‘King Ricsige has died.’
Rurik knew of the struggles Northumbria had faced to keep itself from falling entirely to the Danes and Norse, but he did not know precisely why this news seemed particularly disagreeable to her. To him it was inevitable that the Danes would install their own ruler who was not Saxon.
‘Did you know him well?’ he asked.
‘I had not met him.’
‘Did you—’
‘If you will come with me, I can take you to Wilfrid before we have our meal in the hall.’
This was obviously a subject she did not want to speak with him about, so Rurik kept silent and gave her a nod of assent. ‘Lead the way, Lady Annis.’
His tone was meant to provoke her and he was thrilled to get a slight roll of her eyes in response. She turned on her heel and headed out of the room, and his eyes had free rein to roam down the length of her strong and graceful back to the sway of her hips. In his abundant free time in the chamber, he had imagined that backside more than he wanted to admit.
She glanced over her shoulder, catching him, and her cheeks pinkened, but she did not reprimand his wandering eyes. The knowledge settled deep within his chest and warmed him. Perhaps she had stayed away because she had felt their connection. It was the first time he had allowed his thoughts to go in that direction and the result was too pleasing for him to allow them to linger there. He could not forget that this connection between them was only temporary and only to serve a purpose.
With that in mind, he forced himself to stop looking at her. Instead, he took in the wide corridor. More men were stationed here than last time. Aside from the two outside his door, there appeared to be two at either end of the corridor to block an escape attempt. There were also two at Wilfrid’s door. Rurik had no doubt there were others he could not see. He felt naked and exposed without his weapons, making him realise how much trust was implicit in this captor/captive relationship they had.
She paused outside the old man’s door and looked up at him. Her eyes were wide with uncertainty and a suspicious shimmer. ‘Please do not tell him who you are. I beg you.’
He put his hand on the door to disguise that he had almost touched her to comfort her. ‘I will adhere to our agreement, but I do need answers.’
She nodded, but then tilted her head to the side as she studied him more intently. ‘What do you think you will do with these answers once you have them?’
‘I will find the assassins and kill them,’ he answered, matter-of-factly.
‘And then what will you do?’
He paused, not quite certain what she meant.
His confusion must have shown on his face, because she elaborated. ‘If they are dead, your father will not be brought back to life, nor will the others.’
‘Ah, but my goal is not to bring them back. It is in part to punish those responsible.’
Her brow creased. ‘And what is the other part?’
‘To help clear the way for my brother Brandt to take back what should be his.’
‘And what if you find these people you are killing have families?’
‘I assume that most people have families of some sort. It did not stop these men from bringing terror and death to my home and family.’
She stared at him and he wasn’t certain how, but he got the distinct feeling that he had disappointed her. He did not like that feeling. It settled heavy on his shoulders and in the pit of his stomach.
‘The doors,’ she said to the guards and the doors to Wilfrid’s chamber were opened. ‘After you.’
Chapter Thirteen
Rurik walked into Wilfrid’s chamber to find the man sitting at the same table as the first night with the wooden game board before him. He was not as lively as that night. He sat a bit slumped in his chair with a brow furrowed as he stared down at the pieces. Something had changed and Rurik would bet his life that it was more than the death of a king. Or perhaps it was what the King’s death meant.
‘Father, I have brought the Norseman as you requested,’ said Annis.
So he was the Norseman again instead of Rurik. Interesting.
Wilfrid looked up and his eyes brightened slightly at the sight of them both. Raising a hand, he beckoned them over. The knuckles on that hand were swollen and red, while the fingers on his unusable hand were bent in on themselves. His skin was ashen, the only colour in his face around his eyes.
‘Good evening,’ he said in his usual laborious speech.
‘Good evening.’ Rurik walked over and took the chair across from him. Annis followed, but she hung back, almost as if she were watching them rather than planning to participate in the conversation.
They sat in silence for a moment, until Rurik reached forward and moved one of the figures. Wilfrid’s chuckle started deep in his chest and never managed to make its way out before subsiding. He swiped the figure from the board. It rankled to play so poorly, but Rurik reminded himself that he was doing this only for the man’s amusement which he hoped would eventually get him to discuss Maerr. Rurik moved again and this time Wilfrid did not react so happily. Slightly mollified, Rurik sat back in the chair only to look up to see the old man watching him.
‘I am sorry you lost your father.’ The words were a bit garbled, so Rurik did not quite believe what he heard. He glanced at Annis whose eyes were wide. She slowly walked forward, her hand
