for some time to come.
She sat in the tree until just before dawn, as if she waited for him, but he did not show himself. Instead he stayed, crouched beside the wall, holding his vigil until she slid back along the heavy branch and returned to her chamber, barring the window behind her.
“Have I made you angry, my blind warrior? Are you sulking because I have attempted to trade you for the Songr?” Gudrun became affectionate and magnanimous when he thought he had won. He was eating like he’d just been through battle, slurping up the grease on a platter of lamb with great hunks of bread, one of which he tossed to Hod. He’d insisted Hod join him for breakfast, but Hod didn’t eat with Gudrun for the same reason he didn’t sit among his men. He needed his hands free and his senses sharp. He would break his fast when Gudrun left the table.
He doubted the North King had slept. The sun had not yet begun to warm the air, and the mist from the water sat thick on the ground, muting the early morning chatter of the birds and the movement of Gudrun’s men in and out of the chateau and back and forth to the docks. They were preparing to sail. A settlement had been reached.
“I am not angry. I simply do not understand your strategy, Sire,” Hod responded, voice even.
“I met with King Banruud last night. After the feast. Where were you?” Gudrun’s tone changed, suspicion tinging his words. “I sent men to fetch you, but you had disappeared. You could have witnessed the drafting of a momentous agreement.”
“I was sitting in a tree, listening to a woman sing.”
Gudrun snorted, but the pathetic confession seemed to reassure him. “He will not give me the Songr.”
“Imagine my surprise.”
“Ahh. You are angry.” Gudrun tsked as he hacked off a large piece of lamb and fed it to his teeth.
“I don’t understand your play,” Hod said again.
Gudrun washed his mouthful down with loud gulps of ale and wiped his fingers on his trousers.
“You said he would not want to part with the woman. You were right. I simply wanted to make King Banruud feel as though he’d won and I’d relented. It made negotiations much easier later on. And it provided an opportunity to put your skills on display.”
“My skills,” Hod said, voice flat.
“I want to make your father love you, don’t you see? I am repairing a bond.” His tone was mischievous, and Hod heard his grin. When he did not elucidate but began preparing another bite, Hod prodded him, just as Gudrun expected him to.
“He does not know he is my father, Sire, and there is no bond to repair,” Hod said.
“He does. I have told him,” Gudrun said, swallowing.
“What purpose does that serve?” Hod whispered. He was not surprised. Gudrun used every weapon at his disposal, and Hod had supplied him with it, long ago. It had provided him with a story any man could understand: the blind, bastard son of a king seeks revenge on those who rejected him. It was only a matter of time before Gudrun wielded the information against him.
“It serves my purposes, Hod.” Gudrun thumped his chest to emphasize his words. The action made him belch, and he laughed again. He was in fine spirits this morning.
“I have agreed to bed—er, wed—the daughter.” Gudrun laughed at his wordplay. “In exchange I have promised to be a very good North King and stay in my own lands. The Northlands will not attack Saylok, and Saylok will not raid the Northlands. It’s all very civilized and familial. We will set sail today, and I will return next month to retrieve my bride.”
“Retrieve your bride . . . where?”
“I’ve been invited to Temple Hill.” Gudrun spread his arms and sat back in his chair, making the rungs groan against his girth. “To the castle of the King of Saylok. The mighty Banruud wants to show his people that he has tamed the North King and saved the clans from being overrun by Northmen.”
“I see.”
“You will not be sailing with us, Hod,” Gudrun added.
Hod waited, tensed.
“You will go with Banruud to his hill. I have convinced him I must have a man I trust on the mount to prepare for my arrival and to ensure that no treachery is afoot. If he kills you, he can’t very well expect me to hold to my end of the bargain.”
“You do not intend to hold to