her alone in my room—our room.
Making my way toward my men, I’m not surprised to see Gunnar and Hagen ready for duty. Handing Gunnar the letter, I explain to him that it is meant for Liv’s sister Sybilla if his man should cross her path or hear of her.
Shifting my gaze to Hagen, I explain to him that he’ll be solely in charge of Liv’s safety until Gunnar returns, then together, they will man her and keep her safe. I don’t let them speak in return, turning from them, I head toward the kitchens to grab some bread.
Last night, I informed the kitchen maids of the wedding. They are fervently working on the preparations. Smiling, my gaze flicks around at all of the fantastic dishes that they are preparing for the feast.
Shoving some bread in my mouth, I make my way outside. My gaze flicks to Fiske’s small home and I’m not surprised to see him standing outside, his back leaning against the outer wall. He is an early riser, such as I am.
Making my way toward him, I pause for a moment when I see Isolda step out. She’s wearing nothing but her sleeping gown, her body exposed as the sun shines down on her. Fiske turns to her, his gaze focused on me as he reaches for her breast and grabs it roughly.
“Bródir,” I growl as I continue to approach.
He mutters something to Isolda, slaps her ass, and she hurries inside. “I should thank you for the bed slave, bródir,” he says with a giant grin. “She has been trained well.”
Letting out a curse, I don’t tell him that he’s being a bacraut. If I show him any kind of response, he will behave even worse. Instead, I shrug a shoulder, ignoring him as best as I can. “Where are Sylvi and Oili?”
Fiske shrugs a shoulder. “Don’t know. How was your woman?”
“The celebration is tonight,” I say as my answer.
He spits on the ground, then lifts his gaze up to meet mine. “I will be there, bródir. I was upset yesterday, but I am happy for you. You are the oldest, Tait already has a wife and children. You should have been married long ago, especially as our konungr.”
I thank him and we shake hands. Though, I honestly do not feel as if he is being truthful with his words. I will take them at face value as he has given them to me, until he does or says something that goes against them.
LIV
That asshole.
That archaic, barbaric asshole.
Pressing my lips together, I try not to cry. He thinks I’m too old. I know that he has to be at least a few years older than me, based on the slight gray in his beard alone. The difference? I think it’s sexy. He thinks my body won’t be able to give him the children he wants. And children are apparently the most important thing in the world to him.
Dickhead.
I have news for him, I’m going to figure out a way to get back home so he won’t have to worry about me and my old lady ovaries for another fucking second.
The door opens and I’m met with Runa and Hillevi. Thankfully, they aren’t slaves, unthankfully, they look like they are being forced to act as them and aren’t happy about it.
“You don’t have to help me,” I whisper.
Runa’s lips turn up into a small smile at the same time the seeress smirks. “We do, our new dróttning,” Hillevi practically purrs. “Our konungr has informed us that you do not desire the help of slaves, so he has tasked us to aid you.”
“I don’t need anyone’s help. I know you have other things to do, the last thing you need to do is serve me,” I mutter.
There’s a moment of silence, and then Runa shakes her head. “You will be our dróttning. It is our pleasure.”
“Please, just call me Liv,” I plead.
They both nod their heads once, then two boys come into the room carrying a bathing bucket that is double the size of the one I used yesterday. My eyes widen at the sight and the seeress laughs softly.
“It is good to be queen, yes?” she asks.
“At least when it comes to a bathtub it is,” I murmur.
I don’t miss the inquisitive looks that the seeress and Runa share, but I don’t comment on them either. Once the boys leave, I help the women carry kettles of warm water to the tub and pour it in. They show me