ASTRID’S POV

The royal court was nothing like I had imagined. I had expected grandeur, certainly, but I hadn’t been prepared for the suffocating atmosphere of barely contained malice that seemed to permeate every stone of the massive castle.

From the moment we rode through the towering gates, I could feel eyes watching our every move, calculating and predatory.

The courtyard was filled with richly dressed nobles and their servants, all of them turning to stare as we dismounted from our travel-worn horses.

King Harald the Ruthless stood at the top of the castle steps, waiting to greet us. He was not what I had expected either.

Instead of the savage barbarian king I had pictured, he was a man of perhaps fifty years with silver threading through his dark hair and an easy smile that somehow made him more frightening than any scowl could have.

There was intelligence in his pale eyes, and a kind of casual cruelty that suggested he found amusement in others’ suffering.

“Ragnar Thornegrim,” the king called out, his voice carrying easily across the courtyard. “The Wolf of the Northern Seas graces us with his presence at last.”

There was something in his tone that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It sounded welcoming enough, but underneath the pleasantries was a current of mockery that everyone present could hear.

Ragnar climbed the steps with measured dignity, and I followed close behind him.

“My king,” Ragnar said, offering a respectful bow that somehow managed to maintain his dignity. “I came as soon as I received your summons.”

“Of course you did,” Harald replied, his smile never wavering. “And you brought your new bride. How delightful.”

His gaze shifted to me, and I felt like a deer that had suddenly found itself in the sights of a hunter. Those pale eyes seemed to see right through me, cataloging my weaknesses and filing them away for future use.

“Lady Astrid,” he said, taking my hand and raising it to his lips in a gesture that was perfectly courteous and somehow insulting at the same time. “Your beauty is even more remarkable than the stories suggested. Ragnar is a fortunate man indeed.”

The words were complimentary, but the way he said them made my skin crawl. There was something possessive in his gaze, something that suggested he was already imagining ways to use my presence here to his advantage.

“You honor me, Your Majesty,” I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the way my heart was racing.

“Come,” the king said, still holding my hand longer than was proper. “You must be weary from your travels. We have prepared chambers for you, and tonight we feast in your honor.”

A feast in our honor. The words should have been welcoming, but they sounded more like a threat.

The chambers we were given were luxurious beyond anything I had ever experienced.

Tapestries covered the walls, depicting scenes of battles and hunts in rich colors that seemed to glow in the firelight.

The bed was enormous, draped with silk curtains and covered in furs that were softer than clouds. There was even a small antechamber with a bronze tub for bathing.

But luxury couldn’t hide the fact that we were essentially prisoners here. I noticed that our guards had been housed in a different part of the castle, far from us. I noticed that there were always servants hovering nearby, ready to help with anything we might need but also perfectly positioned to observe and report on our every move.

“This is a trap,” I whispered to Ragnar as we prepared for the evening’s feast.

“I know,” he replied grimly. “But we’re committed now. All we can do is play the game and hope we’re cleverer than our opponents.”

The feast was a glittering affair held in the castle’s great hall. The room was enormous, with vaulted ceilings that disappeared into shadow and walls lined with banners representing the various noble houses that owed allegiance to the king.

Long tables groaned under the weight of elaborate dishes – roasted peacock stuffed with fruits and nuts, whole salmon garnished with herbs, platters of exotic delicacies I didn’t recognize.

I had been given a dress for the occasion, delivered to our chambers by silent servants.

It was beautiful – deep blue silk with silver embroidery that caught the light when I moved – but it was also cut lower than anything I would have chosen for myself. I felt exposed and vulnerable as I took my place at the high table beside Ragnar.

The king made a great show of welcoming us publicly, raising his cup in a toast that praised Ragnar’s service to the realm and my beauty in terms that made me want to sink into the floor.

The assembled nobles cheered and drank, but I could see the calculation behind their smiles.

“To the loveliest addition to our court,” Harald said, his eyes fixed on me with that same predatory intensity I had noticed earlier. “May your stay here be… educational.”

The way he said ‘educational’ made my blood run cold, but I smiled and nodded as if I were honored by his attention.

As the evening wore on, the king’s true nature became more apparent. In public, he continued to shower me with elaborate compliments, praising my grace and beauty to anyone who would listen. But when we spoke privately, during the brief moments when Ragnar was distracted by other conversations, his words took on a different tone entirely.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured during one such moment, leaning close enough that I could smell the wine on his breath. “I do hope Ragnar appreciates what he has. Foreign wives can be so… fragile. So easily lost if one isn’t careful.”

The threat was barely veiled, and I felt Ragnar tense beside me even though he was supposedly engaged in conversation with another nobleman. He had heard every word, and I could see the muscle in his jaw twitching with barely controlled rage.

The court ladies were no better than their king. They gathered in small groups throughout the evening, their voices raised just loud enough for me to hear their comments.

They critiqued everything about me – my weight, my dress, my hair, my mannerisms, my accent. They laughed behind their silk fans, making jokes about rural customs and foreign ignorance.

“Did you see how she holds her cup?” one of them whispered loudly. “Like a peasant at a harvest festival.”

“And that accent,” another added with a tinkling laugh. “So charming in its… simplicity.”

“I heard she was a healer before Ragnar claimed her,” a third woman said, her voice dripping with disdain. “How quaint. Perhaps she can brew us some folk remedies for our amusement.”

Each comment was like a small knife sliding between my ribs, but I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me react. I kept my head high and my expression serene, even though inside I was burning with humiliation and anger.

I could feel Ragnar watching me throughout the evening, his ice-blue eyes never straying far from my face.

He saw the way the court ladies whispered and giggled, saw the way the king’s compliments carried hidden barbs, saw the way I was being systematically undermined and humiliated.

But he also saw something else. He saw that I wasn’t breaking.

Despite the cruelty of the court, despite the obvious trap we had walked into, despite the fear that gnawed at my stomach like a living thing, I refused to cry. I refused to cower or flee or give our enemies the satisfaction of seeing me defeated.

When Lady Ingrid, the king’s own sister, made a particularly vicious comment about my “rustic charm,” I simply smiled and thanked her for her kind words.

When Lord Sweyn questioned whether I was truly worthy of a jarl as renowned as Ragnar, I looked him straight in the eye and asked if he was questioning my husband’s judgment.

Each small victory seemed to fuel my courage for the next challenge. By the end of the evening, I could see a change in the way some of the courtiers looked at me.

The mockery was still there, but it was tempered now with something that might have been respect.

As we finally made our way back to our chambers, Ragnar took my arm and leaned close to my ear.

“You were magnificent tonight,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “They tried to break you, and you stood like a queen among them.”

The pride in his voice made something warm bloom in my chest, pushing back the cold fear that had been my companion all evening.

He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

In that moment, despite the danger surrounding us, despite the enemies closing in from all sides, I felt something settle into place between us.