The Iron Princess (22 page)

Katia roused to a stretching burn in her arm sockets. She was dangling a few feet off the ground, her arms tied to a chain hanging from the ceiling. Odd how the mind wanders during such immense pain; she recognized the chain link. It had been crafted in Tronscar, likely by her good friend Macki.

She wiggled her fingers and toes. Regrettably, she was not simply still alive, but able to feel everything. Every breath stabbed her with a thousand piercing blades from inside her chest, and every muscle was on fire and pulsing with pain. She surveyed her body. She wore a clean white linen nightshirt that she had not put on.

The pain made it nearly impossible to breathe. Fever must be taking its hold on her. She began to sweat profusely and shiver. She would die here, and Lothair and her father would never forgive her for her stupidity. She closed her eyes and tried unsuccessfully to surrender to the pain, surrender to death, and cowardly sink away from this world. “Lothair. Forgive me,” she murmured.

Suddenly, the door of the wooden shack shattered into a thousand shards. She closed her eyes, turning her face from the flying debris. She could hear the distinct sound of the Tronscar battle cry.

Katia could only make out blurred flashes of Tronscar helmets, polished iron breastplates, and slicing broadswords. In her mind, she screamed for Lothair, yet her heart recoiled at the thought of him seeing her this way—humiliated, bleeding, and shamed.

Lothair deserved someone so much better than her. Not a wife who constantly found herself in trouble, needing a man to rescue her.

One arm slid under her back, the other under her knees. She knew it was Lothair, but she shut her eyes, not able to look at him. She heard an axe hammering, feeling the violent tug to her wrists as she was freed. He clutched her to his chest as he had done a hundred times before, tenderly, protectively, effortlessly.

“Kat.” Lothair bent his head down, needing to smell her hair, to rest his temple against hers. Having her in his arms was not enough to assure his heart that he had her back.

He quickly kneeled, holding part of her weight against his thigh as he unwrapped his cloak and swaddled her in it. Her body was dripping sweat and blood.

“I have you, Kat. You are safe. I have you,” he whispered into her ear. He had failed her. Locking her out of the war council had been a disastrous mistake. Magnus’s troops had been assembled, along with the entire Norrland fleet, waiting down the coast for the signal to launch the invasion of Korski. They were only waiting for follow up reports from Urho’s spies. He should have told her—oh God, this was his fault.

“Katia, tell me, where are you hurt?” He searched under the cloak, not seeing where the blood was coming from, finding no obvious sign of a stab wound. Her eyes remained squeezed tightly shut, letting him know she was awake.

He stood, holding his beloved high and tight to his chest while all around them close combat took place. He looked over his shoulder to see his father-in-law with his boot on Andrei’s throat. King Canute’s emissary was tugging at his sleeve, pleading for Magnus to halt, saying the prince was not to be harmed. Lothair hated politicians near as much as he hated the ungodly prince. He needed to get his wife into clean air, away from the stench of blood and corruption.

“Lothair!” Magnus shouted. Lothair turned to witness Andrei’s arms being pulled behind him by Rikard, who wrenched the prince up off his feet. Magnus’ face was tense, concerned now only for his daughter’s condition.

“She lives, but she . . . she needs a healer.” Lothair locked eyes with the mighty jarl.

***

Magnus read the challenge in the young baron’s eyes. Lothair appeared prepared to kill any man, even Katia’s own father, if he was made to release her.

“Come, my ship is fastest. Tero will know the best healer,” Magnus said. “Tero! Aleksi! Find the healers and supply them with what they need. We depart for Tronscar immediately. My daughter needs her mother.” Magnus looked down at her battered face. Would she live long enough to reach her mother? He craved to take Katia from her husband, hold her in his own arms, but resisted the urge.

Magnus said reassuringly, “She is strong. Her mother will make her well.”

“She—she does not speak,” Lothair said.

He swallowed the bile in his throat and looked over his shoulder. Only a few small clashes were still going on near the forest—the rest of the Rus and Slavic soldiers had surrendered. Many were still blinking the sleep from their eyes.

“Urho,” Katia said in a small voice.

Magnus stroked her soiled hair and spoke close to her ear. “He is well, my little Kat. He executed his assigned mission with great honor. I will bring him to you directly.”

“Assigned mission?” Katia’s small hand slipped out from under the cloak and he took her hand. “Urho lives?”

“Indeed. He served his people with distinction. He is a wise and brave chieftain, a credit to his family.”

“But Veronchka . . . she . . . ”

“Will be dealt with by her kinsmen.” Magnus looked to Lothair to find agreement. “The woman’s betrayal of her countrymen shall be judged by her chief,” he said. Magnus then turned to speak to his commanders, who had regrouped to await further instruction. The original battle plan had been altered to prioritize locating Katia. “Nourish the lawn of Korski with Rus and Slavic blood,” Magnus decreed.

“Magnus, no,” a soldier said from behind the jarl. It was Ambjorn, King Canute’s chief counsel. “This is not to our agreement, cousin.” Ambjorn took a cautious step forward. He was another high-ranking member of the House of Eric.

“That agreement was based on Andrei’s lust for the Swedish throne, not extracting vengeance upon my daughter! I will have all their heads,” Magnus stated.

Ambjorn waved his arms in a gesture of ‘nay’. “I wish I could grant you the solace, cousin, but I cannot. Your daughter’s treatment at the hand of Prince Andrei was unfortunate, yet the courts may see it as some reverse plot on your account to have cause to slaughter your old enemy. They will surely ask how Lady Katia came into the hands of the Rus invaders.”

Magnus breathed and endeavored to focus his mind. He never was able to see clearly when it came to his wife and children. Andrei, the gutless snake, had been waiting in the grass for years for Sweden to be left vulnerable enough to attack, seeking his revenge for the shame he had experienced at Swedish hands more than twenty years ago. Katia, his beautiful, stubborn, misguided girl had simply been used to make his vengeance that much sweeter.

Ambjorn continued to argue with Tero and Rikard. “The agreement with the King of Poland and the Holy Church requires that Prince Andrei live. Break the peace accord and we will be at war on yet another front.”

“Every man who has stood against my house will pay for what they have done to her. We collect our debt this very hour.” Magnus stepped forward to challenge Ambjorn.

“Far!” Katia, clutched the fur cloak tight around her throat. Magnus moved toward her instantly. She was pale and shaking, yet she spoke and every word from her was a blessing, reminding him that she lived.

“War, more men dying, is too high a price,” she said in a small voice, teeth chattering. “Andrei had me beaten. He was—he was about to—” Unable to take it any longer, Lothair shushed her, picked her up, and made a direct path to Magnus’ ship.

Magnus followed close behind.

“Oh, Lothair, why do you keep bothering to save me?” Katia wept. She looked back to Magnus.

“Far, do not break the peace because of me. If they beat me for my own stupidity, I deserve no better. Please, Far, no wars over me,” she pled.

Magnus growled in frustration. It was clear that he could not deny the request of his blood-smeared daughter.

Lothair looked to the heavens, grinding his teeth, not wanting to grant her this request, but much like Magnus, he was powerless to deny her anything while she was so broken and battered. Lothair placed Katia in Magnus’ arms and marched, blade in hand, in a direct path for Andrei, who now cowered at Rikard’s feet. Ambjorn stepped in front of him but was yanked out of the way by Magnus’ men.

Lothair slugged the prince in the face with his gloved fist. Andrei tumbled backwards and splayed out on his back on the grass, spitting teeth and blood from his mouth.

“Where is it? Where is her ring?” Lothair jerked him up by the collar. Without waiting for an answer, Lothair began tearing at Andrei’s garments. Eventually, he came up with a gold chain—from it dangled the Knutson family ring.

One final kick to the princes’ gut and the young baron was finished with Andrei, for now. He swiftly made his way back to his wife and father-in-law.

“Take her to her mother, Lothair,” Magnus commanded. Lothair nodded, picked her up tenderly, and carried her onto his ship.

Magnus looked out over the gulf, endeavoring to rein in his unsatisfied wrath. The winds were high and in their favor. If he placed a hundred men at the oars, Magnus could have the warship back to Tronscar before the sky released its final rays of light. The thought brought him a measure of composure.

“Ambjorn, you will take the prince to the agreed-upon tribunal in Lubeck, but I will have satisfaction. He must be made to pay,” Magnus said.

“I swear he will pay, Magnus. See to your family. I will remain and oversee the securing of the prisoners. The sooner they are out of Norrland waters, the sooner you will relax, cousin.” He slapped Magnus on the shoulder and Magnus jerked away.

He stormed over in the direction of Rikard and his men. “When Chief Urho has sorted out his people, ask him to come to me. Katia will not rest until she has seen with her own eyes that her brother is well. Aleksi, I ask you stay behind and give assistance to the young chief.”

“Aye, jarl,” Aleksi and Rikard said together, a hard look etched on both their faces.

The longship pushed off from the docks at Korski a few moments later. Magnus oversaw the oarsmen at work and kept a watchful eye on the bow. A healer was bent over the pallets of furs with Tero as they soothed and spoke to Katia. Lothair hovered above her, distraught.

Magnus sighed. “Oh, daughter, what have you done?”

***

The sky remained clear, the air crisp. The healer spoke to Tero quietly, telling him that Katia’s ribs were bruised, not broken, and her belly was rigid, yet the bleeding was lessening.

“Katia,” Lothair whispered in her ear. “Take what Tero has offered you for the pain.” He stroked her hair, trying to coax her to turn her head and look at him.

Silently, Katia was willing Lothair to go away and leave her. She did not deserve his touch, his soft, kind words.

“Katia! I said take the tonic!” Lothair said, less soothingly now, not that she blamed him. She deserved no better. She locked her limbs in place and refused herself the respite of the sleeping tonic, or the comfort of the soothing words.

She sentenced herself to pain.

“Damn you, Kat.” Lothair sat behind her, wrapping her between his arms and legs. He took her head and pushed it gently back to rest against his shoulder. “I know you can hear me, and I know you can speak. Stop being a child and take the tonic. Every part of you is black and blue.” He forced the tonic to her lips and pushed them open with the rim of the cup. “Stubborn little chit, drink!” Eventually, some of the liquid spilled down her throat, but she kept her eyes closed.

She finished the bitter draft and turned her face back into the fur covering. She would not allow herself to cry. She had no right to cry. She was a stupid chit that has never done anything of purpose or value.

***

Lothair couldn’t release her from his arms, even after the tonic took effect, mercifully taking her under into a more peaceful rest. He felt her muscles relax and her breathing even out.

“Will it work?” he asked the healer.

“She had lost much blood, but it slows,” the old man said. “She has lost the babe, my lord, but she is young. She will soon carry another.” He placed his hand on Lothair’s shoulder and squeezed in a fatherly gesture.

“Babe,” Lothair repeated dumbly. His lips felt numb.

“Aye, she is strong, this one,” the healer said. “She will heal and bear you many more sons. Fear not.” He left Lothair alone.

She had been with child—charged headfirst into battle to save her cursed half brother, offering up her life and the life of their child without . . .

He cursed bitterly into the wind. The realization that Katia would never change tore a hole in his chest. He tried to breathe.

Katia would live. She was strong, as the old healer said—but for how long, another month, another year? How many more times would she run from him? They had traveled thousands of miles, fought and slept side by side, and still he realized it would never be enough . . . he would never be enough for her.

She would never trust him, never rely on him, never turn to him, Lothair realized. That was the cold, hard truth of loving Katia: Lothair would never be able to keep her safe.

Gazing down at her, he whispered, “I can’t stand beside you and watch you throw your life away again. I won’t. My failure to earn your trust has enabled you to continue in your recklessness.” A tear ran down his face. “May God forgive me.”

Lothair was decided. He must yield his claim to the iron princess, and leave her where she had the best chance of survival: Norrland.

Lothair hesitated before setting the marriage contract down on the table in Magnus’s study.

“You have the authority and grounds to sue the church for an annulment based on the fraudulent manner in which I obtained your daughter’s signature.” Lothair stood in front of the jarl.

Magnus picked up the documents and examined them. “You do not bother to seek my approval in entering into an arrangement with my daughter, yet you seek my assistance in ending it.” He tossed the document back.

Lothair kept his voice even and respectful. “I depart for Lubeck. Your wife informs me Katia’s life is no longer in any danger.” He swallowed painfully hard. “Katia refuses to see me, even speak to me. She has made her desire to be free of this contract clear to you in the past.”

The jarl sighed loudly, leaned back in his chair, and laced his fingers together, inspecting his son-in-law. “Lothair, sit.”

Lothair sat.

“Katia needs time. Her mother has informed me she took the loss of the babe very hard. She will be in mourning for a considerable amount of time, and when she emerges, she will want another babe. I understand your impatience, my son, but give her more time,” Magnus said.

Lothair struggled to form words against the strain of so many emotions.

Lothair stood up. This conversation was only postponing the inevitable. “I have tried to keep her safe and I have failed—several times. I cannot stay here and wait for her to run headlong into the next battle. Perhaps if she were to find a husband that she respected more, she would be better off. I thank you for your hospitality, Magnus.” Lothair thrust out his hand.

Magnus accepted the hand. “Her character was formed before you wed. You are not at fault.”

Lothair looked down. “If I may ever be of assistance to you or your family, Jarl Magnus, I offer you my continuing support and alliance.” Lothair turned and walked out the door without looking back.

***

“It is for the best.” Katia pressed her face into her pillow.

Her grandmother sat down on the bed and rubbed her shoulders. “My love, do not lie to your linens. In one’s own bed, a woman should be truthful in all things.”

“Grandma, I want to sleep. Please . . .” Katia sniffled. “I will be well enough to come downstairs tomorrow.”

It had been seven days since Lothair had left. Fourteen days since he’d last held her, and sixteen days since he’d last made love to her. She had just cause to weep bitterly.

“Oh, my love. Even if I could remove this pain from you, I would not,” her grandmother said.

“What!” Katia flipped over.

“Socrates said, ‘
True wisdom comes to each of us when we realize how little we understand about life, ourselves, and the world around us.
’ See, if I removed this pain and mended your broken heart, you would learn nothing and need to start all over again.”

“I must be the wisest woman in the world then.” Katia flopped back on her bed and groaned with the residual pain from her rib cage. She deserved that.

“My love, in your hour of pain and sorrow, you will not truly hear these words, but later I hope that they will root in your heart.”

“Grandmother, perhaps you should go spend time with the boys. Do not waste more of your wisdom on me. I break everything and everyone that I have ever loved. Leave me, please.”

“
Pathei mathos
, my love. Suffer and learn. If you never open your heart to anyone or anything, you will be safe from both. But if you have loved just one person in your life, you must expect to suffer. They come hand in hand.”

“Then I have made the right choice. I will stay in this chamber for the rest of my life and love no one more and hurt no one more.”

“Courage, my love. Take your rest, nurse your wounded heart, and dive into life again when you are ready.”

Katia wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve. “Oh, Grandmother, I have ruined everything. I embarrass my family at every turn, I risk my friends . . . I did not protect Lothair’s babe. What must he think of me?” Another storm of tears beset her.

“Sweet girl. That is a sorrow that will never wane.”

“I did not know—I was not paying any attention. I missed my courses, was sick in the morn, but still I did not pay attention. Lothair will never forgive me and nor should he. I lied to the man that had given up everything to protect me. I have done nothing but bring misery to the man I love.”

Her grandmother wrapped Katia in her arms. “If he left you after you had told him all this, oh my love, perhaps the man is not worthy of you after all.”

Katia pulled away. “It is I who am unworthy. Lothair would never have left if I had not pushed him away. I did not want him to be stuck with me one moment longer.”

Her grandmother pulled back. “You mean you never told him how you felt? That you felt unworthy, that you loved him?”

Katia looked down, ashamed. “I could not look at him after how he found me. I was so ashamed.”

“Well, get over it.”

Katia gasped. “Grandmother!”

“That was the best advice I ever received in my life.” Her grandmother released a haughty sigh. “I believe it is time you hear the story of how your grandfather and I were wed. He was my mother’s guard. Did you know that? My mother was very selective about such things. I had teased Heliki for years, but deep down I was always in love with him. I knew we could never be together, so I chose to torment him with flirtatious glances instead of treating him with any respect.”

Katia could not believe her ears.

“The night my father and brother were slain, my murderous cousin kidnapped me and held me captive for three weeks. He defiled me, cut my hair, and stripped me to rags. Your grandfather rescued me and I—” She clasped her wrinkled, shaking hand to her breast, reliving the memory. Katia wrapped her arm around her grandmother’s shoulder.

“When your grandfather found me, I wanted to die. Such a handsome face, such pained eyes staring at me. I felt humiliated, ashamed, less than worthless. I was to blame, you see—I let my cousin into my chamber even though I knew I shouldn’t—I thought I knew better than my sister. I ignored my inner voice and listened to the flattering words of a snake. I am still haunted by my actions that night . . .” Her words trailed off and she looked out the window for a long, silent moment.

“My mother assigned her guard to escort me away, to hide my pregnancy. Your grandfather offered to wed me and I refused, saying that I would not have him, but really, it was because I felt worthless and ruined. I had resigned to birth your uncle—the babe was innocent, of course—and then I decided I would politely and promptly die. That’s when your grandfather told me to ‘get over it.’ I think his exact words were ‘get your head out of your pretty, padded backside and get on with living.’ For the first years of our marriage, he loved me enough for the both of us, until I got over myself and started living with my head held high again.” Katia’s grandmother took in a deep breath.

“If you love this Lothair fellow, and if he is as handsome and dashing as your mother says he is, then you really will be a chit for letting him go.”

Katia sat up in bed. In two minutes her entire understanding of her grandmother had turned on its head. “But . . . he doesn’t want me anymore. He left.”

“Go get him back.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is. If you won his devotion once, you can do it again. Let your heart be your guide on this one. Nothing risked, nothing gained. He sounds to me like the type to be worthy of a great deal of risk.”

Katia’s heart hammered against her hollow chest. She had not eaten in days. She looked down at her rail-thin figure. What man wanted to take a rail to bed? She’d pierce him with her protruding hipbones.

She flicked back the bedsheet and strode across the chamber to the tray her grandmother had brought up. She snatched up a leg of roasted chicken and tore into it.