Page 2 of The Bone King and the Starling

Perhaps, one thing.

To be conquered by her in return.

“I…am not,” I bluster, embarrassed in ways I have never been. I am unused to this. To being received as a man, only, and in the presence of a female so lovely the gods have grown jealous of her. That they would send her here, to this place at the forgotten end of the world, where she would be made to work at the lowest tasks and be treated by the villagers with cruelty as she does it, it is a disgrace. Only redeemed by the fact that the gods sent me here to fix it all, and to find her.

“Are you of Wrath?” Gods, her voice is saccharine-sweet. She is too soft. Too small. Too decadent a creature for the likes of me.

And it matters not. I clear my throat, my hand twitching again. I move it to the handle of my axe to keep from reaching out and grabbing her, no better than the boy who came before. “I am.”

“Are you passing through?”

“In a sense.” I shift my weight uncomfortably between my feet.

She edges back, undoubtedly put off by my uncertainty. I want to ease her, yet I open my mouth to say something, anything that will keep her here, and find nothing. My lungs are dry. The gods who have brought me to her feet forsake me now.

She takes a step away from me, towards the longhouse. “I should return to my duties, sir. It was very nice to meet you. You have been very kind. I will not forget such kindness.” When I do not say more, she turns from me with a short bow.

She does not know that the gods have interceded, changing her fate forever.

I have already overstayed my time in this village, but I linger, waiting until the darkness is thicker than syrup, long after the fires have grown cold, after the drunks have crawled off to bed and the thralls have taken their rest among the rushes.

I slip into the hall and position myself near another group of travelers. They eye me warily but grow more comfortable when I pay them no attention, but instead watch the thralls huddle together for warmth in this drafty place. A disgrace. And it is not only because she is here among them. No one deserves the humiliation of having to sleep here, in this. I can only imagine what these travelers think, being welcomed into Winterbren like this, and I snarl under my breath, drawing the eyes of a young girl sleeping between her parents among the other travelers. She looks directly into my eyes, despite my hood and offers me a small wave. I wave back.

The girl’s mother notices our exchange and directs the girl’s attention away from me and I smile. If only the thrall I am after had someone to watch over her as this young girl does. Because, as my gaze finds the dark swath of her curls among the other thralls asleep on the floor, I watch her shiver and know. This thrall, who has nothing to protect her from the cold as she nestles amidst the rushes with not even a thin blanket to cover her will find shelter soon enough. I will be her shelter. And yet…

Doubt hovers over me like a cloud.

This poor thrall has nothing and no one. She is young and abused, clearly alone. It will take time for her to understand what I already know.

She is destined for me by the gods.

She will be frightened and unsure when I return to stake my claim. I will need to restrain myself with her. I will restrain myself with her, I assure myself, even as my disobedient cock swells in my trousers at the thought of having her pretty face turned up towards mine — her on her knees, my fist wrapped in her curls, restraining her so that I may do what I like and take my time.

My desire is not a beast I have often — if ever — lost a battle of wills to. But I struggle now. Struggle to remain against the wall, watching, when I want so ardently to go to her, pick her up and take her back to my camp, have her among my things, as a Viking should. We are not a people who wait and watch, but raid and take. At the very least, I long to go to her now and give her my cloak, my fur, to shelter her from the cold. I am failing her already.

Wait. Wait… Tomorrow. This is her last night like this.

I itch with yearning, but I know that I must wait to reveal myself to her in the daylight. For tonight, I watch her sleep. And then I wait longer, long enough that I know my warriorswill have begun to worry, but I want to ensure that she remains unbothered by the blond fool.

Finally, when I feel the familiar irritation resulting from sleeplessness begin to set in, I rise and leave the great hall that is many things but not great. I find my horse, who is displeased to have been kept in these unfamiliar stables for so long, and return to my camp.

There, I find the prisoner we took from among the bandits that attempted to raid our caravan two days prior. We originally took three prisoners, but two were sacrificed in the full moon ritual. I take the last and sacrifice him to Raya and Ghabari, carving his skin from his flesh methodically while he screams.

I bathe in his blood beneath the light of the full moon and offer my thanks to the gods for bringing me here to this small village on the outskirts of Wrath where my wife has been waiting for me.

THE THRALL

I’m cold, but that means nothing in Wrath. It’s cold all year and we are just entering the very cold season. As a thrall, I’m not allowed furs, so I wear my only wool dress layered atop a long canvas tunic. Both are drab enough, they capture the color of the ominously low sky, and both are too thin, having been worn by the village chief’s three daughters many times before they came to me.

All three of our chief’s daughters have been promised to their future husbands, though only one has wed. The eldest now lives in the neighboring village. The youngest is pledged to Viccra, a good man, though the second oldest is pledged to Tori. I would pity her had she not spent so much effort being needlessly cruel to me and to the other thralls, Mirabel in particular.

I wrap my hands around my elbows, squeezing my arms tight around myself to try to stop shivering. Ebanora, standing at my side, makes a short snickering sound that causes me to look at her, but her gaze has lowered to my chest. I look down and realize I’m squeezing my arms so tightly that it’s pushed my breasts to the upper edge of my dress and I snort, elbowing herin the side. I relax my posture as much as I can without freezing entirely.

“I’m sure my brother doesn’t mind the view,” she whispers in my ear and I laugh even harder as I glance past her at her brother. He’s one of the warriors set to participate in the games and he isn’t looking at me at all — he’s never noticed me much, which doesn’t bother me in the slightest — but right now I feel nervous for him. I want him to do well in the games, not just for him but for Ebanora and her entire family. Though she and I are separated by status and three years, she’s the only thing close to a friend I’ve ever had. They are poor farmers. Her brother being selected as a warrior trainee by the king would elevate their status considerably.

I smile back at her cautiously and when she snickers audibly, I tense. A hard glare is cast over a broad shoulder. Tori is our prized village warrior, slated to be chosen this year. If he is, I don’t doubt he will choose me for his prize — his future wife, be damned. Each of the chosen warriors are allowed whatever pleasures they like on the eve of their selection. The only reason he has not had me yet is because our chief — more accurately, the chief’s wife Rosalind — knows of Tori’s desire for me and has held it over his head as a motivation to keep him in line.

I don’t wish to lose my virginity to Tori, especially not after the threats he made against me last night. I was grateful to the large stranger that intervened…at the time. But in the light of the morning, I worry about Tori’s retaliation. It will be against me, given that the stranger is likely gone now, and it will be terrible. That’s all I can think as his hard stare turns to a wicked smile. His gaze drops down to my chest and he runs his tongue over his white teeth.

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