A Queen Named Victory

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Grendel's POV

Sigrid pressed her thumbs to my temples and ran them down the sides of my face, painting half of my face with her blood. She touched them at my chin before she pulled me in for another kiss. Her lips brushed one last time before she pushed away from me.

"I run with you."

She turned to the rest of our gathering crowd. Vanatyr and Dimikyrs gathered at the sight of their leader. Vanatyrs mirrored her hand gestures and exposed their necks to her while Montverian soldiers saluted with their heads bowed low to avoid looking at her unveiled face. Their outstretched hands, palm up, pointed towards her as a sign of respect.

We watched Sigrid step away from the forest's cover and closer to Ivar's domain. She walked with upright shoulders with a raised chin, although she suffered from severe injuries. She flung the clumped fabric that plugged her wound onto the ground. It hit with a fleshy splat, spraying blackened blood over the snow. Then she ripped off her boots and discarded them into the air. She stripped the chainmail breast cover bloodied tunic and, then her soaked trousers. Lastly, she let the tattered cloak fall from her shoulders.

The Vanatyr warriors broke out in a hymn. Their chants went unheard by my people, but they resonated with my thoughts. Their humming consumed my senses and sent tingles over my bite mark. It was as if loose strands of hair tickled my skin. Storm clouds brewed above. The women sang with the winds. Thunder roared after lighting flashed in the sky.

Oh, she who runs. Mother Wolf guides.

Oh, she who howls. Mother Wolf hears.

Oh, she who hunts. Mother Wolf provides.

Oh, she who attacks. Mother Wolf rears.

Oh, she who kills fills Mother Wolf with pride.

Oh, rises the Wolfsbane Heir.

Awoo.

Lightning slapped the dirt beneath Sigrid's feet. Her agonizing screams summoned me. A Vanatyr woman, who had an uncanny resemblance to Sigrid, blocked me with her hand and disapproving look. Sigrid's screeches lowered into beastly wails. Her body snapped and twisted. The sound of cracking bones lashed my ears. My grip on Sangyr tightened. The greatest weapon known to my people was useless to me.

What could I do? Stab the lighting? Slash the clouds? I could not ease it nor end her internal pain. I glared at the floor with a clenched jaw as my wife—the woman I pledged to protect with my life—suffered. The Vanatyr's hand patted me on the back awkwardly before pulling her hand away with a disgusted look on her face. Comforting someone was not one of her best talents.

Flashing light from the clouds blinded us all. Darkened shadows feasted on Sigrid's fallen body. When they fled, a black mass towered over the land. It dispersed the clouds as it shook its fur. Two eyes like moons looked down on us, ready to strike. The Vanatyrs howled and rejoiced. Some shifted into their beastly forms and pranced in the forest. Their yips and barks created the opposite aura of Sigrid's thunderous growls. Sabre looked for any hint as to what was going on, but I was just as shocked.

Sigrid raised her head to the sky. Her howl rocked the earth, rattled nocturnal creatures out of the trees, and sent birds into a fearful fright. Her Vanatyrs sprang into a melody of pitched howls. Rain fell from the sky, snowballing into a heavy downpour that prickled my skin.

"I presume you're my new mother," I spoke lightly to the Vanatyr woman. She took my hand with a tight grip. She smiled when I blocked her dagger in the other hand from piercing my organs.

"Her aunt. You may call me Lupa."

"You can call me Grendel, her mate," I said while moving the fabric of my collar to reveal the scarred bite mark. Lupa looked me down. She measured the size of my body beneath the soaked attire (which I prided myself on after years of training and combat). A short nod was her only response, and it sufficed. White rays of light traveled down the beast's body until the silhouette of a woman stood in its place.

Sigrid stood in the pouring rain, waiting with her eyes locked on the glaciers beyond the forest. Lupa spoke, "She's the most powerful of our kind. Be wary, nephew. Greed, hunger, and treachery pursue power." Lupa watched me, waiting for a response. Sigrid's position as the Queen of Montver already put her in danger's way. Now, she wore a golden target for the other nations seeking to weaponize her. She just gained the strength of a god without knowing.

"She is well cared for."

"That is until her sister awakens. If their mother's magic wears off."

So, Ivar escaped with his life and Sigrid's twin. Those two spoiled our warless future, especially with Ingrid's betrayal. She was bound to lash out eventually, but like this? It had to be the hardest pain for Sigrid to swallow and a problem I needed to resolve. Lupa's uncertainty fed my concerns.

Two women godly powers at war with each other could destroy our world. It was only a matter of time before their sibling rivalry sparked chaos and destruction. Sabre joined us with her hand on my shoulder. She offered her wisdom, "There's no point in fretting over the future. Let us cherish what little peace we have in our hands."

Sigrid returned in a plain linen tunic and trousers with a white veil over her face and tamed curls. She passed us to reach the crowd, then bowed. Vanatyrs froze at the oddity in her behavior. Dimikyrs gaped with open mouths, unsure what to do. I followed my wife by honoring the soldiers.

"I am deeply honored to fight alongside fearless soldiers and warriors," she announced.

Her voice carried throughout the forest. A wall of silver light touched the heavens and swept through all of us. Its cool breeze soothed my aches and undoubtedly healed the wounded in our troops.

"I will do everything in my power to lead us into victory."

She gripped my hand, then continued, "Our reign will bring triumph and justice to every citizen!"

"Well said," I whispered as she tightened her grip.

"Let us return to Montver in good spirit," she said while raising our joined hands. The crowds howled and cheered in unity. The earlier discomfort between the groups eased as they celebrated their victory over the ice fey. Ingrid's capture meant little to them as they raised their weaponry. We drove out the fairies from the border forest and avenged our wounded. That alone pushed them into a better mood.

Sigrid pulled me closer as she whispered, "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Actions speak louder than words."

She pulled aside her veil to kiss me. This time she tasted of sweet mead rather than blood.

"Let's go home," she breathed.