Page 48 of Mastered By the Viking King

Sune’s brow creased. “The weather has turned. Winter is upon us.”

“Winter will not stop me searching for my younger brother.” Njal banged his chest. “It is my duty to him, and to our dead father and mother.”

“Aye, I agree, but…” Sune stared out at the slate-gray fjord. Wind whipped over its surface, creating small, dancing twisters that sparkled with snow.

“But nothing.” Irritation laced Njal’s tone. “Indeed, when will the anchor be ready?”

“In two days, my king.”

“Good, then it is settled.” He leaped up to the front masthead and circled it with one arm. He hung outward over the water. “My people, my warriors! In two days, we will travel west to search for Leif and his men. They should have returned to Halsgrof during the last moon. It is our duty to find them.”

There was a moment of suspended silence, as if time itself had been frozen, while the king’s words settled on the crowd. Then a huge cheer went up. Warriors slapped each other on the back, the excitement of travel drawing whoops of delight. A horn sounded, dogs barked, and Njal punched the air, the fur on his cloak shivering in the wind. “May the gods be with us!”

Tove buried her hands in her clothing, searching for warmth. Her father would never have ventured out in such seas, but his boat had been a lowly fisher boat that sprang leaks often. Nothing like this royal vessel.

She looked at Sune. Unlike the other faces on the crowded pier, he wasn’t smiling. Instead, he appeared worried.

“Tonight, people of Halsgrof,” Njal called out, “we will feast. I wish my warriors to be well fed and rested before the journey.”

Another cheer boomed through the crowd.

Njal jumped down and scooped Tove into his arms, spinning her around beneath the mast. “I feel better already. I have made a decision to find Leif. And I will.”

She gripped his shoulders. “I believe you. You are a mighty king and a brave seafarer.”

He caught her mouth in a kiss, his tongue sneaking in.

She closed her eyes and sighed. No matter how cold it was beside the fjord, if she was in his arms she was warm.

But that didn’t stop a small chill of dread going through her heart. If Leif had set sail and not returned, the same fate could befall her husband. How would she live without him? How could she even breathe if not at his side?

* * *

When the sky was thick with stars and the snow had finally stopped falling, the feast began.

The long tables were stacked with fruits, pickles, smoked fish, and bread. Four goats had been butchered, their meat cooking over wide grates amid dancing flames. Mead flowed into horns, and the villagers jostled and laughed, dragging chairs and benches around so they could sit and conduct loud, raucous conversations.

Tove sat beside Njal on her throne. Knud and Frode were on small stools between them, eating and discussing the sagas of the gods.

A plate of food had been passed to her, and she nibbled at it, enjoying the different flavors. It was a still a novelty to be without a painfully empty belly, though one hunger had been replaced by another.

Now, she hungered for her husband—his body, his kisses, his cock. They made love at sunset each day, then often again in the night. She looked forward to their sexing—he never left her unsatisfied—and when they were naked together, she loved having him buried deep inside her, until she had no other worries in the world.

A willow flute rang out, an older Viking warrior with a long gray beard whistling a loud and happy tune. The feasters clapped along, grinning even as they continued shoveling food into their mouths. A horn joined in the tune, several people stamping along with it.

“They are excited,” Njal said. “For the journey west.”

She nodded.

“What is the matter?” He frowned at her.

“It’s just…” She knew she should be strong; she was the queen, after all.

“Speak.”

“I am fearful for you.” She paused. “I cannot imagine a life without you.”

He chewed upon on a hunk of bread, tearing it with his teeth, then stood. “You will not have a life without me.”

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