Page 23 of Hungry Like a Wolf (Vikings Rock #3)

He studied the target, littered with holes now, and hoisted his spear high, then he seemed to bounce on the spot twice before breaking into a run. After five paces, he hurtled the spear into the air.

It flew fast and straight before arcing down and hitting the white section of the target.

“Ah, so close,” Ravn said shaking his head. “You’d have taken off the enemy’s arm but not his head.”

Thormod clapped, he was the only one; he must have been impressed with the show.

“Next,” Ravn called.

Another man stepped up holding a long spear with a collection of feathers tied to the end.

He wiped his hand over his hairless head—his scalp covered in ink—and took up the same position as the previous contestant.

He blew out a breath and gritted his teeth, then with spear aloft, he took a run at his throw and launched the spear into the air.

Again, it flew in a graceful arc, the silver tip glinting in the sunshine.

Carmel felt her hair lift a little in the breeze and as it did so, the spear changed its trajectory very slightly. It hit with a solid thud , again on the white.

“Ah, bad luck, we have no winner for the spear,” Ravn said.

“Hey, what about my turn?” Carmel set Thormod down on the sand.

“The line has been set a long way from the target, farther than I’d expected.” Ravn turned to her.

“So? Let me try. I can throw a spear.”

“But…” He appeared unsure now.

“I can throw a spear,” she repeated. “And Queen Kenna’s brother, Hamish, knows it.”

Ravn stared at her for a moment and then turned to the crowd. “Get the queen a spear.”

There were a few bemused looks and two dogs scampered over the sand chasing each other, but then a spear, slightly smaller than a man’s, was offered forward by Bodil.

“Thank you.” Carmel took it and nodded at her.

“I wish you the luck of the gods, Your Grace.” She studied Carmel’s eyes, as though fascinated by their green color, and then stepped away.

Carmel blew out a breath as the familiar weight of a spear settled in her hand.

She passed it from one to the other, checking its straightness and examining the sharpness of the tip.

It was not unlike the one she’d taken to battle in Tillicoulty and had never seen again.

’Haps this was the moment she reclaimed the part of her that had been on the losing side.

“Father,” she muttered, “Guide me, I implore you.” And she meant both fathers, God and King Athol.

“What is she doing?” Thormod asked Ravn.

“Your new mother is going to compete.” Ravn picked his son up again. “Be quiet and watch.”

Carmel concentrated on the target, letting the blood-red of the center imprint itself in her mind’s eye. It was all she focused on. The villagers, the fjord, the jostling dogs all slipped away.

Then she took a few steps back, bouncing the spear before lifting it aloft.

She blew out a breath, hoisted her gown with her free hand so that it was almost at her knees, and took four fast paces.

She hurtled the spear into the vastness of the blue sky.

It was slightly off on target, upwind, but on its downward trajectory, as it headed for the target, the breeze gave her what she’d bargained on.

A slight huff, a trickle of air that just touched the sensitive spearhead and angled it straight toward the red center of the target.

It hit with a definite thud .

The crowd went wild. Punching the air, clapping, cheering. She’d done it. Now they’d seen the type of woman their new queen was.

“You are not just a pretty face,” Ravn said, cupping her cheek and staring into her eyes.

“Did you ever think that’s all I was?” She smiled up at him.

“No.” He shook his head. “I always knew you were kind and strong, beautiful and loyal, but now I also know you are a skilled huntress. That pleases me.”

“Ah, but what else don’t you know about me?”

“That is what I intend to spend a lifetime finding out.” He kissed her, a hard, deep, excited kiss that made her head spin.

When he pulled back, he raised her arm and turned her to the crowd. He shouted in his own language then repeated in hers. “Good people of Drangar, now you see what a talented queen we have.”

The crowd cheered louder. Bodil was beaming and looking at Carmel afresh, respect in her eyes this time.

“How lucky we are that the gods saw fit to deliver me a woman who is a fine wife, lover, mother, and protector of our lands,” Ravn called out. “Fate has been kind. We will give our thanks to Thor, Odin, and the goddess Freya for our good fortune.”

Carmel felt like her heart would beat right out of her chest. Never in her life had she felt such warmth and adoration. With Ravn at her side, surely, she could achieve anything.

And with these people, the people of Drangar, she felt she really could be all the things Ravn had just said she was. Wife. Lover. Mother. Protector. Huntress.

Ravn spoke of his and his people’s luck that she was there, but the truth was Carmel felt like God had truly shone his light upon her and blessed her with everything she’d ever wanted.

She’d been seen and heard and her hope for the future was to deliver fine sons, but also daughters, because Drangar was a place for a girl to grow up knowing that there was no ceiling to her abilities.

She could hitch her longboat to the stars if that was what she chose to do.

“I love you,” Ravn said, kissing her cheek.

“And I love you, King Ravn of Drangar. I love you so much, and I always will.”

His breath hitched and he held her tighter. “You do? You will?”

“Aye.” She smiled. “And when you take me home in three years, I hope you’ll stay a while, visit my family with me.”

“And then… Then what? At the end of the visit.”

“I do believe we will return to Drangar and our people.” How had it happened so fast? She didn’t know, didn’t understand it. But this was her home now and she’d be content with visiting her family…on the understanding they accepted her choice of husband.

Would they?

Could they?

But that was a worry for another day. Right now, this day, everything was pretty much perfect.