Blood Moon| The Last Kingdom| Sihtric Kjartansson

FORTY

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"Your Majesty!"

I dismissed the council who bowed to me with a wave of my hand, Saga and my father's guardsmen, amongst them. "Why was I not informed sooner?"

"We have just received word," Saga replied calmly, "your spies were within the walls of Eforwic, only one lives to tell us of what has befallen them."

I clenched my hands into fists, storming to the top of the table and sitting down in my throne, "Who?"

"My son, My Queen," Aegir bowed his head, "Thorin."

A pang of sympathy shot through me for the other men of the council. This meant that two of them had lost sons. "A weregild will be paid for the fallen sons." I turned my head, looking around, "Where is Thorin?"

"I am here, My Queen," the young man, blonde and lean, shuffled out of the shadows, bowing uncertainly. 

"What have—"

The doors to the grand hall opened, and Emil and Rúna burst inside, dressed in their royal garments, their faces flushed from running. They stopped to bow to me and the council men before hurrying to flank the side of my throne, their hands clasped in front of them.

I cleared my throat, turning back to Thorin, "What have you seen? Has Eforwic truly fallen?"

Thorin shuddered, bowing further so I could not see his face, "It was chaos, My Queen. Warriors came in the night, and they killed everyone they could."

My nails dug into my palm as my anger grew, "What of the Jarl Sigtryggr and the Lady Stiorra?"

Thorin sniffed, glancing up at me slightly before looking down again, "The Lady Stiorra could not be found by the attackers but... Jarl Sigtryggr was banished from Eforwic."

"Who dares to banish a Jarl of Northumbria?!" I snapped, and behind me, my children tensed, "Who dares to challenge Daneland?"

Thorin's heart beat rapidly in my ears as he shifted from one foot to another, a grown man who towered over me, withering before me like a child.

"My Queen," Saga drew my attention to her, rising from her seat at the head of the council table, her face serious, "Eforwic was attacked by Danes."

Rúna let out a quiet gasp, turning to her brother, "But how—"

"Danes?!" I demanded, pushing myself up out of my throne, "We have been at peace for years! What sort of foolish Danes would seek to break that, and not only that, but they broke peace with their kin!"

Saga bowed her head, letting out a slow breath, "Brida."

I had not heard that name in fifteen years. I had not thought of that woman in fifteen years. I had cursed her, and I had been done with her. Yet, why was she reappearing before me again?

"Brida," I spat the name, taking a step down from the steps of my throne, "how? She was said to be dead."

"It is believed," Durin spoke up, "that she fled to Iceland, and now, she has returned."

"Returned and attacked Eforwic," I hissed, my hand falling to the dagger I always carried at my side.

"Wessex and Mercia remain silent," Saga piped up again, "I sent your spies ahead to Bebbanburg, but Uhtred was there no longer when they arrived."

"Uhtred will have gone to find Stiorra," I decided, removing my hand from my blade, "he will ride for Eforwic."

"What are we to do, My Queen?" Aegir asked carefully, motioning for his son to return to the shadows.