Painted Blade || sihtric

7.

DAYS later, Bemia was pissed off with the world as she walked with Finan toward the docks at Coccham.

After arriving back in Winchester from Lunden, the pathetic King Alfred had banished Uhtred to his estate and since then, Bemia had taken most of her anger out of a tree that had deep, and jagged lines carved into it from her sword.

For years, the King had been using and unminding her brother and she was sick of it. Especially when the King only used him whenever he chose, like damn today.

"What did the letter say again?" Bemia asked Finan, a hand on the top of her axe that was hanging from her belt.

Finan kept his eyes on the docking boats as they walked toward them. "King Alfred promised one thousand men to Aethelred to fight alongside the great fryd of Mercia, to help rid Lunden of the brothers'."

"One day I will kill that damned king myself," she spat out, glaring at Aethelred who was speaking to Beocca on the dock. "Never likes my brother until he's doing his work."

"And I have no doubt of you killing him one day," he mused. "Lord Aethelred! Welcome to Coccham, the jewel of Wessex. Uhtred is expecting you."

Aethelred faced the pair as they joined him and Beocca rushed away to help his wife. While Finan smiled, Bemia glared without a care.

"Uhtred is with the women, Lord, helping them prepare food," Bemia informed him, throwing disgust at the word 'Lord'. "Such is the life of a warrior your beloved King banished."

"Follow us," Finan added, giving her a small push to lead the way and to stop her from committing treason like he knew she would if she had the chance. "Your men can join ours in the hall."

Bemia rolled her eyes at his kindness while leading the way, only reserving her kind side for the people that she passed.

When Bemia entered the hall, she didn't bother with uttering a word, instead making her way straight over to Sihtric who was already watching her with a cup of ale and Aethelwold seated beside him.

"I'll need more than one," she grumbled, taking the ale from him while she sat down. In one breath, the ale was gone, and she handed the cup back to him. "Just looking at him makes me angry. I wish to break his nose," she muttered, watching Aethelred sit down at the table.

Sihtric chuckled, placing the cup down on the table. "Perhaps in battle, you could just say you mistook him for a Dane."

Bemia's eyes practically lit up at the suggestion and he laughed more, shaking his head. "I love the way you think, Sihtric."

"I admit that I have gotten most of my ideas from you," he confessed with a wink that made her softly laugh, shaking her head.

But damn was her heart racing from that simple wink.

"I have not seen the inside of a pagan hall," Aldhelm said, looking around the hall. "I am surprised at its...warmth."

"Were you expecting to see heads on poles, Lord?" Gisela questioned with an amused tone.

Bemia raised her brow, tilting her head at the man. "And children to be weeping with their mothers?"

Aldhelm looked at Bemia and then Gisela. "I was, Ladies. Excuse my ignorance."

"We will excuse you," Gisela assured him as Bemia snorted, "this one time. Will Lady Aethelflaed be joining us after prayers, Lord?"

"If she has the will, yes," Aethelred answered. "She has not traveled well."

Gisela sat down in the chair across from him with a judgemental look. "Should she be traveling at all to battle?"

"It was her wish to accompany her husband," Aldhelm quickly answered. "They are newly married after all."