The king let loose a long string of expletives, then snarled out, “And you can be sure that I will let the emperor and all his Greek underlings know that I am unhappy with how his court failed to protect my daughter. The Byzantines rely on an ongoing supply of Norsemen for their Varangian Guard. If I let it be known that a princess of the Norselands was so abused, believe you me, he will have to look elsewhere for replacements.”
She started to say, “Now, Father—”
But he cut her off. “Another thing, daughter, do not think I am so feeble that I am ready for a straw death yet. Bahir the Bastard will die, and soon. It does not take an entire hird to accomplish that goal. And the blood eagle he will suffer, too.”
Which meant that he was sending soldiers to do the job for him, probably in the disguise of traders. She couldn’t argue with that.
But enough for now! Her father’s color was getting high. She and Vana exchanged glances, both agreeing it was time to change the subject.
“It has been two months, sister. Dost think Sidroc will still come?” Vana asked.
That wasn’t quite the change of subject she wanted, but Drifa nodded. “Unless something has happened to him, he will come for Runa.” She had already told Runa of her father, and the girling was anxious to meet him, although Drifa wasn’t sure she really understood what having a father would mean to her. Just another person to do her bidding, Drifa supposed. “Will he bring presents?” was Runa’s biggest concern.
“Does Sidroc not come for you, too?” Vana interrupted Drifa’s musing.
Vana had trouble believing any man would disdain Drifa’s favor. A biased sister’s view.
“He said naught of that when last I saw him.”
“How could he say aught when you were screaming at him?” Ivar offered.
“Where do your loyalties lay, Ivar?” she snapped.
“You wound me with your words,” Ivar said. “Have I ever been disloyal to you?”
She ducked her head. “Mayhap not.”
“Besides, you misread Sidroc. Methinks he cares for you.”
“Care, care, care!” She threw her hands in the air. “Who wants ‘care’?”
Everyone stared at her as if she’d gone barmy.
“Do you want the man, Drifa? I will get him for you, if he is your choice for husband.” Her father patted her arm with comfort.
“Don’t you dare! I will not have a man forced to marry me.”
“You would let your pride stand in the way of keeping your daughter?” Vana posed the question softly, but it stung nonetheless.
“You above all others know what it’s like to be wed without love,” Drifa pointed out. Vana’s first husband had been a cruel man. No love there, but a far cry from Sidroc, and their situation. Drifa immediately wished she hadn’t made the comparison.
“You could always go with Sidroc as his mistress to stay close to the child,” Ivar suggested.
“What?” she exclaimed with affront.
“What?” Ivar repeated back at her. “His bed furs were not objectionable to you in the past.”
A silence pervaded the group as Ivar’s words sank in.
Belatedly realizing what his loose tongue had revealed, Ivar groaned.
She cringed.
And her father did the least expected thing. He smiled. “That settles it. If the man has taken your maidenhead, he will wed you, or face the flavor of my wrath.”
“Father! I am twenty and nine years old, soon to be thirty. What matters if my maidenhead is lost from carnal use, or lost by withering away from lack of use.”
Vana giggled behind her hand.