Page 12 of Hungry Like a Wolf
Carmel shook her head and pointed to her eye. “He wore a patch here. He swore he had told the king nothing of import and instead came straight to us to tell us my father had been usurped.”
Anna huffed. “I am sure he was well rewarded for his loyalty to King Athol. Though wanderers care only for themselves, despite what yarns they spin.”
Carmel agreed; that had always been her experience.
A sudden bang and gush of leaf-strewn wind announced the arrival of the King Haakon, his men, and his brother. Behind Ravn was a gaggle of weary seafarers with wide curious eyes and bedraggled clothing and beards.
“These men are hungry!” Haakon shouted. “Ensure the feast is plentiful and the ale flows as though Aegir himself were partying with us.” He took a seat on the big chair, his wife sitting next to him.
Even though she had not been queen long, Kenna had a regal tilt to her chin and her eyes sparkled with intelligence. She was studying the king’s brother Ravn with intense curiosity. When a small barn owl flew from the rafters and sat on a perch close to her shoulder, she took no notice, such was her interest.
“You have finally taken a wife,” Ravn said, holding up a horn of wine as though toasting Kenna.
“She is the only woman for me,” said Haakon, his eyes growing soft. “The gods mapped out our destiny many years ago and I should thank you for sending me to her.”
“Thank me?” Ravn sat on a bench, legs wide, one elbow on a table just behind him and looking very much as though he were settling in for a long conversation.
“Ja.” Haakon narrowed his eyes. “If you had not become consumed in your quest for power, brother. If you had not tried to kill me with a dagger through my heart, I would never have traveled west that day. I would never have washed up on these shores and stared up into the face of a goddess.”
Ravn shifted his weight and took a drink.
“My very own living Valkyrie.” Haakon took Kenna’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “More beautiful than I could ever have dreamed of.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Queen Kenna,” Ravn said.
“You tried to kill my husband. I never thought I would meet you.” She held his eye contact and bit on her bottom lip. “I’m not sure how I feel about you on our lands, in our home.”
“But Ididn’tkill him,” Ravn said. “I could have, but I was merciful.”
“Only because Father intervened.” Orm took a mug of ale from Carmel and used it to point at Ravn. “You had murder in your eyes. You wanted the spill of blood.”
“I believed it was the gods’ will,” Ravn said. “Now I understand that it was not.”
“How?” Astrid sat on Hamish’s lap and looped an arm around his neck. “How do you know that now?”
“Ah.” Ravn tapped the side of his nose. “You, dear sister, helped me with that.”
She frowned. “I wasn’t even there.”
“But you had been. On that last day in Uppsalla, you read my runestones, remember?”
She tilted her head. “Go on.”
“And you threw Laguz for me.”
She didn’t reply.
Ravn leaned forward and tugged at one of the beads plaited into his beard. He had the exact same profile as his brother. Heavy brow; long, strong nose; and neck thick with muscle. But there was something wilder about him. Maybe it was because he was, in theory, amongst enemies, family enemies, but still, it certainly sounded like the last time the siblings had been together, tensions had been running high.
“The water rune,” Ravn went on, “showing me a reflection of myself. I liked what I saw because I saw a king, a man of great power, a husband, and a father to a son who would become my heir.”
“Why did the meaning of Laguz change for you?” Hamish asked. “It sounds to me it was reversed.”
“What do you know of runestones, Christian?” one of Ravn’s men snapped as he squared his shoulders.
Hamish shrugged and held the man’s gaze. “I have learned.”
“Laguz prompted you to look into the darkness of your unconscious,” Astrid nodded. “Deep into the shadows.”
