The Iron Princess (20 page)

Tears welled up in her eyes and she chewed on her lip. Her father never yelled at her like this.

Magnus let out a loud sigh.

“We had arrived in Prague when she developed the fever.” Lothair interjected to direct her father’s attention away from Katia. Even in her father’s house, he was shielding her. “The healer did what he could, but the muscle is damaged, and she bears a large scar on her right shoulder. We had to burn the pestilence out. We were lucky to save her arm.”

“And from there you sent your messengers out?” her father asked Lothair.

“Aye. We were not certain how long her recovery would take. At first I feared—”

“He was convinced I was dying. But I was fine within a week. He threatened not to let me ride for a month—” Katia shut her mouth when she saw the cross expression on both of their faces.

“Katia,” her father started, appearing a hint calmer, “I have done wrong by you. Your mother said that I should never force you into a marriage, but that I still needed to assign you a role, because without purpose and direction, you would go astray.” He sighed loudly. “You have gone astray, little heart. You would throw your life to the wolves on an ill-conceived plot of heroism, and for what? I should have married you off to the prince Count Charles picked for you years ago.”

Lothair locked eyes with the jarl. “Is that why you called us in here—to explain to Katia why she should be untangled from our marriage contract, so she can marry another?”

Katia shot to her feet, but before she could say anything, he grabbed her arm.

“Katia, be quiet!” Lothair shouted. “I am not giving her up, jarl. I will petition the duke to enforce trade restrictions on your steel. I will go to the Pope if I have to. She swore an oath before God to be my wife and signed the contract of her own free will. Our marriage is real and was consummated many times over.”

“Lothair! How dare you say such things in front of my far?” Her face was bright red as she stormed past him and out the door.

Lothair looked awkwardly over his shoulder to see the jarl holding his hands over his ears like a child afraid to hear a terrifying tale.

“I need ale. Come,” Magnus grunted and headed for the secondary hall, where the soldiers took their meals. They didn’t speak to one another. Guardsmen, men at arms, and a few of Lothair’s own guards were sitting around, drinking. They spoke of sport, and the winter hunt that was to come. Going out and killing a few angered wolves sounded pretty good to Lothair right about now, anything to take his mind off the insufferable Baroness Blienskastel.

“When will they be back from the hunt?” Katia kneeled on the window seat in her mother’s private chamber, watching the men assemble in the yard in the early morning light.

“A month, perhaps two,” her mother answered.

“A month!” Really, Katia knew the answer before she had asked, but this was the first time she would be actually counting down the days.

“Have you apologized to him yet?” her mother asked. She sat across the room, sewing productively, while Katia only managed to pretend to sew.

“Apologized to Far? Aye, you were there last night. We hugged and that is that.”

“No, Katia, I meant Lothair, your husband. Have you apologized to him?”

“I have nothing to apologize for!”

Her mother gave her a look that said,
I am not even going to waste my precious breath arguing with you because I am right and you are wrong.
Katia hated that look.

“You did leave your husband in Lubeck while you stole away in the night, without telling him where you were going.”

“Mama!” Katia heard herself whining and it was starting to annoy even her. Why did her mother always make her feel like she was ten years old? “He knew from the day he met me in Bogolyubovo where I was going. I only ever spoke about going home to Tronscar. And then he said I could not go till spring. Why are you defending him? I am your daughter. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Perhaps Lothair had good reason to fear an icy winter crossing. Especially after you had been so ill recently. You did wed him, Katia. I am not taking sides, but I want the best for your marriage.”

Katia flopped her head back, smacking it against the wood backing of the chair. “But he always said he never wanted a wife and he always calls me a little chit when I cry and he never says nice things to me.” She moaned pathetically.

“He cares deeply for you and you clearly have feelings for him. It will take time to work out your differences, but he is a good man.”

“Mama! Stop sticking up for him. He will never love me and will most likely go off to war the first chance he gets and leave me like he is leaving me now.” To make her point, she pointed out the window to the assembly of men waiting to depart on the hunting trip.

“Katia, I will not say a cross word against Lothair because when you finally figure out how to properly speak to one another, you are going to be very much in love and very happy. Then all you will remember is that your mother said something terrible about your sainted husband and you will be cross at me for years.”

“I would never.” Katia crossed her arms.

“Yes, you will. Your grandma once said some very true but very harsh words against your father, Urho. It took me ten years to forgive her. And she was absolutely correct in her warning to me. Lothair brought my babe home to me safe and in one piece. I will always be at his service.”

“Oh, Mother. If Lothair is so great, why don’t you marry him?” Katia stomped out of the chamber and down the hall to her own room, smashed the door open, and flopped down on her bed.

“There you are.” Lothair entered the room, closed the door, and came over to her. “I’m leaving for the hunt immediately,” he said. She moved off the bed and stood before him.

“Have a—”

He swept his arms around her waist, raising her to his level, and kissed her hard. Her toes curled and she locked her legs around his waist. He grabbed hold of her bottom and hoisted her up higher, staggered a few steps forward, and crashed down on the bed on top of her. He clawed at her skirt as she yanked at his belt, all the while never breaking their kiss.

Katia thought she heard a smothered sneeze, but she ignored it and carried on her mission to free Lothair from his trousers. Lothair pushed up her skirt but then froze suddenly. Abruptly, he pushed off the bed and dropped down to the floor.

“Can I help you lads with anything?” Lothair asked.

“Who’s there?” Katia gasped and sat up. “Aron, Ansgar, you little toads.”

“All right you two, show is over.” He swatted at them both lightly and chuckled as they fled for the door. He closed and bolted the door after them, turning his attention back to Katia, his humor fading quickly.

Still standing across the chamber from her, Lothair dropped his belt to the floor and unlaced his trousers. She wiggled out of her own garments and he strode across the room. He picked her up and entered her a moment later. She never knew that you could make love standing up, and now that she did, she believed she did not want it any other way. She clenched around him, clinging to his shoulders, her muscles screaming, her mouth latched to his neck as she cried out her climax soon after. With one hand on her bottom and one hand on her back, he held her weight, lifting her up and down, plunging into her deeper and deeper, again and again.

Outside this chamber they fought like cats and dogs. Inside this chamber, they were united in purpose, matched in passion, and exchanged only looks of adoration and acceptance. When Lothair released deep inside her, she whimpered gently. He crushed her tight to his body. She prayed that he would never let her go.

Bang, bang, bang
. “Lothair, we’re all waiting for you,” her brother Hök called through the door.

He searched her eyes, looking like he didn’t know how to express himself.

“Have a pleasant time killing small furry creatures,” she whispered.

“Do not get into any trouble while I am gone,” he said against her lips. “I will be back. Soon,” he whispered against her ear, kissing and biting at the lobe. They dressed quickly, and he kissed her lips once more before unbolting the door. The twins stood at the ready, with queer expressions on their faces.

“Far said to hurry up,” Hök said and Lothair nodded, reaching for his hunting knife.

***

“I am sorry, Lothair.” She spoke softly. “I never apologized for leaving you. For not . . . you are my husband and . . . I should not have left,” she said sincerely. He thought that his heart would burst. She called him her husband, at last accepting her role as his wife.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” He marched straight back, scooped her up in his arms, and kissed her again, fiercely at first, and then more tenderly. Katia started to giggle.

“I like it when you do that,” he groaned in her ear as he kissed her neck one last time.

“Do what?”

“Smile at me like that.”

“I think you once told me I smile too much.”

“No, I said I don’t like the fake smiles. The real ones . . .” He kissed her again to explain what words could not. “Come see me off. It is the wifely thing to do, I think.”

In the yard, the men were waiting for him with arched brows, shaking their heads, fully aware of what had delayed Lothair’s departure. Nothing slowed down a hunting party more than a smiling young wife.

***

After two days spent on the hunt, Lothair had collected a few dozen white ermine pelts, out of which he hoped to make a cloak for Katia. He had to admit he was enjoying himself, but when one of her brothers, Stål, came down with a winter gripe, Lothair volunteered to take him back to Tronscar. The older men taunted him, saying he was far too eager to return to his wife. All but Jarl Magnus, that is. He simply scowled.

On the short ride back to Tronscar, Lothair spoke at length with Stål. The lad was bright and quick to offer up a joke or funny tale. His stories of Katia were almost always the same: they all worshipped her. They tormented her continually only to gain her notice and attention.

Katia ran to them from across the yard moments after the outer gates had opened. “What’s wrong?” she demanded at the sight of Stål riding behind Lothair, slumped against Lothair’s back.

“Nothing more than a winter gripe, your father expects.” A guard helped Stål down from the saddle and the boy sprung up like nothing was wrong—much like his sister did when she was ill, Lothair observed.

“I’m fine, Kat. Just need a hot drink and I will be back out with the hunt,” the young lad said drowsily.

“Nice try. Tero’s got the tonic for what allies you.” His wife smoothed the boy’s brow as Lida rushed out of the upper gates to meet them. The family fussed over the lad and saw him straight to bed.

***

An hour later, Lothair was lounging in the cedar and stone hut, enjoying a cleansing steam. Letting the dry heat sink under the layers of cold, he felt years of strain melting away, tightness that he’d carried around for most of his life, the tension of living in his father’s shadow, living a life of lies.

There was something shifting in him. He felt it more every day. Being around a loud, loving, large family was soothing and eye opening. He let his mind wander to the possibility that this comfort and contentment could become his life every day.

This shift in him, the lightening of his heart, had everything to do with being around Katia, from feeling the silent, reassuring connection with someone that he knew accepted him, his faults, lies, secrets, and all. And the lovemaking wasn’t hurting his soul either.

“What are you thinking about that has put such a smile on your face?”

He opened his eyes to see Katia standing at the entry, smiling gently, wrapped in nothing more than a small drying cloth.

Lothair reached out and pulled his wife to him. “Hello, Baroness Blienskastel,” he said playfully, biting her delicate ear, relishing the feeling of her squirming on his lap. She twisted in his arms and kissed him, hard, pulling away the cloth draped around her.

He made love to his wife twice in the sauna. The first time was almost combative, both of them slippery with sweat as they fought for control, both rushing toward a quick indulgent release. With the urgency between them quieted, they rinsed off with cold water and came together again. This time, their joining was slower and lazy, tender.

After, she retrieved a handful of silver birch branches and soaked the leaves. She kneeled behind him on the bench and lightly slapped his back with the softened leaves, attending to every muscle on his body. The crisp, clean scent of the birch purifying his skin and lungs and the oil released from the leaves soothed his fatigued joints, right down to his most fatigued muscle, his pessimistic heart. Her touch was rousing, but in a wholly new way—a wifely way.

He didn’t want to leave the sauna, though the hour had grown very late and Katia’s stomach kept growling. They had probably missed the serving of the evening meal. Wrapped in dressing robes, they headed back inside, slipping up the rear stairs to avoid the main hall.

“Thank you for taking such good care of Stål,” she said as they ascended the stairs arm in arm. “He is very fond of you.”

“And you?” he asked, dropping his head down to nip at her ear.

“And I what?” she giggled. She had forgotten what they were discussing.

“Are you fond of me?”

“Fond of you? Lothair, you should have guessed that much by now. You’re the greatest man I’ve ever met.” She blushed. “When I met you all those years ago, how you treated me in the sparing ring—you were confident, but still humble and accepting. I thought you could walk on water itself. Why in heaven’s name did you think I pounced on you in the stable?”

“
I
pounced on
you
,” he corrected.

“You most certainly did not. I threw myself into your arms like a sack of wheat. You were the most . . . most
everything
that I had ever seen.” She smiled and he crushed his lips to hers. A chorus of snickering soon followed. Lothair turned to face their audience.

“In your opinion, did I kiss her or did she kiss me?” he asked. The three little boys scratched their heads.

“She kissed you,” Zander said, and winked at his sister. Clearly Katia had Zander in her pocket.

“You’re bigger, you kissed her.” Ansgar pointed clearly at Katia. Lothair turned to Katia smugly.

“Aron?” She wasn’t giving in.

“She . . . you . . . kissing is gross.” Aron turned tail and ran back to his chamber, his brothers in hot pursuit.

Laughing, Lothair swept her up in his arms and strode with confidence down the long corridor to her chamber.

***

Katia lay in bed late one morning, curled into Lothair’s warm side. Something felt wrong, she could feel it in her gut, but she had no idea as to the source of the feeling.

Three cold and dark winter months had seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Katia now wore a new ermine fur cloak—a gift from her husband—her father no longer grunted with annoyance every time Lothair entered a room, and her tribe of brothers had less time to torment her because of all the new games that Lothair was continually introducing them to. Katia had even, on occasion, found herself jealous of all the time he spent with the boys. With each passing day, Katia realized that she and Lothair talked more and argued less.

They spent time each day locked away in their chamber or the sauna, and took long, private strolls in the surrounding forest. It was the most enjoyable winter Katia had ever passed. But then why did she have a darkening gloom creeping up from her belly? It was as if she had forgotten something dreadfully important.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she stretched and shifted in bed. The something she was worried about had distilled itself into a sound. She sat up in bed. It was a smell, too. She flicked the sheet off her legs and slipped out of bed. As she crept toward the covered window, the sounds grew louder. She stood naked by the window, holding the fur-lined curtain open.

“Katia!” Lothair called out sleepily from bed.

“Lothair, listen,” she said with growing distress. “Can you hear that? The snow is melting off the roof. It is spring.”