Page 56 of Lord of Fire and Ice

“A word in private before you do that, princess,” Brandr said.

“Are you trying to give me advice, thrall?”

He nodded. “And I think you’d rather hear it away from so many other ears.”

Without waiting for her word, he opened the door to her chamber and strode through the portal. She followed.

“What is it?”

“If you intend to strike off my iron collar, you’d better give me that order first,” Brandr said gruffly.

She frowned at him in puzzlement.

“The order to wed you,” Brandr supplied. “I didn’t court you. I didn’t ask to be included as one of your choices. The gods know once I’m free I’ll be gone.”

For a blink, her mouth turned down, and her eyes glittered with more moisture than necessary.

“You intend to leave once you’re freed?”

“My father is dead. My brother’s ill. I’m needed at home,” he said simply. “You don’t need or want me here.”

Ask me to stay. He willed her to hear the words he wouldn’t give voice. Need me, Katla. Want me.

She gazed at him so intently he wondered for a moment if she were trying to witch him so she could divine his secret thoughts. But if she did, they didn’t seem to mean a thing to her.

“If that’s how you want matters, so be it,” she finally said with same crisp efficiency with which she did everything. Simple. Straightforward. Cold. “We’ll strike the collar after the wedding, then. And I’ll shove the coracle off for you myself.”

***

Preparing for a wedding usually took a good deal more time. There were final agreements to be hammered out, preparations for a bridal feast, and invitations sent to neighboring farmsteads. A bridal crown of dried straw and wheat needed to be woven. A circle of earth was cleared and ringed with smooth stones to serve as the place for the ceremony. Ale and mead were brewed in abundance.

It should have taken weeks. Katla rallied her people and got it all done in five days. Katla the Black and Brandr Ulfson would wed on Friday, the most auspicious day of the week for marriages to begin. Katla didn’t care whether their union would be blessed by the goddess Frig or not. Friday was just the soonest she could arrange. The sooner this was done and her life back to normal, the better.

Everyone in the household pitched in, even Katla’s brothers. Finn wouldn’t tell her what he and Brandr agreed to for a bridal price, but it must have been more than satisfactory, since none of her brothers complained to her.

But occasionally, Katla stumbled upon the last bits of conversation, which instantly dried up when the speakers realized she was there. It was an open secret that her people thought her daft to marry a thrall, even one as well favored and evidently as well born as Brandr Ulfson. The fact that he was the son of a jarl resurfaced as grist for the gossip mill, but it didn’t expunge the taint of iron around his neck.

“And besides, she took him as her thrall in the first place to avenge Osvald,” one man said. “How does making Ulfson her husband satisfy the need for vengeance?”

“You’ve never been married, have you, Snorri?” came one wag’s reply.

Their ringing laughter died when Katla showed herself. She steeled herself not to care what anyone thought. She would wed Brandr and he would leave and life would go on.

And that was exactly as she’d have it.

The nagging emptiness in her chest damned her as a liar, but she wasn’t about to show her true feelings. Especially when she resisted naming them, even to herself.

The morning of the ceremony, she was led to the bath house by a group of women for her ritual purification. It was the first time she’d had company in the bath since that day she’d shared it with Brandr. Surrounded by her women, Katla felt less alone than she had in years.

They gave her giggling advice about how to keep a happy home, and secret ways to please a man.

“Sometimes, a man can’t seem to finish his business, if you catch my meaning. If you want to bring the matter to an end, just you stick your tongue in his ear, dearie,” Gerte said. “That’ll do, see if it don’t.”

“But why would you want it to end?” one of the younger women asked, clearly mystified.

“Wait till you’ve a whole gaggle of children and a load of work waiting for you the next day,” Gerte said. “Sleep is every bit as fine as a man’s big thing between your legs. Even better sometimes.”

“But if the man’s as well favored as Brandr Ulfson, who wouldn’t give up a little sleep?”