Page 9 of Mastered By the Viking King

“Princess Hilda of Kaldaross. It’s her.”

“She wants to be our queen?”

“The king will surely pick her. She’s beautiful.”

Tove’s heart skipped a beat. What in Odin’s name was she, Tove, doing here? Her competition was a beautiful, rich princess. Likely more would arrive over the course of the day, Earls’ and Jarls’ daughters, too. And goddesses.

I don’t want to get picked anyway.

That thought steadied her heart. It was true. She had no wish to be married to a big brute of a king. So, if her competition outshone her from beauty to treasure then that was good. She could stand in judgment, keep her mouth closed, then go home. She’d be more skilled at hunting this winter, and make her mother proud. And if she worked for a few days in Halsgrof she could also take chickens and grain home.

The horn quieted as the boat pulled in, the princess’s male servants jumping onto the pier to secure the vessel to its moorings. Sat on a raised wooden chair in the center of the boat, Princess Hilda didn’t move. Instead, she sat wrapped in a silvery wolf pelt, its hood drawn up, and surveyed the people of Halsgrof.

Her eyes were narrow, her lips as crimson as a burst berry, wisps of dark hair peeking out from the hood. A large golden brooch set with red stones adorned her fur.

“Welcome, welcome.” A short man in a blue tunic rushed up the pier, the crowd parting for him. “It is a great honor to have you here, Princess Hilda! Please, let me, Halfdan, aid to the king, be your host and take you and your maids to a place of warmth and rest after your journey.”

“Aye, you can do that.” The princess stood.

Three maids hurried to help her alight from the boat.

Once on the pier she pushed back her hood, and the weak light from the winter sun shone on her raven black hair. With her chin raised she slowly looked around. “People of Halsgrof, I am Princess Hilda of Kaldaross, and I have come here to be your queen. When King Njal and I are wed you will bow to me, honor me, and give your meager lives to me if I so request.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd.

“You may start now.” She held up her hand and clicked her fingers. “Bow.”

“She’s not our queen,” a woman to Tove’s right muttered.

“She hasn’t been chosen by King Njal.”

“But she will be. How can he resist?”

“She’s a siren.”

“I’m not bowing to her.”

“Me neither.”

“I said bow!” Princess Hilda shouted.

A few people nearest to her bobbed a few inches down. Tove didn’t, and neither did the men and women around her.

“You are unruly peasants. When I’m queen you will obey me.” The princess turned to one of her maids. “This King Njal needs direction if his people are so obstinate and rude.”

“Aye, m’lady.”

“In fact, what he needs is a backbone—and I will give it to him.” With a flourish she swept through the gathering, lips pursed, fur floating along behind her.

“Queen over my dead body,” a deep, grating voice muttered behind Tove.

Tove spun around. But she couldn’t see exactly who had spoken. A tall man was walking away, broad shoulders swinging beneath a dark brown fur, his boots crunching on the icy ground. His hood was pulled up, flecks of snow sparkling upon it, and his fists were clenched.

Tove’s emotions rushed through her, the voices and jostling pulling at her nerves. She needed to find Wanda, and get this over and done with. Then see if she could get a few days’ work to trade for supplies.

She looked up at the sky. Daylight was fading, and pregnant clouds were collecting overhead. If she stayed in Halsgrof too long the pass would be blocked by snow, and she wouldn’t get back to her mother until spring.

The crowd was dispersing, and she spotted a red flag flapping in the stiff, ever increasing wind.

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