Darkest before Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 2) by Jayne Castel Page B

replied, slightly breathless. “Just weary.”
    On her lap, Osthryth started to wriggle. Her chubby hands
reached forward, grasping for the trencher.
    “Are you ready for the journey tomorrow?” Eanflaed asked,
not bothering to hide the note of vindictive pleasure in her voice. Clearly,
she had seen her stepdaughter’s pallor and sought to twist the knife. “I hear
you will leave at first light.”
    Alchflaed nodded. She was now struggling to prevent her
sister from planting herself headfirst in the trencher, and heartily wished she
could hand her back to the queen. However, Eanflaed was nursing Elflaeda; the
infant girl clung to her mother’s breast like a suckling wolf cub.
    “This marriage will be good for you,” Eanflaed continued.
“It is time you wed. You need calming down.”
    Alchflaed glowered at her stepmother. She did not
appreciate being spoken of as if she was an unbroken filly.
    “Even to our people’s enemy?” she replied, biting out the
words.
    “You will weave peace, as many women have done before
you,” Eanflaed sniffed. “It is an honor and you should be grateful for it.”
    Anger kindled in the pit of Alchflaed’s belly. This woman
was unbearably smug. She had Oswiu’s love, and would continue to reside at
Bebbanburg while Alchflaed was being sent away from the only home she had ever
known.
    Alchflaed drew herself up, her gaze narrowing.
    “I’m not grateful to be promised to a man who betrayed
his own father.”
    “That is because you are selfish and spoiled,” the queen
hit back, her voice growing shrill.
    “And you are a vain, arrogant woman who knows my father
will never love you like he did my mother.”
    Around them, conversation died away and Alchflaed felt
everyone turn to stare at her. Now that anger had caught fire in her veins, she
found herself not caring if they had an audience. Her father could make her do
his bidding; he could sacrifice her without a moment’s regret to the glory of
Northumbria, but that did not mean she had to pretend to like it.
    “That is why you are so willing to see me gone,”
Alchflaed continued, incensed now. “You would not be reminded of Rhieinmelth
and what she and my father shared.”
    Eanflaed struck out, the flat of her hand connecting with
Alchflaed’s cheek.
    “Your mother was a heathen slut!”
    Alchflaed’s reaction was instantaneous and unplanned. She
lashed out in response, her fist striking the queen square in the eye.
    Eanflaed screeched and fell back in her seat. In her
arms, Elflaeda let out a squawk as she was wrenched from her mother’s teat,
while upon Alchflaed’s lap, Osthryth started to cry.
    Oswiu’s voice cut off his young daughter’s whimpering. “Alchflaed!”
    She turned her gaze to her father and felt her temper
cool. His eyes blazed. His face was taut with barely suppressed rage.
    “You disgrace yourself – and me. Return to your bower for
the rest of the evening,” he commanded.
    “But fæder, she called my mother a…”
    “Enough!” Oswiu roared. “Get to your bower, or I will
give you the back of my hand!”
    Alchflaed glared at her father, at that moment hating him
with a force that scared her. Their gazes remained locked for a heartbeat,
before she dislodged Osthryth from her lap and rose to her feet. Then, without
another word, she quit her father’s hall.
     
    Maric watched the flame-haired princess stalk,
stiff-backed, across the hall, before she disappeared behind a tapestry.
    That had been quite a display.
    Around him, he could hear shocked whispers of
disapproval, while at the head of the table the king attempted to soothe his
hysterical wife. Queen Eanflaed clutched the eye the princess had struck, her
voice shrill.
    “You must have her whipped for this, Oswiu. You cannot
let such behavior go unpunished.”
    “Hush my love, she is leaving tomorrow,” the king
soothed, “that is punishment enough.”
    “No, it is not!” Eanflaed choked out between sobbing
gasps. “She struck