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‘Sayrid, I marry a woman, not a man. Find a dress.’
Sayrid stared at him uncomprehending. ‘A dress?’
‘You do own a dress…don’t you?’
Sayrid released a breath and offered a prayer up to all goddesses in the Aesir and Vanir. At last, a way to postpone the evil day with dignity. Hrolf wanted to marry a properly dressed bride. His request made sense given the finery he wore. She could use it, buy time and find a solution to the mess. Somehow she’d discover what he truly wanted before she started believing that he wanted her. It wasn’t over until the ceremony was done.
‘My best dress is at home. What a pity. We will have to name another day when I can be attired in the sort of clothes fit for a sea king’s bride.’
‘Borrow one.’ A glint showed in his eye as he raked her form. ‘Or come naked. But I marry a woman. Today.’
Renewed anger flooded through her. Why in the name of Freya did he want to marry her? And why did it have to be today?
‘Every other woman is smaller than me by at least a full head.’
His smile became positively merciless. ‘That is not my problem. You do as I command.’
She stood toe to toe with him. ‘Or what?’
‘Or I will have you and anyone who helps declared outlaw and all their lands forfeit as well as yours.’ He bowed low. ‘Your choice, Sayrid Avildottar. Time to decide. Do you actually care about your family and the people who work the land? Or do you just care about yourself?’
Chapter Four
‘How could he do this? Wasn’t it enough to win and take my land? Why does he have to humiliate me further?’
Sayrid stomped around the narrow hut where she had retired after Hrolf had delivered his ultimatum. Regin had attempted to console her, telling her to look for the positives but she had growled at him. She wanted to wallow, instead of being falsely cheerful or coming up with impossible plans of escape. Regin beat a hasty retreat.
‘Come dressed as a woman or naked,’ she said, swinging her arms back and forth. ‘Marry today or forfeit everything you hold most dear in this life. He is a sea king through and through, completely full of treachery.’
‘Can you blame him?’ her sister asked with a laugh. ‘You’ve escaped from tighter situations before. Or were they simply stories for after supper?’
‘It wasn’t an empty threat, Auda. Hrolf Eymundsson would have taken great pleasure in stripping all my clothing from me in front of everyone.’
‘Then your clothing had better be disposed of, in case you get ideas,’ Blodvin said.
‘And what do you propose I wear? This?’ Sayrid gestured to the apron dress she now wore. Blodvin’s dress would have been too small on a normal-sized woman but on Sayrid it barely reached her calves.
‘It is one of my favourites,’ Blodvin protested.
‘It is just as well Blodvin brought another dress in case her first choice clashed with the tapestry at the feast,’ Auda said in placating tone.
‘I can barely breathe, even with the bodice being let out. And yellow makes me look sallow. My stepmother always said that and it is the absolute truth.’
‘Hold still, sister, while we fix your hair. You might not have a crown, but Blodvin found some flowers.’ Auda held up a mixture of yellow and white daisies. ‘They will go well in your hair.’
‘Going bareheaded is as bad as going naked,’ Blodvin argued. ‘Have some pride in your appearance.’
Sayrid clenched her fists and longed to hit something. Very hard.
Auda’s eyes welled up. ‘Please, be good and do this for me. I have longed to see my big sister as a bride. The wedding will be wonderful and Hrolf is a very lucky man to have won you as a bride. But people will think it odd if you fail to wear a crown. The flowers are the best I can do.’
Sayrid stared up at the ceiling. Refusing either of her siblings was impossible. She had to do this for the honour of their house. ‘Oh, very well. I don’t want you upset, but I warn you—the words “gigantic flower-topped beanpole” will not be far from people’s lips.’
She crouched down and allowed the other two women to twine the flowers in her hair. They both exclaimed loudly how lovely she looked.
‘Everyone will laugh at me.’ Sayrid bit her lip. For once in her life she wanted to look normal, instead of being the person she was—overgrown with less grace than a cow on a bad day.
‘No one will dare to laugh and you’re only in a bad mood because you lost,’ Auda remarked. ‘Admit it. You expected to win. You expected to grind him into the dirt and he wriggled free at the final instant.’
