The Barbarian's Stolen Bride (Northmen Barbarians 1)

Young women were bartered like nothing but a commodity to strengthen alliances and bring families together. And never did the ones in power think about us and what we wanted for ourselves.

“You are nineteen now, old enough that you should have been wed already and with child.” He looked over his shoulder at the fire. “I promised your father I’d keep watch until you were grown. You’ve been grown for some time. It’s not my duty any longer.” He looked at me then, the coldness I was so familiar with back in his face. “I have kept my honor in this regard.” A lengthy pause pressed between us. “And the Destroyer will not be denied. Surely you know that.” He narrowed his eyes at me like he saw me as a fool to think there was any way around this.

“Why now? Why not sell me off before last winter when I was of age?” I twisted my hands in the pelt that covered my shoulders.

For a moment Teron said nothing, maybe trying to decide his words. “He wanted you for himself and specified when he wished for you to be delivered. It’s clear he sees something in you… desirable,” he sneered as he glared at me.

My heart stalled, then raced at those words. I didn't know why Teron hated me so, but I’d moved on from the hurt and wonder, not wasting energy on why he did anything.

“Who do you think provided the meats and furs all these winters?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Who do you think made sure we never wanted for anything, Prima?”

My mouth dried as I thought of his words, and it all settled into place. I really was a fool to not have seen what was going on. The dried meats and preserved fruits that sustained us for the last two winters weren’t from who Teron originally said—someone indebted to him.

The thick fur pelts, the fabrics for clothing, all the clean water and bundles of wood to heat our hut… all of that had been from him.

The Destroyer.

They were gifts to keep a promised—sold off—wife fed and safe. They were a dowry.

I wondered what Teron had gotten himself, though? Coin to line his pockets? A harem of women to warm his furs? I didn’t care enough to ask.

I looked down at my hands, my fingers curled tightly around the fur—the fur my body had bought, yet I hadn’t even known it.

Aside from that one time all those winters before, when Fenrir the Destroyer had become king, I’d never looked upon his face, never seen those ice-blue eyes full-on. I’d seen him many times riding through the village on his massive white steed, but I’d kept my distance, stayed hidden in the shadows.

It was better that way, because I realized there was something about the Destroyer that made me frightened in a way that didn’t have anything to do with him harming me, and everything to do with the instant fascination I felt toward him.

“Why me?” I whispered again, meaning to keep those words to myself, locked deep in my mind. When I realized they were out in the open, spoken aloud for Teron to hear, my cheeks flamed, and I glanced away.

“I asked myself the same thing. Many times.”

I snapped my head in his direction, and without realizing I’d done it, I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips. He must have sensed my hatred for him right then, because his eyes widened and his nostrils flared, almost as if I’d slapped him.

Never had I openly glared at him. I’d always kept to myself, my head down, did my daily chores, worked with the village seamstress, and minded my business. I was gentle and meek Prima. Never raising my voice. Never standing out.

But not now. Not as Teron betrayed me.

Or maybe I’d finally been saved.

“Watch it, girl,” he sneered. “Remember that without me you’d be long dead and rotted in the ground. I fed you, clothed you, made sure you weren’t a dirty rat living with the others in the gutter.”

I heard the venom in his voice, and for the first time in my life, I wondered what my father had held over Teron for him to promise to watch over me. I’d always thought he was too superstitious, too worried the gods would forsake him if he didn’t uphold his vow… but maybe I’d been wrong.

I have to be wrong, because he’s never been kind, never looked upon me as if he cared for my father as a friend, like a brother, and wanted to do right by him.

“Why? Why did you watch over me?” I asked, feeling brave for maybe the first time in my life. He wouldn’t hurt me, couldn’t, not if the Destroyer had placed his claim on me.

And he knew this.