Stolen by the Viking by Eliza Carter

Author:Eliza Carter
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2019-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

IN WHICH SOREN realizes he cares about Tilda’s welfare...even when she’s trying to kill him...

Soren watched Tilda guzzle the poisoned mead. He leapt toward her as quickly as his wobbly legs would allow and knocked the pitcher out of her hands. It fell and shattered in pieces at her feet. “So not only are you a murderer, you’re a suicidal lunatic as well? What is the matter with you?”

“For the thousandth time, ’twill not kill you! I drank it so you would believe me! Now we shall both be sick.”

“’Tis so comforting to know we shall vomit together.”

She preened at his sarcasm. “I thought you would appreciate the gesture.”

“Lady, you’d better flee to your chamber and get yourself the entire fyrd to guard the entrance, for I’m going to try to find you and strangle you when I regain my strength.”

“You are most ungrateful!” she scolded. “I did not have to drink the mead, but I made the sacrifice for you. And I am feeling most unwell.” She fled around the hall into the darkness. She would do herself a mischief if she did not tread carefully.

He ran after her. “Where are you going?”

“The piggery,” came a muffled response. She must be holding her hands to her mouth. He knew, because so was he.

“Why in Hel are you visiting the pigs now? You really are daft!”

“I’m going to vomit over the fence. The pigs will take care of it.”

“They’ll think it’s a delicacy. That is quite clever of you.”

“’Tis disgusting!”

“Aye, that too. Mayhap I’ll join you. I bet I can puke farther.”

The dam burst forth, and Tilda lost her supper in the pigpen. Impressive. Mayhap he could not win the competition. “Wait! The pigs won’t die from the poison, will they?”

“’Tis not poison!” she fairly screamed. “How many times do I have to say it? Anyway, they have stomachs of iron.”

Soren did not know how long he and Tilda spent at the piggery fence, but he knew that having her by his side made him far less miserable. After what seemed like an eternity, but what was probably only an hour, he felt certain there was nothing left in his stomach. “I’m going to go pass out now.”

“Aye, a good idea,” she agreed. She looked terrible. Eyes sunken. Cheeks pinched. She swayed where she stood.

“You must drink some clean water, Lady. Slow, small sips.”

“Then you must as well, Lord.”

“I shall. And Tilda?”

“Yes?” she said wearily.

“Be prepared. Tomorrow, I’m going to strangle you.”

“All right, then. Good night.”

He chuckled into the silence. Even being sick together was some of the most fun he’d ever had.

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