Page 5 of Merciful Salvation

“I’ll collect the horses.” Aaron walked away, fisting his hands. Before his conversion, he would have struck a man for displaying such open disrespect. Although he knew how to control his anger now, there were moments he desperately wanted to revert back to his old ways.

Yet he couldn’t if he wished the jarl to peacefully donate men to the king’s service.

Chapter Three

Fool

Kara didn’t havethe will or strength to move after the skirmish. Her arms and legs ached from the fight. She’d never expected to draw blood—to actually kill someone. But she had. And the shock of it overwhelmed her. And once she saw that monstrosity of a man who appeared from nowhere to aid them, her heart stuttered. Something about his beastly gray eyes made her tremble. He looked every bit the man she’d dreamt of.The one who could steal her heart.Tall and powerful—she admired his rugged features.

As if Odin touched her legs, she found the power to run away. She arrived at her house sweaty and breathless, stumbling up the stairs to the front doors. Guests had arrived yesterday and her father was busy entertaining. She eyed the blood on her armor. In order to get upstairs unnoticed, she needed to slip by a double archway that opened to the great hall. Sneaking inside, she turned her back so no one would recognize her.

Her father’s booming voice stopped her short.

“Daughter . . .”

She ignored him and hurried up a few stairs.

“Are you hurt?”

She stopped and turned slowly to face him. His blue eyes widened when he realized her condition. She cringed under his scathing look. This wasn’t what she’d wanted. She opened her mouth to speak, butcouldn’t—her sire resembled a devil at the moment.

“Where is your brother and Marteinn?” he asked. “How far behind are they?” He grabbed her by the arms and gave her a firm shake. “Speak girl or so help me.”

She finally found her voice. “We were attacked.”

“By whom?” he demanded. “What happened?”

Almost before she’d ended her story, her father growled orders to his guards. “Fifteen of you ride to the forest and recover my son and the men who assisted him.Now.” The highest ranking warrior nodded, then rushed outside. Her sire wrapped his arm consolingly about her waist. “Come with me to the hall. Bring wine,” he bellowed as they entered.

A thrall immediately appeared and guided Kara to a chair. Before she sat down, she stripped off her armor, dropping it on the stone floor. Grateful to be home, she held the cup the slave set down in front of her with both hands, then guzzled the wine. Prone to eating when nervous, she claimed a hunk of bread off a nearby tray and ate ravenously. After, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Surprised by her sire’s unexpected, deep-bellied laughter, her gaze flitted around the high table. His guests appeared equally amused.

“Have I offended you, sir?” Heat rose in her cheeks, what had she done?

“By Odin’s eye,” her sire swore. “I’ve raisedthreesons.”

Her brows knit. Taken aback by his words, she shakily poured herself a second measure of wine. Her father’s less than favorable opinion of her put her on the defensive. “I’ve done everything you’ve expected of me, milord.”

He eyed her severely, his smile fading. “I was just boasting to these good men how beautiful my daughter is. Look at you. You’ve embarrassed me, child.”

She lifted her chin. She wore armor and carried a sword because her father demanded it. He’d never admit it in front of hisdistinguished guests. “I don’t gallivant around wearing braies and weapons every day,” she defended herself.

“Only because I forbid it,” he countered. “Seeing you now shows me what an injustice I’ve done you. I’ve poorly prepared you for your future. You lack the refinement and elegance most girls half your age possess.”

“Haven’t I proven time and again I can play the role of the jarl’sperfect daughter when it’s expected of me?”

His criticism stung. Ever obedient, she learned to read and write and fight alongside her brothers. Could he fault her for preferring climbing trees over dancing? Reading over embroidery? She enjoyed drying herbs; didn’t that count as cooking?

“Go upstairs and prepare to greet our guests properly,” her father instructed.

She needed a bath. Surely the stable smelled better than she did. “Yes, father.” She stood, then bowed.

Her father coughed. “Bowing as a man only proves my point.” The five men at the table laughed.

Humiliated, she huffed out an apology, curtsied, and ran out of the room.

A half hour after the battle, Aaron followed Marteinn through the front doors of Erik the Bald’s modestly sized keep. Although the great hall was smaller than most, the jarl’swealth showed in the finery he decorated it with. Tapestries and furs were abundant. On the east-facing wall, small niches were carved into the stone. Each hollow contained a miniature marble statue of the gods.

A large hearth with a marble mantle graced the north wall. Two silver battle axes, crossed at the center, hung above the fireplace. Left of the hearth, covering the wall from ceiling to floor, was the largest bear skin he’d ever seen. He’d enjoy hearing the tale behind that prized pelt. To the right of the mantle, an ornate looking glass, edged with silver and amber, hung on wall. Three long trestle tables werearranged in the center of the room. A hundred men could dine comfortably there. Erik the Bald enjoyed luxury.