Page 80 of Hungry Like a Wolf
She peered forward. It was definitely Orm. She recognized his tall, lean body and long, dark hair.
Orm then dragged at his tunic, pulled it off, and stepped high on the prow. In one smooth dive he entered the water with barely a splash.
He swam like a seal, slick and fast, and within a minute was striding out of the water, pushing his hair back from his kohl-streaked face. Water clung to his trousers and dripped down his bare torso.
Ravn rushed to meet him.
“Why are you here?” Ravn asked, embracing his brother. “It is good to see you.”
“That is unexpected welcome.” Orm slapped Ravn on the shoulder and raised his eyebrows.
“I am in a good mood.” Ravn laughed.
“And not in your kingdom.” Orm looked around with his arm draped over Ravn’s shoulder. “We haven’t been here for years.”
“Carmel wished some sea air.” Ravn gestured to Carmel.
Orm appeared to notice her for the first time. He walked closer, the sun sparkling off his wet skin. “Carmel? Your thrall, brother? Our prisoner?”
“Ja. Carmel.”
“Orm,” Carmel said, not getting up and giving him a curt nod.
“Well, it is good to see you too.” Orm rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Because you can get to work and prepare my brother, the king, and me a drink to celebrate being reunited in our homeland.”
“I don’t think so.” Ravn scowled.
Carmel held her hand up. When she spoke, it was in Orm’s own tongue. “I am pleased you have had a safe journey, brother-by-law, but you will address me as ‘Your Grace’ from this moment on. And it isyouwho will fetch the mead from the pit house.”
Orm’s mouth hung open and he rubbed his eyes. He stared at Carmel then turned to his brother. “What is she saying?”
“You heard,” Ravn said, stepping up to Carmel and taking her hand. He kissed her knuckles. “Carmel is my wife, whichmakes her Queen of Drangar. You will address her appropriately if you and I are to remain friends.”
“You married the slave?” Orm’s eyes were wide as he shook his head. “And I thought you took her to protect Tillicoulty and—”
“It doesn’t matter what you thought, Orm, because you forgot one important point. Carmel is a princess by birth. She has royal blood and is a fine leader, huntress, and councilor at my side in Drangar.”
“But she is a prisoner, a thrall, and a Christian at that. She cannot rule Drangar. It is not—”
His words were cut short as Ravn drew his blade and angled it at Orm. The tip was dangerously close to the dip of his throat. “The way you speak is treason. Be careful, brother. Be very careful.”
Orm stepped back, sighed, then turned and kicked a stone down to the shoreline. As it splashed into the fizz of the waves, his frustration seemed to go with it. He turned with a grin. “To the King and Queen of Drangar.” He held up his hand as though raising a horn of mead.
Ravn exhaled and re-sheathed his sword. He held Carmel’s eye contact for a moment.
She smiled at him, glad to see the tension slipping from his shoulders. Orm wasn’t her favorite person in the world, not by a long shot, but as a good Christian, she would practice tolerance and maybe even forgiveness for the sake of her husband.
“Who is on the boat with you?” she asked Orm as he helped himself to a handful of nuts from a bowl.
“A small crew. And…” He waggled his eyebrows. “My wife.”
“Your wife?” Ravn spun to look out at the figures on the boat.
“Anna?” Carmel asked.
“Ja, beautiful Anna. She is my wife.” Orm pressed his hands over his heart. “She took me as her husband when I thought noone ever would. I am… How would you say…” He spun his finger by his temple. “An acquired taste.”
He certainly was that.
