THORVID WAS CONTENT... FOR THE MOMENT. Ivar had sent the notice demanding ransom from Aelfred. One of Ragnar's sons would eventually meet with an emissary from the king to discuss terms. Ivar still hadn't decided how much to ask in return for Princess Aethylthryth.

Aelfred was in a tricky position. Ælla of Northumbria had been an ally at one point, but he was a cruel tyrant who had come to his throne unlawfully. Even though he was a Saxon, Thorvid had to admit that he admired Aelfred. They were both the youngest sons, even though Thorvid couldn't claim legitimacy. Thorvid had seen Aelfred on the battlefield on that day at the Battle of Ashdown even before he'd inherited the crown of Wessex. Even Ragnar would have acknowledged the young prince's drive and intelligence in warfare. Then when the Danes had defeated the Saxons right there in Basengum, Aelfred had been relentless despite their losses.

But after the Danes put Ecgberht on the throne of Northumbria as a puppet king, the kingdom had become obsolete in the scheme of things. One by one, the tiny kingdoms of the Saxons had fallen to the Danes. All except Aelfred's southern lands.

So what use could Aethylthryth be to the Aelfred? Her father was dead. There was no chance of her gaining succession through an heir unless the Danes lost control of Northumbria. Perhaps they could play to Aelfred's Christian sensibilities and make threats against her honor if he didn't adhere to their demands. Her sister's fate was enough evidence of that possibility.

Thorvid climbed one of the guard towers built into the hastily constructed wall. It was only a temporary living place. Once they took London, making yet another leap towards Wessex and Aelfred's capital, they would be living in the old Roman and Saxon stone structures for the winter. That was Ivar and Halfdan's plan at least.

Leaning his forearms against the railing, he chatted with the guard before turning his attention on the yard below. A child ran across the space, a young slave chasing after him. The boy paid her no mind as he hunted down an unfortunate duck. The bird managed a narrow escape.

Halfdan and Princess Aedwen's son was growing strong. None of them had expected him to live. They hadn't even bothered to give him a name till Hilde insisted that Thorvid say something to his brother about it. With a begrudging shrug, Halfdan conceded that Hilde be allowed to name the bastard.

She called him Audun. Thorvid had a soft spot for the boy. His nephew. A bastard like him, though the bastard of a princess, not the bastard of a slave girl.

And now he shared him with his aunt, Princess Aethylthryth. Strange to think that they were connected now by that little creature wreaking havoc among the fowl in the yard.

The realization hit him even harder as he watched Aethylthryth cross the space towards Audun, led by Hilde. Of course, Hilde would be counted on to meddle in such affairs. She had been with them for so long, no one tried to argue with her, even though she was still a slave.

Introductions were made. Thorvid couldn't hear anything from his perch, but he watched Aethylthryth's face with interest. Her glassy expression cracked open as she knelt down to speak to the boy. The mouth softened and her eyes widened as she gave a faint smile. The boy leaned forward and allowed her to embrace him. As she did, he was startled to spy damp streaks of silent tears on her cheeks gleam in the afternoon light.

Princess Aethylthryth was a mystery. Mostly, she was distant and stony as the moon, like one of the marble statues they occasionally found in Christian monasteries. Her dark eyes were always moving though, observing and learning. She listened like she was planning something.

But then, her facade shattered with a simple quirk of her crooked mouth, catching him off guard. Or like now, when she wept out of the blue. Her tears were silent, not like her wailing and sniffing sister. They were heartfelt, but subtle. He wondered if she even knew that she was crying.

Aethylthryth rose from the ground, wiping her face as she watched Audun take after another bird with a gleeful squeal. They both had the same wavy brown hair. But Audun's eyes were grey green as Halfdan's. He embodied both Saxon and Dane royalty in his person. Thorvid sincerely hoped that his nephew would reach adulthood.

Thorvid glanced back at Aethylthryth. She was watching him. Her eyes were narrowed against the golden light of late day, mouth tight in thought. Neither looked away nor did they acknowledge the other.

Hilde called her away, back to the long house. Aethylthryth obeyed without a second glance. Thorvid climbed down from his perch to follow her as though he had no other choice.

***

Ella heard Thorvid's footsteps thud behind her in the corridor. Hilde had gone to take care of Audun in the muddy courtyard. She wished she wasn't alone. After hearing Aslaug's dark vision, she was hesitant to connect with anyone in the fort.

Every move she made could change the course of history. Her presence was a danger, wherever she went. That realization struck her as she had laid in bed that night after speaking with Aslaug. The queen was right not to want her there. Ella had fallen out of sync with the proper order of things and could only cause harm while she remained in that time.

But how could she return to her own year? She considered the river mist and the strange song. There was no doubt they were connected to the event. But why? Did it have to do with some ancient god like Aslaug had implied? She needed to know more. She needed more time to learn what she could while maintaining her guise as Aethylthryth. The show had to go on.

"Did you make your offer to Aelfred yet?" She turned to face him, folding her hands neatly in front of her and straightening her shoulders. "How much am I worth to Wessex?"

"Ivar sent the news south today."

Thorvid moved slowly towards her. His expression was indistinguishable in the dim light, but his voice was all business. That detail was both comforting and oddly distressing to her. Ella tried not to think too deeply into it.

"And? What was the number?"

"You are going to have to wait and see. It'll be a surprise after we meet with their emissary."

She nodded then moved closer to him. He stood his ground. "How much would you offer?"

"If I was Aelfred?"

His voice softened. Her breath caught in her throat. What the hell was she doing? Was she flirting? Even after the pep talk she had given herself the night before?

"Yes. How much would you give to ransom me back?" she persisted, despite herself.

She couldn't help it. She liked how he watched her. And how he'd held her on the back of that damn horse. Of course, she'd replayed that in her mind. He'd had a strong grip on her waist as they had raced away from Guthrum's men and she'd felt secure in his arms, despite their circumstances. And how he'd sworn honesty to her at their first meeting. That wasn't anything she'd ever heard from a boy in her own time.

"I don't have anything to give," he spoke quietly after a beat in the heavy silence. "That is why your ransom is important. Ivar has promised that I will receive a portion. I am only a penniless bastard living on the generosity of my brothers."

That was the cold truth of their relationship. Even if he felt an ounce of the attraction she sensed between them, it didn't matter. She was a means to an end for him. A lucky break. He was a pragmatist of the Dark Ages. She was a romantic of the 21st century. And nothing could ever be possible.

"Then I hope for your sake that King Aelfred finds me worthy," she clipped frigidly, retreating a step and pushing open the door to her quarters. "And I hope you receive word soon so you can cease to be penniless."

She closed the door behind her, but remained beside it. He waited a moment outside then took one step towards the door. Ella held her breath. Thorvid's boots scraped as he turned down the corridor and walked away.