Conqueror Queen

Chapter 9

Aiya sat in the cold, damp tower, her body trembling as the freezing air poured in through the small, open window. Frost glittered along the wooden frame, a cruel embellishment to her already dire situation. She wrapped the thin, scratchy blanket tightly around herself, its threadbare fabric offering little comfort. Her breath was visible in the dim light, puffing out in steady bursts that dissipated as quickly as they formed. She thought of Ragda, of the warmth of his embrace, and a pang of longing clenched her chest. But she knew it would be some time before she saw him again—if she ever did.

She rocked back and forth on the small cot in the center of the chamber, her mind racing. Revenge against Hemming was supposed to feel empowering, but this wasn’t how she had imagined it. She had envisioned herself slipping into his chambers, her blade slicing through his throat as he slept. Instead, here she was, a prisoner with no means of escape. The heavy, fortified door offered no chance of slipping away, and the drop from the high tower would certainly kill her. She had no choice but to wait—and waiting was the worst torment of all.

The grating sound of the door’s latch startled her. She stood quickly as the door swung open, her heart pounding. James entered, shutting the door behind him with practiced ease. He barked a quick order to the guard outside to leave, his tone firm and unyielding.

"What do you want?" Aiya asked sharply, her voice cutting through the heavy air.

James didn’t answer immediately. He moved to the window, his posture tense as he looked out at the cold, gray sky. The silence stretched uncomfortably between them.

"I needed to see you," he said at last, his voice quiet but resolute.

Aiya frowned, watching him closely. His lack of eye contact unnerved her, and she shifted uneasily on her feet.

"He's your father?" she asked, her tone laced with accusation. "Why did you say nothing?"

James inhaled deeply, finally turning to face her. His expression was conflicted, a mixture of guilt and resolve. "Yes, he is. At first, it didn’t seem important. And later…" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Later, I didn’t want you to hate me the way you hate him."

His explanation did little to soothe her anger. She folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him. "Why are you here now, then?"

James stepped closer, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "I’ve come to help you. But it will take time to get you out of here."

"I don’t need your help," she said coldly, retreating to her cot and wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

James exhaled sharply, throwing his hands in the air. "Don’t be her," he said, frustration coloring his words.

"Don’t be who?" she shot back, her eyes narrowing.

"The stubborn Aiya who refuses help, who always insists on doing everything her way," he said, kneeling beside her. His hands gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I’m trying to help you."

She stared at him, unflinching. "I don’t want help from a traitor," she said, her words venomous.

James’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond to her insult. He slid down to sit beside her, his arms resting on his bent knees as he stared at the wall. She could see the conflict in his expression, but she refused to feel sympathy for him.

"My father is planning a feast tonight," he said after a long silence. "In my honor. You’re to be the entertainment." He hesitated, his voice thick with unease. "I don’t know what he plans, but it won’t be good."

"Then help me escape now," she demanded.

"We won’t get far enough," he replied, standing abruptly. "If we fail, there may not be another chance. I’ve already sent word to Ragda. We have to wait for his instructions."

Before she could argue, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. His touch was firm but surprisingly gentle. "I’ll come back to see you," he said, his voice soft. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, the gesture lingering longer than she expected. Then, without another word, he turned and left, the heavy door slamming shut behind him.

---

The great hall was a spectacle of excess. Long tables groaned under the weight of salted meats, fresh bread, fruits, and endless goblets of wine and ale. Wildflowers in vibrant blues and yellows adorned the tables, their cheerful hues a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere. Lords and ladies filled the hall, their laughter and chatter echoing off the high stone walls. At the head of the room sat Lord Hemming, his rotund frame practically spilling over the edges of his ornate chair. To his right was James, his jaw tight as he sipped from a goblet, his thoughts far from the festivities.

"My Lords and Ladies," Hemming boomed, rising from his seat with exaggerated pomp. "It brings me great joy to celebrate the return of my son, Jago, after so many years!"

The guests cheered politely, though many eyes lingered curiously on James. Hemming clapped a hand on James’s shoulder, his grip firm. "And tonight, we have a special treat for you all."

The grand doors at the far end of the hall creaked open, and Aiya was dragged inside, her wrists and ankles bound in heavy chains. Gasps rippled through the room as she was forced to her knees in the center of the hall. Her thin, white underdress clung to her frame, doing little to shield her from the cold. The chains bit into her flesh, leaving angry red marks on her skin.

James clenched his goblet, his knuckles white as he fought to control his anger.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Hemming announced, his tone mockingly jubilant. "This is a barbarian, a Viking slave. Filthy, heathen scum." He grabbed the chain around Aiya’s neck and yanked, pulling her forward. She fell onto the stone floor, her hands clutching at the chain as Hemming placed his boot on her chest.

"Jago," Hemming said, turning to his son with a cruel smile. "What shall we do with her?"

James stood slowly, his movements deliberate. "This… isn’t necessary," he said, his voice calm but edged with defiance. "In fact, I think you’ve killed the mood of the evening. Perhaps you should send her back to the tower."

Hemming’s smile faded, his expression darkening. "Don’t embarrass me, boy," he growled. "Or perhaps you’d like to join her as tonight’s entertainment?"

James didn’t hesitate. He stepped onto the table, kicking aside plates and goblets as he leapt down into the aisle. The hall fell silent as he approached Hemming, his eyes blazing.

"I think you should give her to me," James said, his voice steady. "As a welcome home present."

Hemming scowled, his grip on the chain tightening. "She’s mine."

James smirked, leaning closer. "Do you really want everyone to think you have a personal interest in her? I’m sure your wife doesn’t appreciate the attention you’re giving a slave girl."

The room murmured, and Hemming’s face flushed with embarrassment. Reluctantly, he let go of the chain. "Fine," he spat. "Take her."

James grabbed the chain and pulled Aiya to her feet. Without a word, he led her out of the hall, the eyes of every guest burning into their backs.

When they were alone in the corridor, James stopped abruptly. He turned to Aiya, his expression unreadable. Before she could speak, he leaned in and kissed her. For a moment, she resisted, but then she melted into him, her resolve slipping. When the kiss ended, she stared at him, her cheeks flushed.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You looked like you needed it," he said with a smirk.

A horn’s sharp blast echoed through the night, cutting their moment short. James rushed to the window, Aiya close behind him. Fires burned in the distance, illuminating the dark horizon. The faint sounds of shouts and clashing steel reached their ears.

Aiya’s lips curled into a smile. "Ragda," she whispered. "He’s here."