CHAPTER 3
ASTRID’S POV
The voice came again through the wooden door, and this time there was no mistaking the threat behind it. My blood turned to ice in my veins as I heard him repeat the command, each word cutting through the air like a blade.
“Open the door now!”
Fear gripped me so tightly I couldn’t breathe. My whole body went rigid, and I found myself unable to move from where I sat pressed against the door. This was really happening.
The Viking King was here, right outside my room, and he wasn’t going to wait much longer for me to obey him.
I wanted to call out to my father, to beg him to make this monster go away, but my voice seemed to have disappeared completely.
All I could do was sit there, frozen in terror, hoping against hope that maybe the door would hold. Maybe if I stayed quiet enough, he would get tired of waiting and leave.
But I should have known better. Men like Ragnar Thornegrim didn’t get tired of waiting. They took what they wanted.
It only took a second. One moment I was sitting against the door, and the next moment the entire thing came flying off its hinges with a crash that shook the whole house. Wood splintered and flew everywhere as the door landed somewhere behind me with a thunderous bang.
He stood in the doorway like some terrible giant from the old stories. His massive frame filled the entire opening, blocking out the light from the hallway behind him.
His long dark hair was still damp with sweat from the battle, and there were streaks of blood on his face and clothes. But it was his eyes that terrified me the most.
They were cold and blue as winter ice, and they were fixed on me with an intensity that made me feel like a rabbit caught in a trap.
“I don’t like to repeat myself,” he said, his voice deadly quiet now. “When I give an order, I expect it to be followed immediately.”
I scrambled backward across the floor, trying to put distance between us, but there was nowhere to go.
My room was small, and he was blocking the only way out. I pressed myself against the far wall, my heart beating so fast I thought it might burst.
“Please,” I whispered, finally finding my voice. “Please don’t hurt me.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his head slightly and called out to someone behind him. “Come in.”
Two of his warriors appeared in the doorway. They were almost as big as he was, with the same cold eyes and bloodstained weapons. They looked at me like I was nothing more than a piece of cargo that needed to be moved.
“Grab her,” Ragnar ordered, and his men stepped forward without hesitation.
“No!” I screamed, finally breaking free from the paralysis that had held me. “No, please! Father! Father, help me!”
But when the warriors’ rough hands grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet, I saw my father standing in the hallway behind them. He was just standing there, watching, doing nothing to help me.
His face was pale and his hands were clenched at his sides, but he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t trying to save me.
“Father, please!” I cried out again, struggling against the iron grip of the Vikings. “Please don’t let them take me! I’m your daughter!”
His eyes met mine for just a moment, and I saw the pain there. But I also saw something else. Resignation. He had already made his choice, and it wasn’t me.
“I’m sorry, Astrid,” he said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”
Those words hit me harder than any physical blow could have. My own father was sorry, but he was still going to let them drag me away. He was still going to let this happen to me.
I fought against the Vikings holding me, kicking and scratching and trying to break free, but they were too strong.
They lifted me off my feet like I weighed nothing and carried me out of my room, down the hallway, and out of the house that had been my home for my entire life.
The courtyard was full of people from our village. They had been herded together like sheep, and they all turned to stare as I was dragged past them. I saw faces I had known my whole life. People I had helped when they were sick or injured. Children I had told stories to. Elderly people I had cared for.
And they all just watched. They watched as I was carried away, screaming and crying for help that would never come. Some of them looked sad. Some looked frightened. But none of them tried to help me.
The Vikings had brought their longships right up to our shore, and I could see them waiting in the water like massive sea monsters.
The warriors carrying me didn’t slow down as they approached the boats. They just waded right into the cold water and tossed me into the bottom of the nearest ship like a sack of grain.
I landed hard on the wooden planks, the breath knocked out of me. Before I could recover, more Vikings were climbing in around me. I heard Ragnar’s voice giving orders, though I couldn’t make out the words over the sound of my own sobbing.
Then the ship was moving, pulling away from the shore and everything I had ever known. I managed to sit up and look back at my village, getting smaller and smaller in the distance. I could see the smoke still rising from the burned buildings. I could see the people still standing in the courtyard, watching us leave.
And I could see my father, still standing there, still doing nothing.
The journey seemed to last forever. The sun moved across the sky, and my tears eventually dried up, leaving me feeling empty and hollow inside.
The Vikings didn’t speak to me or even look at me much. I was just cargo to them, something to be transported from one place to another.
I tried to keep track of where we were going, but after a while all the coastline looked the same. Rocky cliffs and dark water and grey sky stretching on forever. I had never been this far from home before. I had never been anywhere, really. My whole world had been our little village, and now that world was gone.
Finally, just as the sun was beginning to set, I saw something different on the horizon. It was another shoreline, but this one had buildings. Lots of them. Big wooden halls and smaller houses clustered together, with smoke rising from countless chimneys. This had to be where the Vikings lived. This had to be Ragnar’s home.
The ship scraped against a wooden dock, and immediately Vikings were jumping out and securing the ropes. I stayed huddled in the bottom of the boat, hoping they would forget about me, but that hope was short-lived.
Strong hands grabbed me again and pulled me to my feet. My legs were shaky from sitting in the same position for so long, and I nearly fell as they helped me onto the dock.
The wood was slippery with sea spray, and everything smelled like fish and salt and tar.
I looked around at this strange new place, trying to take it all in. There were people everywhere, but they all looked different from the people in my village. Harder. More dangerous. They stared at me with curious eyes as I was led through the streets, and I heard them talking in their foreign language.
Ragnar walked beside me now, his long strides making it hard for me to keep up.
He didn’t say anything, just kept moving forward toward the largest building I had ever seen. It was made of dark wood and stone, with carved dragon heads decorating the roof. This had to be his hall, his home.
We stopped in front of the massive wooden doors, and that’s when everything changed.
Ragnar turned to look at me, and for the first time since he had broken down my door, his expression wasn’t completely cold. There was something else there now. Something that made my skin crawl.
His voice, when he spoke, was different too. Softer, but somehow more terrifying than when he had been shouting orders.
He stared at me with those intense blue eyes, and I felt like he was seeing right through me. Then he leaned closer, close enough that I could smell the leather and steel and something else that was uniquely him.
“Get ready for your feast tonight,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tonight, you become mine.”
A cold shiver darted down my spine, and I knew that whatever was about to happen, my old life was truly over.
