Painted Blade || sihtric

21.

   THE next day went by as fast as the first day in Dunholm. Expect Bemia had a throbbing headache all day and it only grew worse at breakfast when Ragnar scolded her for falling into Cnut's trick of killing that woman with an axe.

To be honest, Bemia only remembered bits and pieces of that whole fight but Sihtric, Finan, and Ragnar painted the picture clear as day for her and since then, she hadn't even spotted Cnut. Perhaps it was best that she hadn't.

"You can't be killing any of my men," Ragnar had scolded her after breakfast as they walked toward the temporary shack she shared with her husband, Finan, and Osferth. "What Cnut did was sly and no doubt to test you, which is why I have allowed you to walk among my men unpunished. But I can't allow that again."

Bemia had nodded her head, ignoring the want to touch the split skin on her cheekbone. "Yes, Lord," she had obediently said. "It won't happen again, Ragnar."

And that had thankfully been that once she was left at her house where she greeted Osferth, swearing to never have a sip of ale again.

...And yet, she was currently finishing her third cup of ale before throwing it into the dirt at her feet as fires burned near the walls of the fortress, men and women standing around in a circle while other men and women stood on balconies that were carved into the walls, all eyes watching the inside of the circle.

And in the middle of that circle stood Bemia beside her drunk husband, Finan, and a sober Osferth, with the rest of Uhtred's men around them. Across from them was another group of men—Ragnar's Danes—around the same amount, everyone waiting for the game to start with a long, thick rope on the ground.

"We are two people," Ragnar started, standing between the two groups with a cup of ale in hand, everyone listening to him, "it seems. Over here,"—he motioned a hand toward Bemia and the men—"we have the ugly,"—the crowd laughed—"the unwashed...the shit-smelling...the pig-humping...frog-licking—"

"The frog licking?" Osferth exclaimed as Bemia laughed at him, patting his shoulder.

"The Rome-worshipping," Ragnar went on, holding his sister's shoulder that shook from her laughter, "ugly, frog-licking Saxons!"

"That is who we are!" Finan cheered, tipping a jug of ale toward the ground, allowing Sihtric to gulp it down as Bemia cheered.

"But we do not lick frogs!" Osferth stated.

Finan moved the jug of ale away from Sihtric, sculling the rest of it himself.

Bemia looked away from Osferth with a smile but then a surprised scream left her lungs as Sihtric grabbed her waist, lifting her up with a chuckle. Out of instinct, she wrapped her legs around his waist, grabbing the back of his neck, and then his lips were crashing on hers.

Uhtred and Ragnar cheered the loudest, other men following suit and whistling as Bemia laughed into the kiss before pulling away, smiling down at her drunk husband whose eyes were darting from her eyes to her lips. Back and forth.

"Keep looking at me like that and we'll be back in our bed before the game starts," she laughed as he placed her back on her feet.

"See, now we have to leave," he chuckled, grabbing her hand and ready to pull her away.

But when he turned around, Finan was standing in place with his arms crossed over his chest and an amused smile on his drunken face. "You leave now, and I swear I'll drag you back out here before you can get your trousers off."

Sihtric groaned in annoyance like a child and turned back around to his laughing wife whose eyes sparkled from happiness, only making him smile once again.