Einar regarded his companion in surprise. ‘Wouldn’t it be easier to leave him unconscious?’
‘No, I want him to be fully aware of what’s happening to him.’
Although he smiled, the prince’s tone sent a shiver through Astrid. Nor was there any trace of compassion in the steely eyes. The churning sensation in her stomach grew stronger and her hands clenched on the arm of the chair.
Moments later a man returned with a bucket. He dashed the contents over Leif. The injured man groaned and stirred. Astrid bit her lip, torn between anxiety and relief that he wasn’t dead. She darted a look at the men who stood around him. She didn’t recognise any of them—they weren’t attached to her uncle’s retinue. Nevertheless, it took no more than a second to know what they were: sea wolves who fought only for gain and whose loyalty was to the highest payer. Their attention was currently on the prisoner, their expressions feral, each face lit with cruel anticipation.
* * *
A second bucket of water brought Leif to consciousness. For a moment or two he was disorientated, unaware of anything save a crashing headache and pain in his face and ribs. Slowly he became aware of more details: the soiled rushes pressed against his cheek, the smell of stale food and dogs. He tried to move his limbs but couldn’t.
‘Get him up on his knees.’
The voice sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. Then calloused hands seized his arms and hauled him up. He winced as his injuries protested.
‘It’s good to have you back with us, Jarl Leif,’ the voice continued. ‘I should hate you to miss any of this.’
Leif frowned, and looked in the direction of the speaker. With a jolt of recognition he knew who it was.
‘Hakke.’
The prince smiled. ‘Indeed. May I say I’ve been looking forward to this for some time.’
‘We all have,’ said Jarl Einar.
Leif’s gaze flicked that way and his gut tightened as the implications began to dawn. Then, with a sense of shock, he saw who was sitting next to Hakke. For a moment his gaze locked with Astrid’s. She looked pale but, as far as he could tell, she seemed unharmed.
The focus of his attention didn’t go unnoticed. ‘You have good taste, my lord, I’ll say that for you,’ said Hakke. ‘But then, a big fish requires special bait.’ He smiled at Astrid. ‘You have played your part to perfection, my dear.’
She opened her mouth to speak but Leif was before her. ‘What part? What are you talking about?’
‘Your interest there hasn’t gone unnoticed. A beautiful woman is a reliable lure, in this case outstanding. Well done, my lady. Without you we could not have brought him here.’
Leif frowned, his gaze locking with Astrid’s. ‘What does he mean?’
She paled a little more. ‘It means nothing, I swear it.’
‘It means you have been tricked, my lord, and easily too,’ said Hakke. ‘Still, you are not the first to fall for a pretty face and I don’t suppose you’ll be the last.’
Leif glared at him. ‘It’s a lie!’
‘And yet here we are.’
The outwardly pleasant tone belied the enormity that lay behind those words. It fuelled Leif’s anger. Such treachery was impossible, inconceivable. He looked again at Astrid.
She shook her head. ‘You mustn’t believe him, Leif.’
Hakke raised an eyebrow. ‘You are too modest, my lady. After all, it was your message that brought him here tonight.’
Her face went as white as bleached linen as the extent of the game became apparent and, along with that, her unwitting part in it. Her anguished gaze met Leif’s. In it she read anger and something frighteningly like doubt. Surely he couldn’t have swallowed those lies? He must know she would never have done such a thing; that they were using her for their own ends.
She shook her head. ‘That’s not—’
‘Not what he was expecting,’ interrupted Hakke.
Leif’s head thumped painfully. His mind was in turmoil, fighting against Hakke’s words. Astrid could not have done this. She wanted to leave; to escape an unwelcome marriage. There had to be another explanation.
‘Your presumption with regard to the Lady Astrid will be dealt with in due course,’ Hakke went on. ‘In the meantime, I have other bones to pick with you, my lord, beginning with the deaths of my brothers.’
‘They fell in battle,’ replied Leif, ‘and died with swords in their hands.’
‘They fell because of Halfdan Svarti’s greed. He wants Vingulmark and doesn’t care what he has to do to take it.’
‘Had you and your brothers not ambushed him and tried to kill him he might not have been so eager for that confrontation.’
‘We did but defend what was ours.’ Hakke’s eyes glinted. ‘Speaking of which, you have lately robbed me of my bride.’
‘The bride you kidnapped and intended to force into wedlock.’
‘Ragnhild was mine.’
‘Yet she was only too happy to be saved from that fate,’ said Leif.
Hakke’s gaze grew colder. ‘Nothing is going to save you from yours, I promise you.’
‘Then kill me and have done with it.’
‘I have no wish to kill you, my lord. Far from it. I wish you to live for a long time yet, and each day that you live you will think of me.’
The knot in Leif’s gut tightened. ‘What do you mean to do?’
‘I am delivering you into Jarl Einar’s safe keeping, as his bondsman.’
‘Never!’
‘Perhaps we need to put you in the right frame of mind for your new role.’ Hakke snapped his fingers. ‘Fetch the shears.’
A servant returned with the blades. They were the type kept for clipping sheep, sharp-edged and with wicked points. He handed them to one of the men standing guard over Leif. Hakke nodded.
‘Crop his hair in the manner befitting a slave.’
The words were greeted with a mocking cheer that drowned out Astrid’s cry of protest. In rage and desperation Leif fought his bonds but they yielded not a whit. Seconds later his captors flung him face down on the floor and a boot between his shoulders held him there. A large hand grabbed hold of his hair, yanking his head back. Then the shears went to work. By the time they had finished all that remained of the flowing mane was an inch of golden stubble. The audience thumped the table in approval.
Hakke nodded. ‘Now the collar.’
‘No!’
