not sleep among them . . . and he rarely sat. In the beginning, the Northmen had amused themselves by throwing things at him, trying to catch him unaware. He’d sustained more cuts and bruises that way than from all the fists and fights put together. He’d learned it was best not to ever let down his guard. So he didn’t sit, and after a particularly brutal barrage, he’d begun to carry a shield strapped to his shoulders. He could ward off a great deal with his staff, but it was nice to have something always at his back.
“I wish to speak with you, King Gudrun. Alone, if I may,” he added.
The others grumbled, but the king made a curious noise and rose, leading Hod from the room to the chamber he’d taken for himself. It was not nearly so filthy, and the breeze from the sea wafted through an open window. Hod breathed more freely, but his anxiety did not relent. Circumstances had forced his hand.
Gudrun threw himself into a chair and rested his heavy feet on the desk positioned beside it. It was a lovely piece of work with smoothed edges and an intricately inlaid map of Saylok. Hod had explored each inch with the pads of his fingers when Gudrun demanded a refresher on the clans. He’d wanted to know every chieftain and every keep, every cove and every climb. And he’d wanted to hear all about the temple.
He did not bother to insist Hod have a seat but launched into his own update.
“The King of Saylok has brought women with him. He thinks he will give them to me and I will leave,” Gudrun said.
“Yes. I know. The Bernians who were gathered to see the arrival hope there will be a betrothal. They are very proud of their princess and the daughters of the temple.”
“Banruud does not realize I do not need—or want—his women. I want his throne. I want Saylok. And I am going to take it.”
Hod nodded. None of this was news to him. He knew precisely what Gudrun wanted and exactly why they’d come to Berne. The Northlands had suffered their own plague. They’d lost entire populations. Men, women, children. Villages. The sickness that had taken Ghisla’s family had taken many. Fields lay fallow, animals wandered free, and Gudrun had taken to the seas to plunder the riches of other lands to fill his empty coffers. Saylok, with all its troubles and inner tribulation, was prime for the taking. And Gudrun could have it. Hod had convinced himself Saylok might even be better off if it was overrun. But the North King could not have Ghisla.
“I want the woman,” Hod said. He could not see Gudrun’s face, but Hod could still hear his stunned response.
“What?”
“I want the woman,” Hod repeated.
Gudrun barked in disbelief. “You want the woman? Which one?”
“The one they call Liis of Leok.”
“The small one. The unsmiling one,” Gudrun said slowly. “The plain one.”
Hod nodded, not bothering to correct the description. Gudrun liked to twist the knife and invoke a reaction. It was the risk Hod took in telling him the truth. Gudrun valued Hod, but he was ruthless too, and he would not hesitate to exploit Hod’s desires to achieve his own ends. In fact, Hod was counting on it.
“You have not wanted a woman in the six years I have known you, Hod,” Gudrun argued. “I thought you committed to your solitude and your stick. You are hung like a man . . . but you do not act like one.”
“I have not wanted a woman . . . because . . . of her.”
“Because of her?” Gudrun was incredulous. “Liis of Leok?”
“Because of her,” Hod said again.
“You know her.” It was not a question but a realization.
“Yes.” Hod took a deep breath, praying his instincts were right. “And she is not of Leok. She is a Songr.”
Gudrun stiffened in surprise. “There are no Songrs left.”
“There is at least . . . one.”
“How do you know this?”
“Her family died from the plague that swept your land. She was left alive . . . in Tonlis. She had nowhere to go. She boarded a ship, was tossed overboard in a storm, and washed up onto the shore . . . where you found me.”
Gudrun’s big boots hit the floor, like he’d straightened abruptly. But he said nothing. His heartbeat had quickened, and his gaze was sticky on Hod’s face. He was listening.
“My master took her to Leok. And she was