The Iron Princess (18 page)

***

After they bathed, they ate fresh poppy seed bread, with Isa’s famous summer preserves spread generously across the top. Katia announced she would never eat another meal without the sweet jam. Lothair sat on the bear rug in front of the fire, Katia between his legs, leaning her back into his chest, wrapped in his arms. They spoke quietly of nothing important, totally at ease. Her hair dried slowly, lightening to a shade of honey gold.

Her voice became a little scratchy, but she didn’t seem to have any desire to surrender to sleep, much like him. Sleep would mean letting go of this moment. As long as they never slept, then this strange, overpowering feeling was real.

Lothair held his baroness a little tighter.

In the still hours of early morning, a bone-chilling wind rattled the closed shutters of Lothair’s chamber. Katia scampered across the stone floor, which was covered by the softest woven rugs she had ever felt below her bare feet, and peeled back the flapping window covering.

An angry winter storm had come to the North Sea. Her heart sank. The world was painted in white, and a million featherlight flecks of snow danced on the wind. Just past the castle grounds, she could see the wide channel that connected to the open water of the sea, which was filled with combative white caps. Tronscar was only a few short days away, across the violent-looking sea. Her anxious feet wanted to go, this very second, but another part of her simply wanted to go back to bed.

Hanseatz Castle was perched on top of a high embankment, and from this height she could see several large cargo ships tied to a dock and several more moored a short distance offshore.

She turned to look back at the closed curtains of the canopy bed and skipped quickly across the chamber to return to the warmth of Lothair’s side.

Last night felt like a dream. Lothair’s body had joined with hers and the result had not been what she’d expected. If all couples experienced what they did, how was anything to get done in a day? All she craved to do was be held by Lothair, his hands caressing her with both tenderness and urgency. The secrets of his lips, his tongue, his scent, his very breath had taken her to a new level of understanding.

She nuzzled in closer to his muscular arm and he stirred in his sleep, shifting to his side. Like a well-rehearsed dance, he pushed his arm under her head and pulled her in close. This past day and night would always be remembered as the greatest time of her life, she told herself.

Soon, much too soon, this magic would end. She could never let him sacrifice his future happiness for her personal enjoyment, no matter how honorable he professed to be. She would fix the mess she had made and make sure he was able to go about his life undisturbed.

She wasn’t fooled by his excuse that they had wed to protect
his
name. She knew he wed her to protect her honor and reputation. She loved him too much ever to let him remain locked in matrimony . . . at least not forever.

Katia had no care for her reputation or name. More than ever she had resolved to focus on helping her brother Urho. If she was too late to save him, she would return to Turku and continue a life of quiet contemplation. Then, after the foreign forces were pushed out of Finland by the Norrland army, she could farm and help the quiet, humble people of Turku.

She would keep Lothair’s warm and tender embrace in her mind forevermore, a gift she could call to mind on cold, sleepless nights.

At some point, while lost in her unpleasant musings, Katia fell back to sleep. She awoke again to Lothair kissing her neck. She moaned. His large, callused hand was caressing her bare breast when he froze.

“Are you . . . too tender?” He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he worked to slow his breathing.

“Not overly. Please, Lothair, make me feel like you did last night?”

***

Lothair couldn’t think of anything but worshipping her flawless form. He started kissing at his favorite place behind her ear, quickly moving down to the hollow of her neck and then farther down, finding yet another favorite spot to taste. He would have to spend more time at this spot later, he told himself. At the moment, he needed to be inside her, to reassure himself that she belonged to him.

Wetness coated his fingertips. She was more than ready for him so he plunged into her depths. They were both breathless, panting, arching toward the peak of their pleasure that swiftly took them both. Collapsing in blissful agony, he lay in a tangled mess of sweaty legs and arms.

Eventually, he sank into a deep sleep, waking a short time later to the feeling of her lips on his chest. He was erect again and, a moment later, moving inside her. They spent the remainder of the morning in a repetitive pattern of sleep and lovemaking.

At some point, Lothair’s steward relayed a message from Rikard that the weather was too poor for them to make the journey across the North Sea to Tronscar safely that day. That was fine with him—he never wanted to leave this bed. He may have never allowed her to rise from their cozy nest if not for the echoing rumbles of her empty belly. He first attempted to kiss it and tell it to hush, as he lazily stroked the soft skin on of the inside of his wife’s thigh, but it did not obey.

After eating a light meal, he reluctantly dressed, both helping and hindering Katia’s progress to do the same. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to take his hands off her again. Katia giggled, slapping his hands away and telling him that she was becoming a little tender, so they might as well go visit with their friends. She seemed keen on spending time with Tosha, and Lothair could not refuse her—it was possible he might not be able to refuse her anything ever again.

***

Katia sat side by side with Tosha at the head table in Lars’s castle. It was hard for her to get her head around the fact that both of them were now wives. Eight months ago, when they had started their adventure in Turku, she could have never imagined this outcome.

Tosha beamed as she described to Katia how the servants did every little thing for her, before she even asked them to. Katia smiled with wholehearted joy. No one deserved to be happy more than her friend. Lars was the luckiest of men to have Tosha as his wife, and Katia was determined never to let him forget it.

Katia lifted up Tosha’s hand and kissed it. “I will miss you so much.” Tears threatened to spill. “I will be certain to travel back with your mother in the spring. She will be overjoyed to see you so happy and well placed.” Katia smiled through her falling tears. “Apologies, I must have had too much wine.” She swept them away, embarrassed to have lost control of her emotions.

“Kat,” Tosh said soothingly. “You never cry. What’s this all about?”

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just so very happy for you—I’ll miss spending every day with you.” The two friends embraced with a fierce passion.

“You may still see each other near to every day, my dear Katia.” Lars interrupted the emotional exchange. “Fear not. Lothair and I hunt and train together daily. I see no reason why the tradition cannot continue as before. Had I known wedding a friendly pair of silly maids was so agreeable, Lothair and I would have gone on our quest for wives long before now.”

“Quest for wives?” Katia turned to Lothair and laughed.

“Never mind him.” Lothair put his arm around her. “He is deep into his cups, I’m afraid.”

Tosha smiled at seeing Lothair’s arm drape so naturally around Katia. “Kat, we will need a little time away from the men for a few hours a week, at least. Though this winter spent apart will feel mighty long without my friend.”

“Winter apart?” Lars said. “After a first few weeks of rutting out his energy, I’m sure Lothair will give her back to you.” He snorted. Indeed, Lars was enjoying his wine a little too much this evening.

Tosha rolled her eyes and patted Lars’s hand. “Beloved, you are mistaken. Katia and Lothair depart for the north on the morning.”

“Impossible,” Lars slurred. “The Medelpad fjord is fully iced in. You will not be getting close to Tronscar until after it thaws. You might as well drink up, my dear baroness.” Lars returned to his wine.

Katia reached for the pitcher of water while considering this new information. She had better have a clear head while speaking with Rikard later on—he was sure to be working on an alternative route.

“I was meaning to speak with you when we got home,” Lothair said. “We have confirmed reports of early ice buildup in the fjord just south of Tronscar. The northern golf will be full of ice flows by now. We shall be one of the first ships to sail in the spring.”

“What! You can’t be serious.” She jerked away from his touch. “If you are trying my temper as a jest to taunt me, it’s not funny, Lothair.”

“I don’t speak to rile you, Kat. I will not risk you in a winter crossing. Your family will understand that your safety is what’s important. Your reports got to the proper hands. You did what you could. Next spring, if the sea’s safe enough, we’ll travel directly to Tronscar.”

“If?” she said in a loud hiss.

“Lower your voice,” he said, grabbing her hand.

“We should have gone straight for the ports as Rikard suggested. We could have gotten ahead of the storm,” she said.

Lothair ignored her flared nostrils and returned his attention to his meal. “Katia, have some more of the venison. The red meat is good for your blood. You’re still too pale.” Lothair loaded her platter with more food, but Katia stood up and pushed her chair out behind her, stomping directly for the hall’s exit.

“Where do you think you are going?” Lothair grabbed her good arm and spun her back around.

“To find Rikard,” she stated flatly, and jerked her arm free.

“Not a chance in hell. Now, get back to your seat and finish your meal.” He sounded like he was scolding a child.

“I’m returning to Tronscar, Lothair, and you can’t stop me.”

“The hell I can’t! You’re my wife and you’ll do as you’re told.”

“Devil take you, Lothair. You knew all along that I would not stop until I got home.”

“You are home. Hanseatz is your home.”

“Hell’s bells! I’m not staying here while Urho and his family are slaughtered. I’m going back to Tronscar and helping with the defense of Korski any way I can find.”

“Save your breath, princess,” he said. “There is no bloody way I am letting you get within a hundred miles of Korski before order is restored. Next time I see you wielding that cursed sword of yours, you’ll be over my knee the next minute being introduced to the manner in which German barons discipline obstinate wives.”

“You wouldn’t dare touch me, Lothair, so spare me your empty threats.”

“Empty threats? A red backside is just what you need, princess. You’ve been let to run wild for too long.”

She poked her finger into his chest with bruising force. “Lothair, if you ever raised a hand to my backside, you would need to sleep with one eye open for the rest of your life. I would have my revenge, in this lifetime and the next. That is my promise to you.” She ground her teeth down so hard her jaw hurt.

“Bryn!” Lothair shouted across the corridor to the entry. “Retrieve the baroness’s cloak. We shall be traveling home at once.” Lothair clenched his jaw.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she snapped.

“Oh yes you are,” he countered.

“I have had too much to drink to ride in a saddle,” Katia spat out.

“That is why you will be riding with me, sweet wife,” Lothair responded, his rage cold and controlled.

“I think not. I shall surely fall and break my
precious
neck and I know how concerned you are with my health.”

“I assure you that you will not fall,” he said.

“I will sleep here tonight and that’s the end of it. I’m not going anywhere with you.” Katia matched his angry glare.

“And yet I say you are.” Lothair reached for her once more.

“Don’t touch me!” She dodged away and darted back into the hall with Lothair following close behind her.

“Tosh, I have a throbbing headache and my arm is sore. May I trouble you for a place to rest my head?” The excuse was easy to come up with because it was entirely true. The only thing she had to fake was her calm delivery.

“Of course.” Tosha pushed her chair back and laced her arm with Katia’s. “I hoped you would be staying the night—I had the best chamber prepared for you.”

“Excellent. May I retire directly?” she asked.

“Eager to have your man alone, Katia?” Lars cackled annoyingly.

“You know me all too well, Lars.” Katia rolled her eyes at Tosh.

“I will escort you,” Lothair said.

“No need,
husband
. Tosha will show me the way.” Katia clutched Tosha’s arm tightly and her friend furrowed her brow, clearly realizing that something was wrong.

“Right this way, Kat.”

Once they were safely around the corner, Katia dragged Tosha over to a dark alcove off the entrance.

“Tosh, you must help me. I must leave Lubeck tonight.”

The bow of the
Iron Queen
cut through the winter waves like hot Norrland steel through snow. Salt spray stung her eyes as she worked the till, allowing Katia to let her tears of anguish flow without notice. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. Her heart was in fragments of broken glass; the right thing to do was go home to Tronscar, help her brother Urho in whatever way she could find, and provide every piece of information to her father to give him advantage in strategy. A clear and vivid description of Andrei and his top commanders would be invaluable in plotting the offense in Finland.

Yet even after repeating all the reasons why she had made the right decision to leave Lothair, she could still find no comfort. Lothair would be angry with her, very angry. Knowing that he would resent her was devastating. Especially after all they had shared.

The sea was a black, open void, a never-ending expanse that stretched out before her. Would Lothair ever forgive her? Would he someday understand?

A silver beacon of moonlight cast a mile-long sliver of brightness across the surface of the surging sea. It was beautiful, in a terrifying sort of way. The fifty oarsmen labored against strong northeast winds that hampered their progress. They would be forced to take a zigzag course that would nearly double the distance between Lubeck and Tronscar, no doubt adding several miserable days to the journey.

At least it looked like they would have clear skies in the morning. They would need every ounce of daylight to navigate around the ice flows that had broken off from the shoreline, adding danger on top of the strong winds. One wrong flinch of the till and she could tear off the iron rivets that held the overlapping seams of the ship together. She couldn’t afford any mistakes. They would reach Tronscar only a few weeks before the long, black blanket of winter held them captive with over a month of little to no daylight.

It would surely feel like the longest winter of her life . . . no sun, no warmth, no Lothair, who was all of those things to her heart. A rogue sob tore through her lungs. Rikard turned his head and placed his hand over hers on the till, taking over.

For once, she let him.

***

Green, yellow, and purple light blended, swirled, and danced overhead. She rode at top speed across the familiar open field, now covered in a few inches of fresh snow. It was a relief to be home, but part of her brain called out in agony and heartache for Lothair, despairing that he was not here by her side to experience the beauty of the northern lights.

As she approached the fifty-foot iron spiked gates, the right panel opened. The fire pits in the yard allowed ample light for all the villagers to witness her return. The whispers and murmurs of disbelief started almost immediately. Katia would take time to visit them all tomorrow, when she had better control over her sentimental heart. For the moment, she needed to see her mother and father, hold her brothers, and have a good long cry.

She dismounted from her horse and a servant rushed to her side, bowed a greeting, and led away her mount.

As she took the final steps forward into her parents’ home, Katia pushed back the hood of her cloak and prayed for courage. A mountain of dread filled her heart, creeping up her throat and burning the rims of her ears.

So much had happened—she was not the maiden that had left to summer in Turku so long ago. She was a woman of the world now, not only of Tronscar. Her right arm ached and she was glad of it. She rubbed the scar, which would always remind her of Lothair. The ache she felt for him was so much greater than any fatigued muscle. For over three months, she had spent every waking moment with him. Now every hour spent apart nagged at her like an unforgiving toothache. He was never more than a breath from her thoughts. But this was a homecoming, and not the time to dwell on what could not be helped.

With her first step into the great hall, she felt solid and secure. The room was lit with a thousand candles—no sinister shadows here—and the great, blazing hearth sent warmth rushing to her wind-chapped cheeks. The tables were teeming with men and women taking their evening meal, and there was a comfortable sound of contented merriment. Her parents hosted a hundred high-ranking domestics on any given winter’s night. Tonight, it appeared they had invited an extra hundred.

Rollo, the chief orator of Tronscar, slammed the iron staff three times. Katia did not bother with an official notice of her arrival but instead ran straight for the dais, where the head table stood, overlooking it all.

Her mother gasped, silencing the hall. Katia’s eyes became unfocused as the sight of her mother rushing toward her. Their tackling embrace would have taken them to the ground if not for the locking arms of her far crushing Lida and Katia to his chest. Her mother cupped her cheek, sweeping tears away gently.

“Katia, oh, my precious girl,” her mother said, tears rolling down her face. “We thought you dead—we had reports that—” she whispered, her voice thickening.

“I am well, Mama. See, I am well.” She tried to send her mother a smile of comfort but her heart was too heavy for the smile to ring true. Her far cupped her face in his powerful hands and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “Tell her, Far, I am well.”

“Our heart—you are home.” The jarl had intended to speak in a whisper, but his words seemed to carry throughout in the silent hall.

“Katia!” The word was followed by a stampede. Hök and Stål carried their younger brothers, Ansgar and Aron, on their backs. Katia’s mother released her long enough that she could hug and kiss each brother, but Zander stayed back from the group.

“Come here and embrace your sister. I have even come to miss you, my little horn-headed goat.” Katia reach to grab hold of her brother but he pulled away to hide behind Stål. “What in the blazes is wrong, Zander? I’m the one in the sorry state.”

“He thinks you hate him,” Stål whispered.

“Why would I—” she began to ask.

“He thinks you never came home because of him, because of what he did to you before you left. You said you’d rather live with trolls,” Hök explained with unnecessary accuracy.

“I have come to realize,” Katia said softly as she skirted around Stål, never looking away from Zander, “that having a tormenting little brother who never gives me a moment’s peace is quite good training for traveling in lands filled with muskrats and vipers. Get over here and hug me, before I kiss both of your cheeks in front of your mates.” Zander gave a shy smile and ran into her arms.

Her mother could hold off no longer. “Katia, you must explain yourself. For months we have received reports of sightings of you from hundreds of miles away.”

“Sightings? From whom?” Katia turned to the jarl, who was towering over her. “Far, there is so much to tell you. Did you get my message? Did you get my map?”

Her mother gasped in shock and her father growled deep in his throat—the bad kind of angry growl.

“Heavens no, Katia!” Lida cried. “Tell me it is not true—tell me you did not deliberately travel into Rus territory just to steal that stupid map!”

“
Stupid?
” Katia struggled to rein in her temper.

“Answer your mother!” her father boomed, their happy reunion officially over.

“What did you mean by ‘stupid map’?” Katia protested. “I was able to pinpoint exact locations where Andrei is wintering his troops and locations for—”

The jarl grabbed her by both shoulders and started to shake her, squeezing her injured shoulder. She tried not to whimper. “You could have been killed! Selfish girl, have you no heart for your mother, for your brothers, for me!”

“Magnus, stop!” Lida pulled the jarl’s hands off her.

“Katia, start explaining—quickly. I fear I will not be able to protect you from your father’s wrath while my own is so very great,” her mother said. Her mother was never more than mildly annoyed, but now she was about to make herself ill she looked so furious.

Katia rubbed at the sore sting that was mounting in her arm. “I’m old enough to decide what I want to do with my life. Smiling for two-faced idiot dukes and earls is not what I want. If sons can be expected to go off to war to protect their families, why not a daughter? It is my right to protect my family any way I know how.” She raised her chin. “And I did not fare so terribly. No one was hurt on my mission and my information will be of great value to the king and to you, Far, to organize your defense.”

“Mission?” Lida said disbelievingly, tossing her hands in the air.

Her father blasted. “Have you so little faith in me that I would leave a wisp of a girl in charge of the securing the safety of my people?” The jarl stepped aside and Katia could not believe what she saw—it was one of Andrei’s guards, an enemy within their very walls.

“Far—” She rushed to his side and jumped up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “That man is a traitor. I saw him in Bogolyubovo. He is Prince Andrei’s guard, he is—”

“My top-ranked field commander, Bercik, who has just returned from his assignment of infiltrating Andrei’s command,” Magnus said coldly.

“No!” Katia’s pride emptied as water through a sieve.

“Yes.” Her father closed his eyes and turned away from her.

“But, I thought . . . Otso said forces would be in Korski before the harvest . . .”

“Stop, Katia!” Lida said loudly. “Your father and I will talk with you privately in our chamber, after he has finished speaking with Rikard. I believe, Magnus, we best reserve certain details for a select number of ears.” Her mother stroked Ansgar’s small blond head. Her littlest brother’s brow was pinched tight with concern.

Tero and the spy stepped forward hesitantly. “My jarl,” Tero interrupted. “Bercik has just asked me who this young maid is—he has never had the privilege of being introduced to your daughter.”

“Daughter?” The spy did not hide his shock.

“Aye, my good man,” the jarl said. “This is my daughter, Katia. Katia, this is Bercik, who joined our fleet from Estonia last year.”

Bercik whispered under his breath, “It was you, wasn’t it? The maid I let into Andrei’s chamber.”

Every blood vessel in her father’s face seemed about to burst. “Katia?” he roared.

“I beg your pardon, my jarl.” Bercik inclined his head. “I do not mean to suggest—only she had been sent to serve—I do not believe the act transpired.” The spy had begun to sweat. Clearly it was not his intent to tell her father that she had been debauched by a Rus madman. “Your daughter has fine courage, my jarl. But may I ask after her health? The last time I saw her, she was near death, vomiting blood in his arms.”

“Katia?” Her father arched his brow and awaited her response.

“It was only a diversion,” she said. “Merely a ruse to escape the chamber of the prince.”

“Yes, but—” Bercik turned his attention to her father. “Excuse me, my jarl, if I may?” Her father gestured for him to continue. “I inquired after you. They said you died in the night and that the envoy from Spector Company buried you in the woods—that one of them claimed to be your husband.”

“Oh, well, yes, that is a very long story.” Katia turned her attention back to her father and mother’s piercing eyes. “Do you remember that charming young swordsman from Lubeck? You know, years back, he visited with the Duke of Saxony?” They nodded their acknowledgment. “Yes, well, as I was saying, a group of warriors from Saxony, Angli, and Flanders helped me and Tosha flee the prince’s palace—” She suddenly remembered the wonderful news of Tosh’s marriage and turned to her mother. “Where is Ragna? I must go speak with her and tell her all about Tosha’s wonderful news. She wed a viscount, Mama—she is going to be a countess. Can you believe it?” She smiled with joy but her mother only appeared more confused.

“Katia!” he father snapped. “What of this envoy?”

“Fear not, Father, they were not conspiring against the north. They were simply there by way of invitation to hold tournaments with Prince Andrei’s men.” No need to be too truthful with her father about Lothair and his friends working as mercenaries. “They were lured under the false banner of a peace alliance, I might add. Anyway, Baron Hanseatz and Viscount Northum and Valen and Fist were all just wonderfully helpful. Lothair has literally saved my life more times than I can count. I did save his a few times as well, of course, but still, I can truthfully say that without Lothair, I would not have made it home.”

Rikard stepped forward. “That is not entirely true, Katia. You are safe at home now—the lies must end.”

“What lies, Katia?” Her mother softly spoke but her tone was serious.

“Mama,” Katia stalled, “I injured my shoulder last month and it still gives me great pain. I haven’t felt this tired in all my life. Might I lay down for a little while and explain everything in the morn?”

Her parents looked at each and then nodded their heads in unison.

“You do appear very thin and pale.” Her far scrutinized her from head to toe. Could he tell that she was no longer a virgin just by looking at her? She hoped not. She really did have a pounding headache and was exhausted beyond measure, but she also wanted to make her escape from the hall because she had no idea how to explain.

Her grandmother’s sage advice was that when you don’t know how to go on, just cough. In other words, divert for a moment to think before speaking. A little sleep was what she needed. She was bound to come up with some reasonable-sounding explanation when she had a clearer head.

Besides, being smashed over the head with a hammer would have felt milder than the revelation about her father’s spy. Rather than taking comfort in the fact that Tronscar was well guarded and prepared, she felt gutted. Everything she thought she had accomplished had been for nothing. She intended on vomiting the moment she reached her chamber pot.

Lida laced an arm around her waist, and Magnus touched her chin, kissing her tenderly on the cheek. With her mother at her side, Katia walked slowly in the direction of the stairs.

“I am so tired, Mama. I could sleep for a year.” She dropped her head down on her mother’s shoulder as they took their first steps out of the hall.

“That is probably for the best. It will be at least that long before your father lets you out of your room.”