‘He is not an invalid!’
‘Isn’t he? God knows that I love him more than my own family, but we cannot continue in this vein. Wilfrid cannot make sound decisions as he once could. You and I have been working on his behalf. If it were just us, then I would say that we could continue.’ He paused and the slight wobble in his voice had gone when he spoke again. ‘But it is not only about us. We have all Glannoventa to consider. The people—farmers, fisherman, even children, Annis. Think of them, if no one else. You have the responsibility to make certain that their futures are secure.’
Flushed with anger, she rose. ‘Of course I am thinking of the children, and their parents, and the barren, and the very old, and even the criminals. All of them matter to me. Glannoventa has thrived in recent years. Our fields are fertile and our lakes are bountiful. No one is hungry.’
‘That is precisely why we must act now.’
‘Why? I am perfectly capable. Glannoventa is thriving because of me.’
Cedric shook his head. ‘But it will not matter. You will not be allowed to rule alone. Jarl Eirik has made this clear. Whoever this new King is, he will almost certainly not agree to you ruling alone. Glannoventa is ripe and, while we have been left alone in the past, we will not be left alone now. One side will claim Glannoventa, which means that one side will claim you. Now is your chance. You will either have a husband forced upon you, or you can choose your husband now and pre-empt them.
‘Which will it be?’
‘That will not happen, Cedric.’ She shook her head emphatically, as if that would help make her words true. ‘We can make an arrangement with the Danes. If Jarl Eirik comes—’
‘When, child, not if. Jarl Eirik has likely already heard of King Ricsige’s death. Make no mistake. He may even now be on his way.’
A shiver of unease ran through her, but she held her shoulders straight anyway. ‘When he comes, I will explain to him. He cannot deny success when it is right before his eyes.’
Cedric struck the table with the flat of his hand, but he did not refute her.
‘I must go and see to the messenger’s care. Excuse me.’ Angry and hurt that Cedric would give her advice that would betray everything she had worked for during Wilfrid’s illness, she left the room.
It was strange how the morning had started with such a feeling of well-being and peace, only to disintegrate in less than an hour. The King’s death was ominous, but it was not as dire as Cedric made it seem. Annis was certain that Jarl Eirik would be content to allow her to rule. The alternative was unthinkable.
To Rurik’s frustration, he had been largely ignored for the day. The accommodations were vastly improved from the cage, but with no access to Annis, he was making no progress towards his goal. At least he was left with the run of his chamber and someone brought him meals, but he was greeted with stony silence when he demanded to see Annis.
He was perplexed to admit that he was a bit hurt by her absence. Their night together had seemed to have forged a connection, at least in his mind, but apparently not hers. He told himself that it was not the connection he missed, but the progress he had made in gaining her trust and co-operation, except even he did not believe the lie.
She interested him in a way no one ever had. He had never met anyone with her particular mix of boldness and vulnerability and he was not one to hide himself away from things that he did not understand. Only, in this case, the person in question seemed to be hiding from him.
Rurik rose to his feet when he heard the click of the door being unlocked. Even though it was early in the evening, his stomach grumbled in expectation of the evening meal, but he ignored it. He had already decided that he would refuse all food until Annis came to see him. It was either that or attack his guards and force his way out. While that option held its own allure, it would not tell him the names of the assassins he sought. Annis was strong, but her obvious guilt at keeping a prisoner was a weakness he planned to exploit. It was in his best interest to play the mild prisoner, for now.
Instead of food, the woman herself stepped inside. She was wearing a violet frock made of the finest wool he had ever seen. Despite himself, he took in the pleasing way the fabric clung to the curves of her hips.
‘Wilfrid has requested your presence.’
He met her gaze at that, but her eyes were hooded. Strange. There was something she was not saying. Experience had taught him that a direct question would not get him to the bottom of that mystery, so he simply nodded instead of asking why she had avoided him.
‘Good. Is he ill?’
A flash of pain crossed her features before it was quickly extinguished. ‘Not ill, but tired.’
‘Has something happened?’ The question was out before he could stop it. ‘I only ask because I thought I would be given more access to him.’ He did not want to remind her of their deal, but he could not deny the flicker of annoyance that threatened to become a full-blown fire within him. Even a day wasted was too much.
She opened her mouth to speak, gave
