Darkest before Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 2) Read Free

crossed
the space to the high seat and took her place on the far right of the raised
platform, next to her sister by marriage. The dogs sat obediently at her feet,
tails wagging.
     
    Alchflaed cast a glance at Cyneburh and received a look
of cool censure in response. She had sensed the tension as soon as she entered
the hall, and the vexed look upon her father’s face now only confirmed it. Her
entrance had interrupted a brewing argument.
    She had observed the Mercian party closely as she
approached the high seat. Penda of Mercia was as she had imagined; cold, hard
and built like Thunor himself. The young man next to him – dark haired and
powerfully made – was definitely related to Penda, for he carried himself with
the same arrogance. However, it was the three men who stood with him that had intrigued
her: one dark, one blond, and the third red-haired.
    One, in particular, had drawn her eye. Tall and lean,
with long dark hair and pale skin, the warrior was dressed, head to foot, in
dark leather armor. He exuded a restless, contained energy, but it was his face
that drew her in. She had never seen a man with such defined cheekbones. He had
dark finely drawn eyebrows, an angular chin and jaw, and crystalline blue eyes.
His face was, simply put, beautiful.
    When their gazes met, it was as if someone had punched
her, just below the ribcage. Her breath had left her, and for a moment the
world stood still. Heart racing, she had torn her gaze away and forced herself
to keep walking.
    Now that she was seated, Alchflaed allowed her gaze to
return, once more, to the mysterious dark-haired Mercian warrior. He stood two
paces behind his king, and he appeared to be deliberately avoiding her gaze.
    Penda broke the weighty silence that had settled over the
hall.
    “She will bend to our ways easily enough. What will your
answer be, Oswiu? Shall we weave peace between our kingdoms? Shall Paeda and
Alchflaed be betrothed on this day?”
    Alchflaed’s attention jerked back to the Mercian King.
    Betrothed.
    For the first time, she looked properly at the young man
standing at Penda’s side. He was staring at her, a look of naked hunger upon
his face. Alchflaed’s stomach knotted as the reality of Penda of Mercia’s visit
took hold. She broke out into a cold sweat and tore her gaze from his, staring
down at the rush-strewn floor beneath the platform.
    “I think not,” Oswiu’s response brought both relief and
dread rushing forth within Alchflaed. “I tire of the games you play.”
    “And what games are they?”
    “This mask of friendship you wear every time we meet. You
killed my brother. You butchered his corpse and hung his remains in a tree for
the crows to feed on. Yet, you come here and speak as if another wedding
between our families will mend things.”
    “Oswald fell in battle,” Penda rumbled. “What my men
chose to do with his corpse was their business.”
    “Do you think me a fool?” Oswiu snarled. “The last
marriage did nothing to ease your warmongering. You wish to rule these lands.
Wedding my daughter to your son is just a ruse.”
    “So you will not agree to the match?”
    Oswiu leaned forward and spat on the rushes at the foot
of the high seat. Alchflaed stared at her father, shocked. She had rarely seen
him so incensed. His face had gone white and pinched, his eyes were dark with
rage. His hatred for Penda was palpable.
    “It is you who is the fool, Penda. You are no longer
welcome at Bebbanburg.”
    “So you would make me your enemy?” Penda replied, his pale
eyes glittering.
    “I am already your enemy,” Oswiu snarled back. “Your word
means nothing to me. Enough with the pretense. Be gone from my hall.”
    Penda favored Oswiu with a long, dark look.
    “Very well, you have made your choice. The next time we
meet, it will be in battle – and I will show you no mercy.”
    With these words spoken, the King of Mercia turned, his
wolfskin-pelt cloak billowing behind him. His son hesitated, his gaze