Free Death Blow by Jianne Carlo Page A

grievous offense in declining her generous offer.” He narrowed his eyes and his nostrils flared. Spirals of misty grey smoke eddied and for, a moment, he appeared to have breathed a dragon’s fire. She stepped back and bumped into someone.
    “I take no offense, Konáll. Be easy. Well pleased I am to meet you, Lady Nyssa, and to offer you my support.” The Viking had confused her so she had not noticed the others who had joined them at the fire.
    Nyssa disliked Lady Grelod on sight.
    Petite, with full breasts, a crimped waist, and generous hips made to bear a brood of children, she stood with an easy regal grace and flashed all assembled a dazzling smile. Burnished, ebony hair fell in glorious waves to Grelod’s knees.
    “I echo my wife’s sentiments, Lady Nyssa. We are both content with Konáll’s choice of bride and verra satisfied we are to be both neighbors and allies.”
    So this was Thōrfin the Skullsplitter, the famed warrior who had brought peace and prosperity to his inherited lands, but who ne’er hesitated to slay any and all who thwarted his rule. His head barely met the top of Konáll’s shoulder. He had a swarthy complexion, a stout torso, and thick, heavily muscled legs. Battle scars ravaged his face and one eyebrow drooped lower than the other. His dark eyes twinkled when he grinned, displaying a row of even, unchipped teeth.
    Nyssa sank into a deep curtsey and bowed her head. “I am honored to meet you, Earl Thōrfin. My Da spoke often of your father and their fostering years.”
    “Rise, Lady Nyssa. We are not at court and have no need of formalities. Let us see to the vow saying and the consummation this eve. On the morrow, we plan the battle for Castle Caerleah.”
    She jerked up to meet his gaze. “You assist in the retaking of my keep?”
    With Thōrfin’s mighty army fighting alongside Konáll and Dráddør, the battle would be short and swift, and victory assured. Da would be avenged, and her people saved. Elation bubbled through her veins.
    “Aye. Konáll and I are sworn allies. We both serve King Harald. As does this man, Olaf Longface. He is the Lovesingman assigned to this region.” Thōrfin gestured to the man standing at his side, whose three chins jiggled when he nodded to her.
    Exultation had her impatient for the dawn. Nyssa curtsied again. “I bid you welcome, Lord Olaf.”
    “Here comes the priest.” Konáll angled his head at a round man of short stature waddling in their direction.
    Nyssa eyed the priest. He had a belly a sea otter would envy and wore a muddy burlap robe. The priest bowed to Lady Grelod who gifted the holy man with a wide smile.
    Nyssa stifled an oath. Her hopes for a strong ally in the holy man faded for ’twould seem he served both God and the Lady Grelod.
     
    * * *
     
    “Your betrothed wears the look of a woman with a scheme,” Thōrfin muttered. “’Tis an expression I have learned to dread on my Grelod. Somewhat is amiss.”
    Konáll studied the two women. Grelod had pulled Nyssa aside and had engaged her in an earnest conversation. “Methinks you err. Your wife seeks to calm Nyssa’s nerves. ’Tis all.”
    “Agreed, brother. The Lady Nyssa’s fingers trembled when I escorted her here. And her palms were icy.” Dráddør stretched his hands to the roaring flames. “I envy you not this night of a maiden’s fears. You found the harem master’s tools in your chest?”
    “Aye.” Dráddør would ne’er know the dildo had saved Konáll’s pecker from greening and withering.
    “The aphrodisiac oil I had the foresight to pack in your trunk will ease the pain when you take her maidenhead. She seems spirited, your betrothed.”
    Konáll stifled a snort. Spirited? ’Twas not the word he would use to describe Nyssa. Brave, foolishly so, yes. Strong as an ox. And not wise enough to fear any man nor beast. He had not had a chance to speak with Dráddør and tell him of Nyssa’s jötunn mother. Or the curse or the breaking of it. ’Twould