My arrow embedded itself in the temple of an English soldier, his sword poised to strike.

To strike down Askeladd from the back.

Askeladd's eyes flicked from the lifeless body at his feet to me, perched on the hill with the other archers. His contemplative sharp eyes narrowed in on where I crouched, knowing fully it was me.

He didn't need my help; his reflexes were razor-sharp, and he could have easily evaded the blow and dispatched the soldier himself.

But I couldn't resist the urge to mock him for my "heroic" intervention.

I flipped him off, a gesture of revenge for earlier when, just before the fighting broke out, Askeladd had walked by my crouched form and smacked me over the head for chatting with Thorfinn instead of shooting arrows into the incoming soldiers.

Consider that my payback, asshole.

And for his earlier comment—or rather, command—to Thorfinn, that really pissed me off.

Then I shifted my aim to another soldier charging at Thorfinn. Unlike Askeladd, Thorfinn didn't look up when my arrow struck a soldier near him. He fought on, his short swords slicing toward the necks of the English soldiers with practiced ease.

The scene unsettled me, but I kept my silence for the time being.

I had to remind myself that these English soldiers were destined to meet their end, with or without Thorfinn's and my meddling.

They were going to die anyways.

They were going to die …

Though he was still fuming over my decision to join Askeladd's crew, we reached an uneasy truce. It helped that I had flipped him onto his stomach in a skirmish, proving once and for all that I wasn't the weakling he took me for. The look on his face was priceless—like a bear, or maybe more like a wolverine in his short case, who'd just realized he'd been outsmarted by a rabbit.

"If you're planning to kill Askeladd, Thorfinn, this isn't the way to do it. Really, dude?"

"W-what the fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

"Don't sweat it... dude."

"G-get off me!"

I poked his exposed cheek, the one not smooshed against the floor. Beneath him, of course, because I was lounging on his back, cross-legged like I was having a casual afternoon tea break -- on Thorfinn's back.

Sitting on his back after our little skirmish had wrapped up neatly.

I guess it was bound to happen. Tomorrow, we'd be skipping out of this settlement with Askeladd and his merry band of miscreants, and Thorfinn needed to get one crucial tidbit into that thick skull of his before we left.

That I was part of Askeladd's crew.

And Thorfinn needed to grasp why I would be taking orders from Askeladd, despite my deep-seated hatred for the man. Predictably, when I broke the news to Thorfinn, he reacted like a cat tossed into a bathtub.

He flew into a rage, belligerent to the point where it felt like all the progress I'd made with him over the past months evaporated instantly, just as I feared. But, after spending countless evenings with Thorfinn, I learned one crucial thing about him.

He respected strength, in his own, twisted vengeful way. His main gripe with me was his belief that I couldn't hold my own. That I wasn't strong enough. To an extent, he was right. My strength as a woman paled in comparison to that of a hulking Viking man. To keep up, I had to work out most nights, pushing myself to the limit while the others slept.

Yet, if the men decided to gang up on me when I least expected it, I'd be done for.

I understood Thorfinn's anger. Truly, I did.

But it was as misguided as a drunk sailor.

So, I decided to show him I could take care of myself.

When I faced off against him without weapons, he didn't take me seriously. He stood there in the middle of the barn, arms crossed, looking at me like I was a pesky rat beneath his notice. But then I taunted him, and slowly, he grew enraged. When he finally charged at me blindly, I used his own body weight against him. With a swift kick to his foot and a grab to his shoulder, I sent him toppling forward, using his momentum to flip him in the air and land him face-first into the ground. In his momentary daze, I seized both of his wrists and secured them behind his back, holding them in place with my right hand.

He never really stood a chance. Years of hand-to-hand combat training had honed my skills, both in this life and the one before, thanks to my father's insistence on self-defense classes in that previous life of mine.

And then there had been Cillian in this life, who'd ensured I was up at the crack of dawn, sweating through training.

But then I couldn't resist poking fun at him. Nothing too harsh, because I didn't want to undo all the progress we'd made, but just enough to make my point.

"You see, Thorfinn? I can take care of myself."

"How the fuck did you do that?"

I smiled kindly down at him as he glared up at me with angry, but not enraged, eyes. "I'm pretty good with my hands, Thorfinn. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two if you're ever up for it."

I stood up off him and offered my hand, but he slapped it away, sitting up and brushing the dirt off his tan gambeson. Still glaring, though with less rage, he said, "Do you think just because you're good with your hands, as you put it, that'll save you when they find out you're a girl?"

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. "How many times do I have to say that I can handle myself?" I turned away from him, waving a hand dismissively. "And why does everyone have to bring up my sex all the time? I'm well aware that I don't have something dangling between my legs. I don't need constant reminders about it."

Thorfinn only tsked at me as I walked over to our empty bowls and picked them up. "Whatever. Do what you want. But you won't hear me saying I told you so." Then, more forcefully, "And don't expect me to help you!"

I sighed, knowing this needed to be addressed head-on. I rounded on Thorfinn, still clutching our bowls, and pulled down my mask and removed my hood so he could see my face clearly. See I meant every word. I placed my hand on my hip for good measure.

"Thorfinn, I get it, okay? I know exactly what will happen if some of these Vikings find out I'm a girl. Believe me, I know ." I emphasized the word like a hammer hitting a nail. Then I added softly, "I've been in this exact same situation before. More times than I can count. I experienced things that you haven't gone through yourself." I turned away, grimacing as memories surfaced, making me taste bile. "My... sisters went through it. What you're warning me about. So, I know. Okay? I know what to expect." I whipped back to face him, eyes steely with determination. "And I know how to take care of myself. Just… trust me, okay? I told you once before, this is my choice, not yours. I'm here partly because I promised I wouldn't leave you behind again." I shrugged my shoulder, unbothered. "The other part is my own reasons alone."

Then came the lie. I despised lying and avoided it whenever possible, preferring to weave half-truths and dance around the complete story. That way, when the whole truth inevitably emerged, I could still spin it to my advantage.

But what came out of my mouth next was a complete and utter lie.

"But if you weren't here, I would have still found myself in Askeladd's band anyhow. It's not for the same reasons as you, but they are still my reasons and mine alone."

This way, if something were to happen to me and Thorfinn began to care—truly care about me—his regret wouldn't be overwhelming.

But that regret would only come when he chooses to heal himself…

He sat in his usual spot near his makeshift hay pile bed now, having moved over there as I talked, arms crossed and wearing his signature scowl. But he was actually listening. Then he looked away, his eyes softening just a bit, still sharp, but with resignation. "Fine. Do what you want."

Then, very softly, he asked, "Your sisters…" I braced myself for his question. Whatever he was going to ask, I had to answer truthfully. I will not lie to him again. It was the only way to reach him, to share my experiences so he could understand. "Was that when you left all those years ago?"

It wasn't what I expected him to ask. "Yeah. When I left, my family was attacked. My mother and father were killed and burned in our home. And the people who... took their lives, they also took my sisters away."

He was looking at me now, no rage or hate in his eyes. Just a blank stare, void of light. "And what happened to the ones who killed your family and took your sisters?"

That…

I tilted my head to the side, a small but sad smile forming on my lips. "You know that group of Vikings I was with before I joined back up with you?"

"Vaguely."

"Three of those fifty Vikings were part of the band who killed my family."

His eyes widened ever so slightly, like the thought had completely flabbergasted him. "And were they the ones who dealt the final blow?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Does it matter?"

"It does matter. If you don't finish what you started, what's the point?"

"Who said I started anything?"

"You started something. Did something. You're not the same person as before. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet." He was sneering at me again.

But he was being rather insightful. Who knew Thorfinn, in this state, could act in such a way? "And if they changed their ways? What right do I have to take my revenge?"

"People don't change that much. If you have a chance for revenge, you take it. That's the only way to make things right."

I blinked at him. "And then after? What happens once I get my revenge?"

At this point, we weren't discussing me anymore. He might not have realized it, but the slight widening of his eyes suggested he was at least beginning to connect the dots.

"I, uh…" he hesitated, his gaze unfocused as if the notion had never crossed his mind before. "I…I don't…"

He struggled for words, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes briefly, I willed away any trace of emotion. He wouldn't want to see that vulnerability.

"So, did you enjoy the Alfredo I made?" I deflected, giving him an easy out. "I can make more of it in the future, if you like…"

No need to dwell on it for now, Thorfinn. The seed had rooted itself.

The battle raged fiercely, but in the end, Askeladd's men emerged victorious. Ironically, the skirmish erupted by mistake. Navigating a canal deep into English territory, we docked in a shallow bed to scout ahead, suspecting the waterway was clogged with other Danish ships trying to fight their way through a barricade the English had set up -- fighting under King Sweyn's orders.

As we approached a clearing, English soldiers on the opposite end emerged from the forest shadows, marching through the open space. Reinforcements, looking as if they'd stepped straight out of a knightly ballad.

Fortunately, we held the high ground—a stroke of luck that felt almost unfair, like winning a game of chess because your opponent forgot their queen.

In the end, we only lost two men. Neither was Aksel, the towering brute who'd been a thorn in my side since day one, giving me grief with the enthusiasm of a dedicated hobbyist. His gripe? My ancestry. What he had against the Irish—or Scots, as they lazily lumped us together—was anyone's guess. Maybe he'd lost a bet to a leprechaun.

It didn't matter. It was all so predictable. I was the scrawny newcomer, an easy target for their taunts and tests. They'd poke and prod, hoping to get a rise out of me, like schoolboys trying to rile a cat, and if they were lucky, a kill to satiate their bloodlust between battles. Luck, however, wasn't always on their side.

We set up camp near our target—a fortress-like structure perched on an island surrounded by canal waters. This canal, an ideal supply route for the deeper invasion into England, was marred by a troublesome fortress giving the Danes fits. They'd set-up wooden block ads on both sides of the canal, turning the island into a well-defended thorn in their side. The local lords, flush with wealth and warriors, kept the fortress well-stocked with reinforcements, giving the Norsemen a perpetual headache. It was like trying to pick a lock only to find the door guarded by a battalion of locksmiths.

Askeladd, ever the calculating bastard, wanted to scout around for a backdoor into the fortress, probably hoping for a secret passage labeled "This Way In, Please Don't Tell the Danes." But our run-in with a reinforcement convoy threw a wrench in those plans. Delayed, we opted to set up camp and catch our breath—no point storming the gates on an empty stomach, after all.

As I made my way back to the tent I had pitched in the middle of the camping area, returning from a pee break, someone called out to me. "Hey, Thorben! Why don't you join our camp for the night, eh? We've got a hare you could cook up with those spices of yours?"

"A hare, you say?" I replied, eyeing the speaker who sat with a group of men near a fire they had just recently built—a man in his thirties with a gap-toothed grin that suggested he'd taken a few too many punches. Despite his rugged appearance, he was a likable enough fellow from what I'd gathered during the fortnight I spent at his home. "That does sound like a decent meal," I began, only to be interrupted by an arm draping over my shoulders. Atli's arm.

"Hey now!" Atli's voice rang out, too close to my ear that it made me flinch in slight pain.

Then another arm, this one belonging to Torgrim, looped around my other shoulder. It was like being caught in a brotherly pincer maneuver.

"Thorben's with us tonight. Find your own cook!" Torgrim declared as the brothers herded me toward my tent, now flanked by another freshly pitched shelter. Probably one belonging to the two brothers…

And as we approached our tents, I still didn't see Thorfinn. He'd disappeared when the fighting concluded.

Along with Askeladd…

I glanced from Atli to Torgrim as we walked. "Do I have a say in this?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

"Of course you do, Thorben!" Torgrim chirped with exaggerated cheer, crossing his arms and flashing a grin of pure smug satisfaction as he finally released me. Standing before our tents with Atli trailing behind, he gazed down at me with eyes so excessively cheerful, they were teetering on the edge of cringe. "But wouldn't it be a hassle to lug all your spices over to their camp? If they wanted you as their cook, they should have pitched closer. Clearly, they're not thinking with their sto-erm, brains."

I arched my other eyebrow, crossing my arms in response. "Did you catch anything? Eating something other than salted meat sounds pretty tempting. And I know hare pairs nicely with a hint of thyme and a dash of irony."

Looking directly at Torgrim, I added, "And you're being awfully nice to me. I thought you didn't like me? Or is this just your way of getting out of cooking duties?"

Torgrim chuckled, his grin widening. "Oh, we like you just fine, Thorben ." He really put a lot of emphasis on my name, strangely enough. "Besides, anyone who can make field rations taste like a feast is worth keeping close. Now, let's see what we can whip up tonight, shall we?"

He sauntered into my area and grabbed my bag from inside my tent, rummaging through it like a raccoon at a buffet. I took a step forward, clearly irritated. "Hey, what the hell, Torgrim?"

Atli laughed, standing near his tent with his hands on his hips. "Come on now, got something to hide?"

"Who doesn't?" I shot back, striding over and snatching my bag from a grinning Torgrim. "If you want me to cook for you, don't piss off the chef. It's a basic survival rule!"

Both brothers chuckled as I moved to the other side of the campfire they were assembling but hadn't lit yet and set my bag down. "Jackasses," I muttered in modern English, unhooking my pot from the side of my bag with a flourish.

"Thorben, are you planning on cooking soon?" said yet another voice. I looked up, giving an exasperated look at Bjorn, who strolled into our camp with his tent supplies tucked under his arm. "Care if I join?" he asked, though he was already kneeling and setting down his bag, eagerly unwrapping his tent materials.

"I guess so," I sighed, rolling my eyes so hard I almost saw yesterday.

Bjorn glanced up at me with a smirk. "What's got you in a pissy mood? That time of the month or something?"

My head snapped up, eyes wide enough to catch flies. Instead of the barrage of questions I expected from the two brothers, they only snickered like schoolboys with a secret.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Were they laughing because they thought Bjorn was just being a comedian at my expense, or did they know he might actually be onto something? The thought swirled in my head as I watched them, trying to figure out if I was the joke or the punchline.

But I had to reply quickly because any hesitation would only fuel their suspicions and lead to a barrage of questions.

"Not at all," I retorted with a sly grin that reached my eyes, "but I don't have to worry about that. Never have, never will. So unless you're volunteering to help with the cooking, let's keep the jokes above waist level, shall we? Or would you prefer to go hungry tonight?"

It wasn't a lie, and the wording was ambiguous enough to go either way. I didn't have to worry about it because I was a "man"... or because my reproductive system was about as active as a hibernating bear.

An indefinite hibernating bear…

Bjorn gave me another quizzical glance, his hands pausing as he regarded me and my words, but held his tongue. Instead, it was Atli who came to my rescue.

"Hey, why don't you pick up that one story about the short people and the dragon?" Atli suggested, genuinely curious as he settled near the makeshift fire pit, his eyes sparkling with interest.

"The Hobbit," I clarified.

He pointed at me with a grin. "Yeah, that's it. Those Hobbits and Dwarves."

I began assembling my fire-starting kit and knelt over the pit Atli and Torgrim had prepared. "It's not fair to continue without the others who too were enjoying the story, is it?"

Atli laughed. "Who cares about them? Come on, I want to know what happens next! Who knows when we'll set sail again!"

As we set sail to England, one of the men on our boat asked me to tell the story I was telling his kids the week I spent at their home a month past. He boasted about the tale, and before long, more of the men on the boat were asking me to retell the tale, and I couldn't pass up on it. After all, the more interesting I was to them, the less likely they'd want to kill me, or worse, if it ever came out I was a woman.

That train of thought was beginning to wear out its welcome.

I rolled my eyes but obliged. As I coaxed the fire to life and prepared our meal for the night, I droned on about Bilbo's adventure with his dwarf companions. Given how similar dwarves were to Vikings, it was no surprise they took to the tale so eagerly. Even Bjorn seemed to enjoy the story. As he cleaned his sword after pitching his tent, he would occasionally stop and give me his full attention whenever the story got exciting.

As the night deepened and the sun had officially set, and the food was cooked and promptly devoured, Thorfinn's continued absence gnawed at my nerves. My gaze lingered on the pot between us, still holding a bowl's worth of stew that I'd insisted we save for Thorfinn, despite the grumbling it caused. Bjorn, ever the vigilant observer, caught my look.

"He's probably with Askeladd," Bjorn said from my right, turning his eyes toward me. "The idiot rarely leaves his side until Askeladd settles in for the night during times like these."

I glanced at Bjorn, irritated that he had read me so easily. Then again, I never hid what some might call my maternal instincts. "Where is Askeladd anyway?" I asked, deflecting his observation.

"Scouting around the riverside fortress, no doubt."

I frowned. "And he hasn't returned yet…" I mused aloud. That conniving bastard better not have sent Thorfinn on a suicide mission inside the fortress to find a way in.

Knowing Askeladd, he'd probably think it a brilliant tactic with the possibility of killing two birds with one stone. He'd made it known he didn't care for Thorfinn.

And in one sense, he really didn't. But in another, he absolutely did. The infuriating complexity of that man never ceased to vex me.

If only I could make him care more for Thorfinn. But how?

Frustration surged through me, and I stood up abruptly, drawing the eyes of my campfire companions. "What's wrong, Thorben?" Atli asked, eyebrows raised.

"Gotta take a shit?" Torgrim chimed in, ever the jester.

"I'm going to find Askeladd," I said curtly and turned to leave, ignoring their reactions.

A sigh followed me, then Bjorn's steady voice, "I'll go with you."

I didn't bother looking back as I marched towards the fortress through our makeshift camp, the overcast sky making navigation tricky with barely any moonlight to guide us.

We walked for what felt like half an hour, Bjorn trailing close behind, until we finally broke through the dense trees and were greeted by the sight of a river, the canal—and the well-fortified fortress.

Ducking back into the tree line, I turned to Bjorn. "Do you know where they could be?"

Bjorn, arms crossed as if this were a casual stroll, pointed to his left. "Over that way, if I had to wager a guess. To our right is where the canal barricade sits. Askeladd's probably sniffing out a back entrance, if he hasn't already wormed his way in."

I blinked at his choice of words but let it pass. Yet when Bjorn didn't budge as I started to head left, I turned back to him. "Something wrong?"

With a critical gaze over the bridge of his nose, he sized me up, his eyes narrowing. It dawned on me then, or rather, I recalled with a sudden twinge on my cheek and a knot in my stomach, just how towering Bjorn appeared next to my short frame.

"And what exactly is the plan here?" He leaned in slightly, his gaze never wavering. "Don't tell me you're thinking of dragging Thorfinn back to camp." Then he smirked, standing straight again, the slight moonlight that broke through the overcast clouds casting shadows on his face. "I'd pay to see you try that."

"Is that why you're following me? For a show?"

"Of course. Why else?"

I gave him my best deadpan look, my patience wearing thin. "No. That wasn't the plan."

"Then what is it?" he asked, crossing his arms with a skeptical frown.

I smirked, a glint of mischief in my eyes. "I don't have one."

Bjorn's frown deepened, his brows knitting together. "Then why the hell are you bothering Askeladd?"

"Because I can." I said, turning away with a sense of determination.

Or maybe it was stupidity.

Whatever.

Bjorn sighed, shaking his head with a hint of exasperation. "You're a damn fool, you know that? But fine, let's see where this leads."

And I was being honest. The only reason I was seeking out Askeladd was to see if Thorfinn was still with him and safe. It was foolish, I knew that. Thorfinn had chosen to stay by Askeladd's side for years and had survived just fine. But that didn't guarantee this time would go like all the others. If there was anything I could do to ensure Thorfinn survived long enough to see the error of his ways, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

How I was going to achieve that was another matter. I'd have to wing it. Despite occasionally understanding Askeladd's thought process, he remained an enigma to me—his motives and plans always just out of reach.

He'd throw Thorfinn into the thick of battle without a second thought, just as he had done today. Out of nowhere, Askeladd had declared, "Thorfinn, if you cut down a quarter of these men, I'll grant you a duel before sundown."

When he said that, I had half a mind to plant an arrow right between his eyes. The bastard.

And not so naturally, Thorfinn followed orders without hesitation.

Of course, Thorfinn didn't meet that goal, no thanks to my interference. Thankfully, he didn't realize it was me who thwarted his efforts.

Trying to predict Askeladd's every move would drive anyone mad. But if I can spare Thorfinn from some of the burden, I'll need to anticipate his next steps.

As for his long-term plans? Not a chance.

It took a moment to spot where Askeladd and Thorfinn were. They had taken up watch on a hillside overlooking the canal at the back of the fortress, far from where the barricades were set up, accompanied by the man they call The Ear. From there, I could hear distant yelling—probably a Viking squad attempting to break through the barricade under the cover of night.

As we approached, Thorfinn turned to glare at me from near Askeladd's back, while Askeladd remained perched at the hill's edge by a tree, one knee on the ground, using his other leg as an armrest.

Of course, Askeladd knew it was Bjorn and me; The Ear would have informed him of our approach with his usual creepy efficiency. I glanced at The Ear, who sat on the other side of Askeladd's tree. His hands weren't cupped around his ears, which meant he was off-duty for the moment.

My eyes returned to Thorfinn, relieved to see he was safe and not off on one of Askeladd's suicidal errands. Then, they slid back to Askeladd's back. He wasn't wearing his Roman breastplate, so no immediate plans for an assault. Yet. That was a small mercy.

Alright, Thorfinn wasn't on a suicide run. Now what?

"Are you going to stand there gawking like an idiot, or are you going to ask your question, Fiadh?" Askeladd said, his voice dripping with that trademark smugness. He tilted his head just enough to fix me with a sly, one-eyed stare.

I stiffened when he used my real name. The Ear didn't seem to react, so he must be in on my secret. Great. Whether that was a relief or a new problem, I couldn't decide. The more who knew, the more likely it would get out. Loyalty was scarce among these men. Even Bjorn, who at best found me amusing, wouldn't back me. But really, why should I be surprised The Ear knew? With his freakish hearing, he probably picked up on it years ago.

Well, shit. At least now I could use my real voice.

But I had to think fast to justify why I was interrupting Askeladd during his scouting. Clearly, he was deep in strategizing mode.

Approaching him, I stood next to Thorfinn, who hadn't stopped glaring at me. As I neared, he crossed his arms and emitted a disdainful snort. I chose to ignore his adolescent antics. Opening my mouth to speak, I quickly surveyed the fortress. "Have you devised a plan yet for infiltration?"

I asked deliberately slowly, scanning the scene. There was no noticeable back entrance. The drawbridge over the canal remained raised, and any attempt to lower it required access from within. Crossing the canal undetected seemed implausible unless someone could hold their breath underwater for an absurdly long time against the current—a rather far-fetched idea. English soldiers were strategically positioned atop the fortress walls and patrolling below, making intrusion from that direction perilous.

The soldiers outside the walls were brazen, I'll give them that much. Their job was essentially a death sentence.

Yet, there was no clear path into the fortress.

And if Askeladd fancied it, he might send Thorfinn to swim across and scale the wall.

Assuming he could do so without becoming a pincushion for arrows.

With the technology at the Vikings' disposal, a unified assault against the barricade seemed the logical choice. But, so I learned, logic rarely swayed Askeladd's penchant for the unconventional.

"If I were to admit I hadn't come up with a plan yet," Askeladd supplied, maintaining his usual air of secrecy. Naturally, as a mere low-ranking recruit, my inquiry was beneath his notice, something I should have been well aware of. Something we were trained on before the Viking season even began. Even The Ear couldn't help but snort at my audacity. "Do you happen to have a brilliant scheme up your sleeve?" But the way he smiled at me, he didn't betray a hint of annoyance or condescension, as if I wasn't overstepping.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Brilliant? No. An idea I'm willing to share? Sure, why not."

Askeladd rose from his perch with deliberate grace, mindful of the fortress's watchful eyes. His half-narrowed gaze remained fixed on me as he approached, that self-righteous grin never leaving his face. He stopped in front of me, arms crossed, a silent challenge in his stance. "Let's hear this idea of yours then."

For a man of average height, he still managed to loom over me. Damn my short stature.

"They're expecting reinforcements, right?" I began tentatively. Askeladd's eyebrow arched, prompting me to continue. "Then let's give them reinforcements. Preferably ones who can speak English."

A pregnant pause hung in the air. Askeladd kept his gaze fixed on me, his eyes unblinking. I couldn't help but wonder if he thought I was daft for proposing it. Then, unexpectedly, Bjorn chimed in from behind me, "Not a bad idea, really. But we don't have enough men who could pass as English."

I shrugged nonchalantly, stealing a glance back at Bjorn, relieved to break the gaze from Askeladd, which was beginning to give me the heebie-jeebies. "We'd only need a handful. Ten at most. And we really just need one or two who can speak English well enough to fool them."

Bjorn regarded me skeptically. "And how do you propose ten men could pass as reinforcements?"

"We'll spin a tale about our troop being decimated by the Danes," I explained, "and plead for sanctuary behind their walls before the big bad Danes can finish what they started."

"And you expect them to believe that?" Bjorn countered. "What's to stop them from turning us away as cowards?"

I chuckled. "Wouldn't exactly be Christian of them, would it?"

"And if we go through with this," Askeladd interjected coolly, "who do you suggest leads this charge?"

I returned my gaze to Askeladd and raised an eyebrow. "Someone who can speak English fluently, obviously."

"And do you know of such a person?" Askeladd's smirk widened knowingly.

"I'm not a good pick if that is what you're asking," I admitted, not wanting anything to do with this. And I wasn't. I was too short, and my voice, who still sounded like a young lad when I tried, wouldn't pass as the reinforcements leader.

Askeladd's smirk deepened, flashing teeth. "Fine by me. Thorfinn," he turned sharply to said broody teenager, "You're up."

I blinked in surprise.

"And how the hell am I supposed to do that? And why would I, baldy?" Thorfinn's voice dripped with irritation.

"Baldy?" I muttered under my breath.

"Since you missed your chance for a duel," Askeladd's eyes flicked briefly to me and back to Thorfinn, well aware why Thorfinn missed his chance, "this is your opportunity to redeem yourself, isn't it?"

"Thorfinn can't speak English well enough," I cut in quickly, trying to keep the situation under control and Thorfinn out of it. Askeladd's eyes cut back to me as I spoke. The way he regarded me was like he was waiting for something. "Surely, among a hundred men, there's someone who can speak English fluently?"

"We need someone who can pass, not someone who can deliver a sermon. Thorfinn here," he gestured to Thorfinn, ignoring the look Thorfinn was giving him like he was about to bite his fingers off, "will do just fine." His smile twisted into something almost cruel. "We'll rough him up a bit, and they'll blame his broken speech on his injuries."

No way. That wasn't going to happen.

"I'll do it," I blurted out when Thorfinn opened his mouth to probably give his own denial, not fully thinking it through.

I expected him to question my volunteering or just laugh outright. But the smug look that crossed his face had me doubting the last ten minutes. Had he…?

"Then it's settled!" His eyes lingered on me, brimming with satisfaction, before shifting to Bjorn. "Bjorn, fetch the men who speak English." He walked forward, and as he passed, he clasped my shoulder. "Good choice, Fiadh." His voice lowered, edged with a cutting sneer, his breath tickling my exposed upper cheek, "Knew you'd pull through. I didn't doubt it for a second."

My eyes darted to him, catching a sly wink. His grip on my shoulder tightened painfully before he let go and followed Bjorn.

And it hit me—Askeladd had played me perfectly. He knew I'd step in to save Thorfinn…

And I walked right into his trap.

(Author's Note:

Askeladd: 1

Fiadh: 0

Or maybe Askeladd should be set to two for his manipulation of Fiadh, haha.

I have a confession to make...I didn't do a lot of editing from the last chapter like I planned. The week that chapter posted, I was still dealing with major brain fog. This week, however, I've been better. I do think you can notice a difference in my writing when you compare the two chapters, don't you think? I feel like my prose are a lot more put together in this chapter.

Also, I hope you guys don't mind me skipping the crew and Fiadh interactions. Writing about how she's been slowly worming her way onto their good side, I feel, would be a chore to read. Let me know if you think otherwise.

Anyhow, please comment and let me know what you think of this chapter!

And I have another confession to make... the next chapter will have a minor/major turning point for the story and I cannot WAIT to write that part of the story! *insert evil laughter here*)