The Iron Princess (16 page)

“Happened upon you?” Lothair said snidely as he and Rikard followed her up the stairs. “I snatched you out of a mob hell-bent on raping you before they slit your pretty throat! Twice, to be accurate.”

“I had it under control, Lothair, as you well know!” She turned to face him in the corridor outside her chamber.

“What I
know
is you have the good sense of a lamb being led to the slaughter.” He gestured grandly, exaggerating his temper for the benefit of their audience.

“And you have the sense of a blockheaded mule! You panic every time I wield a sword. I will remind you once more, I have been trained extensively. Rikard, I pray you enlighten my idiot husband.”

“Skill! If drawing every villain in the land to your door is a skill, then aye, you are skilled indeed.” Lothair glared down his nose at her. It seemed a touch excessive to her for him to go so far in their charade.

“You have a lot of nerve, Lothair. You have no right to counsel me on villains when you willingly choose to mix company with them. Might I remind you of the troop of gluttonous, honorless men I found you socializing with in Bogolyubovo?”

“What right do I have? That would be my right as your husband! You will do well to heed my words the first time,
wife
. The next time you go waving around a sword, I will take you over my knee by way of husbandly counsel.” He snapped out the words. “I dare any man to tell me that is not my right to do so.” Lothair glared up at Rikard.

Rikard hovered over Lothair’s shoulder. She’d best not deprive him of his spectacle.

“Well . . . well I never—” Katia turned on her heels, whipping her hair and skirt after her, stomped into her chamber, and slammed the door on the pair of men.

***

Rikard studied his boots. “I expect it will take her some time to simmer down. A long ride often works. I’ll inspect the contract when we reach Lubeck. I . . .” He looked guilty. “I warned her father that training a rambunctious little thing like her was a mistake, but she got her way in the end, and this is the result.”

“I will add that to the list of complaints to take up with the jarl,” Lothair said.

“I expect you will have a few more to add to the list before we reach Tronscar. You haven’t seen her sail yet, have you?” Rikard cringed.

“What’s wrong with the way she sails?”

“Better you see for yourself. Our ships moor off Lubeck.” Rikard retreated back down the hall. Apparently, nothing proved the legitimacy of wedded bliss more than a display of marital discord.

Lothair shook his head and opened the door to Katia’s chamber.

“Lothair.” Katia rushed into his arms. “That was brilliant! Your silly argument worked perfectly to distract him.”
Silly argument? Distract him?
What the devil was she on about now?

She clutched in tighter and spoke into the hollow of his neck. Her hair smelled clean, of the crisp apple soap she had purchased in the last village. He pulled her full length up against him and he grew painfully uncomfortable in an instant. Her small body was warm and soft and reassuring.

“I am sorry for calling you my husband.” She mumbled, her lips pressing against his skin. “I was so concerned that Rikard and his men would fight you and someone would get hurt. Once we reach Tronscar, I will simply explain everything to my father and sort this entire mess out.” He pressed his cheek against her temple. Having her in his arms, at his side, felt right. It was as if she had always been there. Truthfully, a part of her had been at his side since the day they met four years ago.

Lothair rubbed her back. “Kat, there is nothing to explain to your father. We must wed, and soon,” he said softly into her ear. Her head snapped up, her eyes big and round.

“Wed you? But you do not want to wed, you said. You said that you don’t believe in love or . . . and . . .” Her voice was nervous as she continued to ramble. “I can fix this little problem with Rikard, Lothair. I swear to you that I can straighten this entire thing out in a few days once we reach Tronscar. We need only fake being husband and wife for another day or so.” She began to pull away, but he refused to release his hold.

“You really have learned nothing, have you?” He closed his eyes, annoyed at the prospect of having yet another argument with her. He let her go and took a step back. “You announced to a room of politicians that we are lawfully wed—they will not accept a simple explanation that you lied to save me from well-deserved retribution. They saw me in this chamber, alone with you, not dressed. My damn boots were under your bed.” He voice was harsher than he’d intended.

“I didn’t say that it would be without some measure of embarrassment, Lothair. But I will not force you to wed me. I will fix this. In time it will be all forgotten.” She stepped closer and placed her small hand on his chest, over his heart.

“You will wed me before this day is through, Katia, and that is the end of it!” He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Some words cannot be unsaid. You will need to face the consequences of your actions.”

“Why, you self-serving lout! I would not wed you for all the gold in Jerusalem. I would not touch you with a ten-foot pole, you, you, hairy-backed arse!”

Katia snatched up her cloak and sword and stomped out the door. He signed, yielding to the idea that he better get used to the sound of slamming doors and stomping feet. He was about to become a husband.

Throughout the day, menacing black clouds loomed just above the treetops, threatening to spill open at any moment. For the sake of appearances alone, Katia rode close to Lothair, playing the part of adoring wife.

Lothair reined in Homer, whom Katia had developed a strong fondness for. Lothair came to an abrupt halt at a fork in the road.

“We will rejoin you tomorrow in Lubeck, Count, Duke, Rikard.” Lothair nodded to each one. “Katia is most anxious to survey her new home.”

Katia couldn’t help but look back and forth between the traveling companions, watching their shock and surprise at this abrupt change in plan.

“This is not what we agreed.” Rikard maneuvered his warhorse closer to Katia’s side. “We shall spend the night aboard the jarl’s ship and sail at first light. Conditions at sea worsen with each passing day.”

“The women have been journeying for months, my good man.” Lothair voice held firm. “My wife suffered injury on the road to Prague, and she nearly succumbed to a fever. She needs a few days’ rest before the Baltic crossing.”

“Lothair,” Katia said in a deceivingly pliable tone, “I am fully restored—”

“Katia,” he snapped, “I will be the judge if you are capable or not.”

“That is the most pig—” she began to counter.

“Kat,” Tosha said, “I see you favor your left side and you’re still weak. A rest to restore your strength before a grueling sea voyage is sensible.” Tosha spoke with genuine concern.

“Hmph,” Rikard grumbled. He had been scrutinizing Katia’s appearance all day and forced her to eat two servings of soup at midday. Apparently he didn’t need much convincing that her health could be better. “I will return to collect you in two days, Katia.” Rikard pointed at Lothair. “Have her ready.”

“Another five miles down this road leads you directly to my gates.” Lothair returned Rikard’s hostile glare. “Come, wife, Hanseatz Castle awaits.”

“Come on, Kat,” Tosha said, smiling annoyingly at her. Clearly she was in on the conspiracy to separate Katia from her father’s men. “Lars tells me the castle is very pleasing, and only slightly smaller than his,” she teased.

They set off for the castle, continuing through the dense evergreen forest that they had been traveling through for the past several hours. The tall trees robbed the lower branches of light, stripping them of greenery and leaving them to appear as starved sticks. There was no ground foliage to speak off, just the soft brown decay of sticks and pine needles. The road was straight and seemed to swallow up Lars and Lothair as they moved ahead quickly. The looming height of the trees made Katia feel tiny and restless.

Lothair was definitely up to something.

The gray clouds finally opened as they rounded a bend, releasing the downpour that had been hanging over their heads all day. Not quite snow and not quite rain, it fell upon her in full force, running down her face and into the collar of her cloak. It held the immediate expectation of snow to come, heralding the coming winter.

Katia kept her head down, trying to avoid getting totally soaked. Abruptly, she found herself in the center of a church courtyard. Lothair had already dismounted and he helped her off her horse, depositing her into ankle-deep mud.

“Where are we?” she asked. Lothair ignored her question and grabbed her upper arm, pulling her toward the side entry of a light gray stone church. Rain spat in her eyes and puddle after puddle soaked more mud into her boots. She noted the bright red clay roof tiles, half-moon arches, and lovely stained glass windows. She couldn’t help but think of her father and how much he would have enjoyed inspecting the artfully designed chapel.

Lothair was dragging her along quickly, so she didn’t have an opportunity to truly examine much more of the exterior structure. A moment later, they entered a dark hall. Katia didn’t have time to catch her breath or shake off the rain before Lothair stomped ahead, tugging her along. She twisted to look behind her and found Lars and Tosha had disappeared. Lothair burst into a chamber without knocking, which Katia thought to be yet another sign of his rude temper. A sandy-haired man at the far end of the hall lifted his head and smiled. She recognized it easily—it was Lothair’s smile, perhaps ten or fifteen years from now.

“My son.” The priest was perhaps in his mid-thirties; he rushed toward them from an altar, where he had been lighting candles. “God is good. I prayed for your safe return daily.” The priest embraced Lothair.

“Father Phillip, I present Katia Magnusdotter of Tronscar. Katia, this is my mother’s brother, Father Phillip.”

“Honored to make your acquaintance, Father.” Katia bowed her head and curtsied.

“The honor is mine, daughter. Please come, let us go into the study and sit by the hearth. You both appear soaked to the skin.”

It was not at all proper to regard a man of the cloth as handsome, yet how could she not? He was the spitting image of a slightly aged Lothair, the main difference being the calm openness in the priest’s eyes. He led them to another side door and another after that. The small church was a labyrinth of torch-lit corridors and chambers.

Finally, they came to a bright room with a large hearth. Dry warmth enveloped Katia’s frosty cheeks. The furnishings were sparse, with no frills or ornamentations of any find. Several serviceable tables lined the walls, displaying scrolls and open texts, and quills and parchment littered every surface. Positioned at either side of the hearth was a pair of uncomfortable-looking, high-backed chairs. Father Phillip gestured for them to sit.

“Your mother must be overjoyed by your return,” Father Phillip said while pouring malt wine into three wooden chalices.

“We have come here first.” Lothair accepted the wine with a smile. “How is she?” he asked more quietly, looking into his cup.

“She has aged greatly this past year, I am afraid, though your sisters bring her much comfort. Anne wed last summer and is living in Lubeck. Her husband is the duke’s steward. Alas, Margery is heavy with child and cannot travel to Hanseatz often. You understand.”

“Aye.” Guilt washed over Lothair’s face. “How is Margery?”

“The definition of bliss and health.” Father Phillip pulled up a stool to the hearth.

“You said she is with child? She was near her confinement when I departed over a year ago. Am already an uncle then?”

“Yes, the child is a year old. They named him the most daunting of names.” The priest waited for Lothair to look him in the eyes before he would continue. “Heaven help us with two Lothairs in one family.”

“Is . . . does Mother still receive the duke?” he all but whispered.

The priest shook his head. “But you are here now. You will raise her spirits.” Father Phillip looked back and forth between Katia and Lothair. “Will you be staying long?”

“Not overly long . . . I have some urgent business that I arrive here seeking your assistance with,” Lothair said, darting his eyes to Katia. Her nervousness was rising. What was going on? Why had Lars and Tosha not come inside with them?

“I need you to write out a marriage contract, and then I ask you sanctify the union with the sacrament and blessing. Tonight,” Lothair said.

Katia was stunned into silence.

“Felicitations, my son,” Father Phillip said. “But what about the maiden’s family, her father, her kin?”

“Norrlanders.” Lothair shook his head slightly. “A strange situation—she is given the right to sign her own contract.”

“Unheard of,” the priest commented. “Highly unusual, Lothair. Perhaps we should consult with the duke. A noble witness or two will—”

“No. It must be tonight. Lars and yourself are all the witnesses that are required under church law. We sail for Norrland at the first break in the weather, and if the girl returns to her father unwed, I fear the consequences for all may be very steep.”

“Lothair!” Katia regained her voice at last and gasped at the implication. “Father Phillip, I assure you, this arrangement is not necessary. Your nephew is only—”

“Hold your tongue, Kat.” Lothair glared at her. “Do you wish so greatly for my head to be separated from my shoulders by a Tronscar blade? I was under the impression you thought yourself indebted to me.”

“Lothair, you exaggerate. My far will be understanding, you will see.” Katia smiled and fluttered her eyelashes but that did not seem to have any effect at all.

“Aye. I will see how he accepts this union with the security of having the title of your husband. Perhaps when I tell him you carry my child in your womb, he will hold off my beheading for at least a few months.”

“Lothair! That is the most ridiculous thing you have ever said to me and you have said a lot of foolish things!” She turned to the priest for assistance. “Father, he exaggerates. I naught but kissed him. I have no babe in my belly, I assure you. He only speaks these words to force the marriage. Help me reason with him. My far is certain to reward your brave, thick-skulled nephew. Lothair, you see, has come to my aid on more than one occasion. Tronscar will name ships after him, swords will be etched with his name for the honor of securing my safe return.”

“My child,” the priest said, “be assured, I will not bless your union nor write a contract against your will. Matrimony is sacred, requiring the free will of both parties that enter into it.”

“You stupid chit! Now you’ve done it.” Lothair grabbed up her hand, jerking her out of her chair and starting back toward the door. “When will you learn to keep your mouth shut?” He pulled her across the chamber without offering another word of explanation to the kind priest.

“We will have to ride another hour in the rain to find Lars’s priest,” he continued. “Your nose will freeze and fall off before we arrive and you will no doubt catch your death long before we reach your cursed Tronscar.”

“Lothair.” She yanked her arm free. “This is insanity. You cannot wed me. I have already told you, you needn’t worry. I would never allow Rikard, my father, or any of his men to harm you or accuse you of any dishonorable conduct. I will take all the blame. My family will have no trouble believing in my ability to make a mess of things.”

“What nobleman allows a maid to take his rightful punishment?” he retorted. “You are going to wed me tonight, Katia, so you might as well get used to it.”

He spun around and stepped toward her, backing her into a wall, caging her with his arms. “You are not leaving my land until you are my wife. Have you taken a single moment to think about what will happen in Tronscar after you declare with naught but a flick of the wrist that we are not truly wed? If somehow I were to leave Norrland with all my limbs still attached, I would lose them quickly enough upon returning to Lubeck. My father would banish me and strip me of my title and land for insulting his allies and lying to his face. Where would my mother be then? Have you stopped to think of anyone besides yourself, Katia? You will be the Baroness of Hanseatz from this day forward. You best get that through your thick head of yours—” He glared down at her, looking like he could go on yelling all night.

“Fine!” she snapped her reply. She was humbled and confused. Why his temper set her heart to flutter, she couldn’t say. She should seek the counsel of a healer. “I will wed you, but I will still speak to the jarl about this mess and find a way out of it for you after. I will not have your kind service to me be an eternal punishment.”

The anger seemed to drain from his eyes.

“I’m sorry that . . . I’m sorry for a lot of things,” she said.

“Can you hold your tongue for an hour, iron princess? That will be the start of your recompense. Go sit down by the fire and dry your hair before you catch your death. I need to speak with my uncle and fix the latest mess you have made for us.”

Katia dragged her feet over to a chair and sat down as she was ordered. Poor Lothair. How was she ever going to make this up to him?