agenda beyond chasing away the cold. Tension seeped from my body, and I relaxed against him, focusing on the steady beat of his heart. Slowly, my shivers eased, my pulse no longer a frantic beast running out of control. The numbness retreated from my limbs, sensation returning to my fingers, and I felt the hard muscle of his back beneath my grip.

I had no right to do so for many reasons, but, of their own accord, my fingers trailed over the burn scar running over his shoulder blade. Bjorn shivered and drew in a deep breath, the movement causing his stubbled cheek to brush the sensitive skin of mine. An ache formed between my thighs, and I became excruciatingly aware that my bottom, clad only in soaked linen undergarments, was pressed against him in a most intimate way.

My imagination drifted, painting an alternate world where it had been Bjorn I was wed to today. Where it was Bjorn’s bedchamber I’d walked into. Where it was Bjorn who’d satisfy the lust in me that I’d always kept buried.

You hardly know him, I chided myself, but my body clearly thought it knew him well enough, for liquid heat formed between my legs. I shifted so that I could look at him, my eyes fixing on his full mouth. It was nearly always smirking, but not now. Instead, his lips were parted, his breathing as rapid as my own.

“Freya…”

I shivered at the sound of my name on his lips, his voice deep and rasping. But then, beyond, I heard the shouts of men and women, my name repeated over and over. They were searching for me, and if anyone found us like this, especially after what I’d negotiated with Ylva…

Gods, but I was an idiot.

Pushing away from him, I climbed to my feet, hoping he didn’t notice that my legs could barely hold me upright. “They’re looking for me.”

Bjorn didn’t answer, only rose with enviable grace, water dripping down his muscular torso to mix with blood that still oozed from the wound along his ribs. Without another word, he strode down the beach to where the warriors searched. I followed him, but slowly, allowing the distance between us to grow. It was a distance I needed to maintain, because clearly being close to Bjorn caused me to lose my head. I couldn’t afford that, and neither could my family.

My skin grew colder as Bjorn drew away from me until he was nothing more than a dark shadow in the distance. If only the same could be said of the ember of want that burned in my heart.