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Lord of Falcon Ridge (Viking Era 4)

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“I hope the Saxons may serve Ragnor’s head up on a platter, just like those boar steaks.”

Kerek looked pained, but he said nothing more. He bid her good night at the door of her chamber, then spoke quietly to the two guards who were outside.

Chessa settled in the box bed, pulled a soft fox fur to her chin, and prepared to think. “Ingurd? Are you still here? You may leave me now.”

The young girl was standing there twisting her hands together. “But Kerek said I wasn’t to leave you. He said I was to be reverent but I was to stay as close as a shadow. He even said that I—”

“Very well, where will you sleep? No, not on the floor. Have a guard bring you a pallet.”

Ingurd’s mouth gaped. A pallet, something soft between her and the floor. She couldn’t begin to imagine such a thing. But her new mistress was a princess, after all. She supposed that anyone so blessed by the gods could give orders as they pleased. When she eased down on the pallet, the first soft bed she’d known in her short life, she decided the princess wasn’t a bitch as she’d heard Prince Ragnor screaming at Kerek.

Chessa moved just a bit, feeling the other knife she’d wrapped into a bathing cloth and tucked beneath her pillow. On the morrow, she would somehow fasten it to her leg.

She pictured Cleve in her mind, his clothes ragged and filthy, his golden hair matted to his head, a scraggly golden beard covering his lean cheeks. He’d smelled very bad. She’d believed him more beautiful than the last time she’d seen him on Hawkfell Island.

She’d decided on the voyage to York that if she found him alive, she would do whatever she must to make him her husband. She decided he shouldn’t have to live his life without her. He simply didn’t realize yet just how lucky he was.

Now she was the one held captive. She had to stop thinking about Cleve and how she would make him happier than he probably deserved. She had to come up with a plan.

She fell asleep with Cleve’s face in her mind. At least Kiri would be all right now. She was with her first papa.

14

THERE WERE THREE guards standing in front of the queen’s chamber. Chessa nodded to them, then waited for one of them to open the door. Once she was well inside, the door was again closed.

The queen had sent for her. Chessa had wanted to come, for the queen’s behavior the previous night had fascinated her, but now that she was here, as commanded, there wasn’t anyone in the large bright chamber. She’d never before seen a chamber so clean, the walls whitewashed so utterly white. There were no smudges, no hints of any dirt at all. There was a small box bed, one chair, a brazier, and a huge trunk sitting at the end of the bed. Nothing else. There were three windows and a narrow door at the back of the chamber. Chessa walked to the door and opened it. It gave onto a small garden closed in by high walls. It was immaculately kept. There were flowers in bloom everywhere. She recognized daffodils and daisies, foxglove, and hyacinth. The water lilies by the small pond in the center of the garden were the most exquisite Chessa had ever seen, white as snowfall in the wilderness, the leaves and pads so green they looked painted. The high stone walls were weathered a soft gray and covered with ivy, pear vines and wild strawberries.

It was a beautiful place. A serene place. A retreat, a sanctuary. Chessa breathed in a deep breath of the warm morning air.

“You slept well?”

She turned to see the queen, now rising, holding a brilliant red rose.

“Nay, how could I? I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

“You wish to return to Dublin?”

She shook her head. “My home is with a man named Cleve. Wherever he is, that’s where I want to be.”

The queen narrowed her eyes against the sun, then motioned Chessa to follow her. In the corner of the garden was a stone bench. Above it was an old pear tree, big limbed and thick.

The queen held a rose toward her. “Smell the rose. Isn’t it magnificent?”

She drew in the scent deeply. “It smells like sweet velvet. I have never seen such a color. More red than mere red. No, it’s not a simple red at all.”

The queen smiled. “I produced it myself. Ah, you don’t understand. That’s all right, none really do, including myself. I try and try and sometimes I succeed. I partially split the seeds of one rose and force it together with the seeds of another color rose or even another variety entirely. This was the result of one of my endeavors.”

“That’s remarkable. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“As I said, few have. Now you’re looking at me as if I have two heads.”

“I was wondering where the woman was I met last night. You certainly aren’t she.”

“Ah, but I am, Princess. I am many women. I have to be to survive.”

“Please just call me Chessa. I’m no princess. I wish your husband would realize that and let me go.”

“Chessa, then. He won’t let you go. The woman you met last night, did you believe her to be what you saw?”



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