The war council stretches through the afternoon, and I stand among Sigvald's warriors as Ragnar and Leif map their strategy against Jarl Ormr's forces.
But my attention keeps fragmenting.
Not because of the battle plans—those I understand instinctively.
No, my focus shatters because of the woman who arrived with the konungs' retinue and now sits in the great hall like she owns it.
Astrid.
Ten years have polished her beauty into something harder, sharper. Gold hair coiled beneath a silver circlet. Silk and fur draped across shoulders that have never known labor.
And on her finger, a ring that marks her as Ragnar's wife.
My half-sister married the man who is supposedly the father of my children. And is he?
The irony would be laughable if it were not so dangerous.
When the council ends and warriors disperse to prepare, Leif catches my elbow before I can slip away.
"You look distracted, shield-maiden. Something on your mind?" His voice drops low, meant only for me. "Or someone?"
"Battle preparations, my lord. Nothing more."
"Liar." He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You keep glancing at my brother's wife like you want to gut her. Old rivalry? Or something more... personal?"
"Ancient history."
"I like ancient history." His fingers trail down my arm before releasing me. "Perhaps you will tell me the tale sometime. Preferably over wine. Preferably alone."
Before I can respond, he strides away to join his men, leaving me flushed and off-balance.
I try to slip toward the east hall. I need to see my boys, to reassure myself they remain hidden. But a voice stops me cold.
"Well, well. The pig-girl lives."
I turn slowly. Astrid approaches with two attendants flanking her—different women than the giggling girls of our youth, but the same configuration of cruelty.
"Astrid." I keep my voice flat. "Or should I say, my lady?"
"You should kneel, actually." Her smile is poison dipped in honey. "I am your queen now, dear sister. Wife to the High King himself. Funny how fates turn, is it not?"
"Hilarious."
Her eyes narrow at my tone. This is not the cowering bastard she remembers, and the change unsettles her.
"I must say, I was shocked to learn you survived." She circles me slowly, examining my mail, my sword, my scarred hands. "When you vanished that night, I assumed you had done the sensible thing and drowned yourself. Yet here you are, playing as a warrior."
"I am not playing."
"No?" She laughs, light and musical and utterly false. "You dress in mail and carry a sword, but we both know what you truly are beneath the armor. A bastard. A pig-girl. A whore who spread her legs for drunk old men."
The words that once would have shattered me now slide off like water from oiled leather.
"Is that the story you tell yourself?" I step closer, and she retreats—just a half-step, but enough. "Is that what helps you sleep at night, knowing what you did to me?"
"What I did?" Her composure flickers. "I freed you from your tedious virtue. I did you a favor."
"You drugged me and left me expecting to be violated. But I survived. " My voice stays calm, controlled, deadly quiet. "I survived, and I became something you will never be. Someone who does not need a husband's name to command respect."
Astrid's face flushes with anger. "How dare you speak to me this way? I could have you whipped. I could have you executed!"
"You could try."
The threat hangs between us, and for the first time, I see fear flicker in my half-sister's eyes. She looks at my scarred hands, my warrior's stance, the sword at my hip that has tasted more blood than she can imagine.
"You have changed," she whispers.
"I have. But you remain exactly what you always were—a cruel little girl who mistakes cruelty for power."
Her hand rises as if to strike me, but she thinks better of it. Instead, she draws herself up, grasping for dignity. "Ragnar will hear of this. My husband will…"
"Your husband looked at me this morning like he wanted to devour me whole."
The words escape before I can stop them, and I watch them land like arrows.
"Perhaps you should worry less about my disrespect and more about keeping his attention."
Astrid's face goes white, then red. "You lying whore… You think you can seduce him away from me? You think—"
A horn blast cuts through her fury. Not the expected signal. Not a call to march. This is the alarm—sharp and desperate, echoing off the stone walls.
Shouts erupt from the courtyard. Steel rings against steel. The sounds of chaos, of violence, of battle arriving far sooner than anyone predicted.
"What is happening?" Astrid's voice rises with panic. "What is that sound?"
I am already moving, drawing my sword as I run toward the great hall's entrance. A warrior staggers through the doors, blood streaming from a wound on his scalp.
"Ormr's vanguard," he gasps. "They circled through the mountain pass. They are inside the walls now."
Inside the walls.
My blood turns to ice.
The boys. The east hall. If Ormr's men breach that far…
"Defend the hall!" I shout to the warriors nearby. "Protect the women and children!"
I push through the chaos toward the courtyard, where the real fighting rages. Ormr's men pour through a breach in the eastern gate, their numbers greater than the scouts reported.
This was a trap—a feint to draw attention while the true force struck from behind.
Ragnar's voice cuts through the din, commanding his warriors with the cold precision of a man born for battle. Leif fights beside him, copper hair flying, his sword carving arcs of crimson through the enemy ranks.
"Shield-maiden!" Leif's shout reaches me across the carnage. He grins, actually grins, blood splattered across his face, eyes alight with battle-joy. "Come fight beside me! I want to watch you work!"
Behind me, I hear Astrid screaming, her composure shattered into hysterical terror. The queen who mocked me moments ago now cowers behind overturned tables, utterly useless.
I do not look back. I raise my sword and plunge into the fray.
The battle swallows me whole. Ormr's men fall before my blade. One, two, five, I lose count. There is only the next enemy, the next threat, the next step toward the boys who must not be discovered.
Leif appears at my side, his sword singing as he cuts down a raider who lunged for my back.
"You fight like a goddess of war," he breathes, eyes blazing. "Remind me to never make you angry."
"Stay focused, my lord."
"Oh, I am focused." His grin turns wicked even as he parries another blow. "Entirely on you."
The fighting blurs into a red haze of violence and desperation.
And when it finally ends, when Ormr's forces break and flee, when the courtyard falls silent except for the groans of the wounded and dying, I stand with my sword dripping crimson, chest heaving, alive.