Page 50 of Alien Viking's Passion

At the last moment Aretha frantically redirected the slash to miss him by a fraction of an inch.

Craxon stood still for a heartbeat. Then he stepped forwards and came in to hug her tightly.

“Finally you know how to fight,” he said into her ear in the hot, sweaty embrace. “Just like that. Never hesitate. Go for the kill. Find some anger, but not too much. If you can’t, simply imagine it’s me you’re fighting. I will always love you, Aretha. I will thank Zhor every day for allowing me this time with you, short though it was. But even a lifetime would seem too short.”

He grabbed her blade with his bare hand and cut a long gash in his own forearm. Dark red blood welled out.

A hush came over the crowd as he raised his arm, blood running freely down it. “Lady Aretha wins the fight!”

Some in the crowd cheered, some were still confused about the fight to the death they had clearly witnessed. But then relief washed through them all and the cheer made Aretha’s ears ache.

Craxon walked into the crowd, slapped one of his huskarls on the back, cracked a joke, and vanished in the crowd, both men laughing.

Chen came quickly up to her, flustered. “What the hell wasthat?It looked like you were trying to kill each other!”

“I thought we were, at the end,” Aretha said, winded by the exertion. “But I guess not.”

“Are you okay?” Chen looked her up and down.

“I think so. I guess he just wanted to teach me to fight.”

“Looked to me like he wanted to cut you to shreds. But you’re still in one piece, so maybe not. Girl, you look like you need a drink.”

Chen grabbed her by the hand and dragged her along, the crowd having mostly dispersed.

Craxon was nowhere to be seen.

Aretha felt her face scrunching up. He was really leaving. And she had hoped so hard that he wouldn’t. She had wanted that much more than she’d even realized.

No, she couldn’t break down here. She had to pull herself together.

An old Viking woman came slowly towards them, tall and slender, dressed in a dark red dress. It was a color that was often used by shamans and such, Aretha knew.

The woman stopped and waited for them to reach her. “Greetings, Aretha of Earth.”

“Greetings, Wise Mother,” Aretha said in the Viking way. Any old woman was assumed to be a mother, and she was taking a chance on this one being some kind of priestess.

“It is a great sacrifice for our prince,” the woman said with a shaky voice. “But this is out of his hands. He has no choice. If you knew why, you too would urge him to go to his people and to leave you here, despite the pain in your heart.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Aretha said with a tinge of coldness, wanting to go on. She was not in the mood for busybodies.

The old woman’s hand shot out and grabbed Aretha’s upper arm and stared at her with eyes that lay in shadow. “You don’t understand. Prince Craxon hasno choice. Hemustdo this. If you know him, and if your love is as well placed as it should be, then you know it too.” The woman’s voice was intense, and it suddenly had a great weight, as if many centuries of Vikings were speaking through her.

“Yes, Wise Mother,” Aretha managed, her throat tightening. “But it is hard.”

“I know, little sister. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have been so close to him and then have him leave. But know that it is harder for him. You may have many loves. For him, there was only one. And it wasyou.” Her grip tightened. “Did you not see? Hewantedyou to kill him tonight. He offered his heart for you to pierce with that steel. That’s how much this hurts him. Sweet Zhor, help our beloved prince!” The woman gazed up at the stars with eyes that were clearly blind. Tears were running down her wrinkled cheeks.

Then she let go of Aretha and hurried away into the darkness.

“Damn,” Chen said, letting out her breath. “Some of these people are pretty intense, you know?”

“Tell me about it,” Aretha wheezed and wiped her own eyes. “It’s the most intense planet I’ve ever been on.”

Chen dragged her on. “Come on. Now I need a drink, too.”

- - -

“You can find another one. Royals are only trouble anyway. No offense, Josie, but your husband isn’t a royal yet. Just a chief.”

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