Something Wicked by Skye Ella

Author:Skye, Ella [Skye, Ella]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Ella Skye
Published: 2011-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Morning dawned at Barak castle, staining the stone with its winter-weakened fingers. Olaf watched as the rays drifted across Halfdan’s face, their heat waking him with a shiver. The jarl moved like a man in pain, likely wondering why his bed held such little comfort. Then he was awake, bolt upright, and rubbing his weary eyes.

“You’ve looked better,” Olaf said.

“No thanks to you.” Halfdan slumped back into the armchair.

Olaf yawned and winced at the pain in his lip.

“May justice always be so swift,” Halfdan chuckled.

Then silence fell until Olaf, unable to meet Halfdan’s gaze, said, “I…I owe you…for….”

“You’d have done the same.”

Olaf fingered the contusion along his cheekbone. “A gift from you?”

Halfdan shook his head. “The floor. You passed out.”

“I can hold more liquor than that. For God’s sake, I didn’t even leave my room. There hasn’t been more than a decanter full of mead in here since…”

“You drank all of it,” the jarl interjected.

“Still,” the king continued, trying to distance himself from emotion. “I’ve had worse and done better.”

“You really don’t remember anything?” There was an unreadable expression on Halfdan’s face.

“I remember finding what you secreted in my cloak.” Olaf flexed against the torc circling his bicep. Assuming he must have put it on himself, his eyes flashed back to those of his friend. “Gave me a nasty turn, so I poured myself a drink.”

Suddenly Olaf remembered more. “I woke him up, didn’t I? Oh, Christ, did he see me like this?”

The jarl shook his head. “Mari did.”

Olaf regretted that. “I remember her coming in. I…I think I told her about Aisling. Settled me with that infuriatingly calm manner of hers.” He frowned. “Then Sigrid came in and said Áedán was screaming. Apparently his arm got caught between the bed and wall.” There was more. He struggled to think, Why didn’t she free him herself?

Fury blazed through him as the king realized the distance of his son’s bed from the wall was wide enough for him to walk behind. Struggling to get up, he felt Halfdan’s hands push him down.

“He’s fine, tell me the rest.”

Legs crooked over the mattress’s edge, Olaf growled, “I moved his bed and Mari got him some ice. Eventually he fell back to sleep, and I returned here. Why?”

“Were you alone?”

“No, Sigrid was here,” Olaf admitted, an involuntary pang of lust surging through him. “She asked if she could help. When I told her no, she insisted on finishing off the decanter. So we shared a drink and…” Images of his hands on her skin heated his cheeks.

“She put an opiate in your glass,” Halfdan explained. “You blacked out and hit your head.”

“But I can feel her on my lips, her hands on my skin…”

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t have,” the jarl conceded, “but the fact remains something stopped you.”

A snake, coiled and silver, sprung from the darkness and into the dawn of Olaf’s memory. Fangs bared, it leapt at the woman and would have marked its prey had his foot not moved forward.

Sharp pain burned Olaf’s leg, and he tore away the leather encasing his left ankle.

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