The boys' grips tightened as they pushed Aiya forward, the cloth over her eyes cutting her off from the surroundings she knew too well. Her wrists ached where the tattered cloth bound them, and her body protested every jolt and stumble. The sound of their hurried footsteps was broken only by their frantic whispers, barely masking the nervous energy radiating from them.
“Do you think Hemming will really reward us?” Bothelm asked, his voice cracking.
“Of course,” Æðelræd replied, though his tone lacked conviction. “He hates the Vikings. This one will be proof of our loyalty.”
“She doesn’t even look like a Viking,” Eadred muttered. “Maybe she’s lying.”
Aiya smirked under her blindfold. She could feel their uncertainty, their doubt growing with every step. They weren’t warriors; they were boys playing a dangerous game they didn’t fully understand. And she would use that to her advantage.
“Quiet,” Æðelræd snapped, though his voice wavered. “We’re almost there.”
Almost there? Aiya’s pulse quickened. They couldn’t have made it far enough to reach York. She focused on the sounds around her, the subtle shifts in the terrain beneath her boots. Trees—she could hear the rustling of their leaves in the wind, the snap of twigs underfoot. They were still deep in the forest, not yet in the open fields leading to Hemming’s stronghold.
The boys suddenly stopped, and she stumbled forward, barely catching herself. She felt their eyes on her, their hesitation palpable.
“What are you planning to do with me when we get to Hemming?” she asked, her voice calm but pointed. “Do you think he’ll just welcome you with open arms? Three farm boys handing over a Viking woman?”
“She’s trying to trick us,” Eadred hissed, though his words were more for himself than his companions.
“You’re walking into a trap,” Aiya continued, her voice low and steady. “Hemming doesn’t trust anyone. He’ll assume you’ve been working with the Vikings, that you’ve led him into danger. Do you really think he’ll believe your story?”
“You lie,” Bothelm snapped, his knife trembling as he pressed it closer to her side. “Hemming is a great lord. He’ll reward us for bringing you.”
Aiya laughed softly, the sound sharp and mocking. “Reward you? Or punish you for meddling in his affairs? Hemming doesn’t share his glory. He doesn’t share anything.”
The boys fell silent, their footsteps faltering. She could feel the shift in their confidence, the cracks in their resolve. But before she could press further, the rustling of leaves behind them caught her attention. The boys froze, their heads snapping toward the sound.
“What was that?” Eadred whispered, fear lacing his voice.
“Probably just an animal,” Æðelræd said, though his hand crept toward his knife.
A shadow moved in the corner of Aiya’s vision—swift, deliberate. The rustling grew louder, closer, until—
Esma burst from the underbrush, a branch swinging in her hands. The makeshift weapon cracked against Bothelm’s arm, sending his knife clattering to the ground. The boy yelped, clutching his arm as he stumbled back. Before the others could react, Gunnar emerged like a bear from the woods, his massive form dwarfing the boys.
“Let her go,” Gunnar growled, his ax gleaming in the faint light of dawn.
The boys scrambled, their earlier bravado dissolving into panic. Æðelræd stepped forward, his knife shaking as he held it out toward Gunnar.
“We—we found her first!” he stammered, his voice cracking. “She’s ours to take to Hemming!”
Gunnar’s laugh was low and dangerous, a sound that made the boys flinch. “She’s no one’s to take,” he said, stepping closer. “Now run, before I decide you’re better off feeding the crows.”
Bothelm was the first to bolt, his chubby legs carrying him into the woods without a backward glance. Eadred and Æðelræd hesitated, their knives still drawn, but one look at Gunnar’s steely gaze was enough to send them after their cousin.
Esma rushed to Aiya’s side, untying the cloth around her wrists and removing the blindfold. “Are you hurt?” she asked, her voice tight with worry.
Aiya shook her head, though her wrists throbbed where the bindings had bitten into her skin. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice steady. “Thank you.”
Gunnar stepped forward, his ax resting against his shoulder. “We should head back before they get any ideas about returning with more friends.”
Aiya nodded, brushing dirt from her clothes. “They said they were taking me to Hemming. They mentioned York.”
Gunnar’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening. “Then it’s a good thing we stopped them. But we need to move quickly. If they reach York first, Hemming will know we’re here.”
Esma helped Aiya to her feet, and the three of them began the trek back to camp. As they walked, Aiya’s mind raced. The boys had been foolish, but their mention of Hemming was no small matter. He would know she was coming for him. The element of surprise was slipping away.
But as she glanced at Gunnar and Esma, their determination mirroring her own, she felt a surge of resolve. Hemming would fall. And when he did, it would be by her hand.
YOU ARE READING
Conqueror Queen
Fiction Historique✯Sequel to A Viking's Rage✯ Her whole life she had been mistreated, now it was her turn for revenge. She wasn't just a slave anymore, she was Aiya Einardóttir now, and she would conqueror the whole world if she had too. Now she seeks revenge on Lord...
