Book two of Blind Love
After being saved from the Saxons and brought back to the man she loves, Ailbe has grown far less naive. Still a gentle soul with a heart of gold, Ailbe begins to find the balance between compassion and subservience. She becom...
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It was that night that Ardgal contacted the young Queen again. Reluctantly, she allowed Whitehair to follow her - or more so was forced to because he stubbornly followed Ivar's orders.
Though it was mildly infuriating, a part of her understood that he did only as he was told - and if he disobeyed Ivar then he'd probably lose his head.
Into the night, Ailbe wandered. Whitehair held a small lit torch to guide them and Ailbe walked only a few steps behind him.
"Queen Ailbe!" Ardgal's voice made her stop with a smile.
"Ardgal." She greeted. "It is good to see you."
"And you, my queen." He bowed his head politely, but quickly recalled that she couldn't see it and scratched his neck nervously. The huge man with an axe stood behind her didn't exactly help his nerves either. "I have good news regarding your brother, My Queen."
Ailbe's face lifted, her heart pulsing in her chest. "He's agreed? He's agreed to meet me?"
Ardgal smiled at her glee, but couldn't help but notice the man behind her who visibly stiffened as he listened to their conversation. "Better. He is coming to Kattegat."
"He's coming here?" She beamed joyously, practically jumping up and down with excitement. "Oh, thank you Ardgal!" She giggled, running over and hugging him tightly. "Thank you for everything you've done for me."
"My Queen," He answered in Gaelic this time so that Whitehair could not understand. "You may be a Viking Queen, but you will always be a Celtic princess."
Gently, he placed something in her hand and hugged her again before disappearing into the shadows of night. As Ailbe held the object in her hand, she felt the bumps and patterns that ran along the cold metal surface.
Her heart welled with warmth as her fingers ran along the many inscriptions and she recognized it for what it was.
It was her father's dagger. The one that many said had brought him his power as he slayed the evil chief before him. The one that she played with as a child, tossing and turning in her hands with happy giggles as her father told her tales from before her time.
A small tear slipped down her cheek as she clutched it against her chest, moonlight glistening down like magic. Her head lifted to the sky and she took a deep breath.
"I'll make it right, father." She vowed quietly. "I promise."
