Page 85 of Shared By the Vikings

Raud seemed to battle an internal war for a moment, then, “No hard feelings, Jarl Erik.”

“Good.” Tali rubbed his hands together. “That means you can come raiding with us. Another warrior will be good. We can carry more treasure.”

Chapter Eighteen

The monastery rosefrom a gentle green valley sprinkled with flowers the color of freshly churned butter. It sang out through the air, as if the bells were welcoming them.

Not that they would be welcome visitors.

Like her men, Ingrid wanted treasure to take back to her homeland and to her father in the hope it would appease him. It was a foolish race of people who kept such precious items but didn’t protect them. It would be like taking food from a baby.

“You stay with Tali, near the entrance,” Erik said. “I don’t want you more than a few footsteps away from him.”

“And always in his sight,” Gunnvar added.

“I know. I know.” She rolled her eyes. This was about the fourth time the men had given her the same instruction.

“Do as they say, Princess,” Raud said.

“Don’t you start, you know as well as Loki, Thor, and Freya do that I am a good shot with an arrow.” She tapped the bow slung over her chest.

“I do. And I’m proud of your skill. But we do not know for sure these will be simple Christians in here. They may have tricked us. It might be a trap.”

She was quiet, then, “Ja, you’re right. I will stay near Tali. He will protect me.”

“I will.” Tali took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “And I’ll be glad to have you looking out for me.”

“For all of us if necessary,” Erik said. “The arrow is a quick and efficient way to kill from a distance. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

“I’m not.” She frowned. “What would be the point in training to use it if I were afraid to?”

Erik muttered something she didn’t quite hear and stomped onward, shield held in front of his chest and glistening sword held in his right hand. He’d plaited his hair and wiped berry juice down his bare arms and his cheeks in battle symbols that would help protect him.

Ingrid had the same red marks on her face and her hair was held back with small sprigs of tough brown dune grass. She didn’t want it in her face while she was firing and the sea breeze had picked up over the course of the day.

Raud and Gunnvar were also bare-chested and holding shields and swords. The feathers in Gunnvar’s hair flickered in the wind as though alive and trying to take to the air. They marched in time, as though synchronizing their bodies ready for battle. Each wore a grim determined expression and she pitied anyone who tried to stop them taking what they wanted.

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