“Well?” she asked, her voice low. “What do you intend to do with me, my lord?”
Ragnar didn’t answer right away, his mind too busy turning, wondering what the pair of them could do together with nothing more than a mattress and a week’s supply of food and water. So she yawned, using it as an excuse to lift her shackled hands over her head and stretch her entire body in one long, sinuous line. Then she smiled. The most seductive of smiles that Ragnar had ever seen. He almost hated her for that smile alone.
Ragnar waved his hand, and the shackles fell away, one of them slamming against the top of the royal’s head.
“Ow! You barbaric oaf!”
He almost laughed because there she was. The true spoiled royal, and the reason it had been necessary to shackle her in the first place. She’d tried running away several times during their journey, and Ragnar had gotten fed up with it. She had nowhere to go so far underground, so all she’d managed to do was delay them.
Ragnar turned from her and headed toward the exit. He was hungry and longed for sleep. He had a meeting with the queen in a few hours, and he needed at least a little rest.
“Wait.”
He stopped, sighed, and faced her. “What?”
She stood, pointed at the collar around her throat. “What about this?”
“It will fall off once you’re clear of this place and my kin.” The last thing he needed was for her to turn into her natural form here, now, sending his kin into new feats of stupidity once they got a good look at her tail.
“Now go.”
“That’s it? But…what did you get for me?”
“Get for you?”
“From my kin? How much gold?” She lifted her chin. “I’m sure I was worth quite a lot, but that won’t protect you from my brothers when they find out what you did to me.”
“I rescued you.”
“I rescued myself. But nice try.”
Did she really think his father would have let her go? Did she really think Olgeir wouldn’t have caught her before she got off Horde territory?
And Ragnar’s father did things the Old Way when challenged. Princess Keita would have lost at least one wing and been handed over to the most brutish of Ragnar’s kin as retribution for her escape. In the end, she would have ended up just like Ragnar’s mother. The only difference being that Ragnar’s mother was the epitome of class and breeding and a good mind.
Princess Keita, however, was everything royals were rumored to be. Weak, silly, and a waste of Ragnar’s time and energy. No matter how gorgeous or enticing.
“Call it what you like,” he told her. “But either way, you can go.”
“Just like that?”“Yes. Just like that.”
She went up on her toes, trying to peer around his shoulders. “Is there no one here to escort me?”
“No.” He would offer one of his cousins, but that would be a bad idea right now.
The royal studied him for several long moments until she slammed her hands on her hips. “What did that old cow give you to release me? And don’t lie, barbarian. I always know when I’m being lied to.” She didn’t want him to lie, he wouldn’t. “She gave me nothing.”
“So no alliance?” She shook her head as if she pitied him. “You idiot.”
Ragnar blinked. “Pardon?”
“How could you be so stupid? Were you rude to her? Was that it?
Gods, you really are as oafish as your father, aren’t you?” There were no other words she could have said to cause more damage than those.
Completely oblivious, she raised her hands and said, “Don’t panic.
I’m sure I can fix it. I’ll talk to my father. I’m sure I can convince him to—”
“No, no, my lady. You misunderstand.” And Ragnar couldn’t help smiling a little. “Your mother made no offer for you, but the alliance will still move forward. I meet her in a few hours to discuss details.”
Her arms fell to her sides. “The alliance is still in play?”
“Oh yes. The queen didn’t seem interested in you at all, though.
Perhaps if I’d taken your sister instead. Morfyd the…White? Yes? Perhaps then things would have played out differently. But, as it is, you’ve had no effect whatsoever on the proceedings.”
The royal stared at him, her beautiful mouth opening and closing several times. Ragnar felt as if he’d struck her—and was appalled by it.
Immediately he went toward her to soothe, terrified he’d see tears, and he didn’t know how to handle tears. But the royal didn’t cry…she screamed.
She screamed like something that had crawled out of a demon pit.
“That vicious cunty whore! ”
Shocked, Ragnar took a step back and watched the royal pace, her arms waving dramatically over her head, while she called her own mother all sorts of vile names that even the worst pirates would never use.
His kin charged into the cavern, concerned something had happened to their delicate little princess, all of them halting by Ragnar’s side.
“I’d kill the bitch myself if I actually thought she’d stay dead! But demons live forever.” She faced them. “ Don’t they? ” All but Ragnar nodded at her insane bellowing, and when she swung her arms wildly at them, screaming, “All of you— out of my way!” they all did as she bade.
She stormed out, but returned a moment later, her rage seemingly—and disturbingly—gone as she asked Ragnar, “You enjoyed telling me that—about my mother. Didn’t you?”