Chained by Hades, the Underworld King novel · Chapter 2 of 24
Chapter 2: The Bride Price
Her father signs her away at her mother's bedside, Leif admits he asked for the steward's chain, and Ingrith burns his ring and chooses to go while the sap still holds.
"I am not anyone's bride," Ingrith said.
Sigrun stepped aside and let her father through the door.
Lord Aldric Halvane looked like a man who had not slept in a week.
His beard hung untidy and his furred coat was buttoned wrong.
"Ingrith," he said. "Sit."
"I will stand."
"Lord Hrodmar holds the Rite every tenth winter."
"I know what the Rite is."
"A daughter of our house goes to the lake."
"Then send Sigrun's niece. Send a servant. Send anyone who is not me."
"The treaty names a Halvane by blood."
"I am the only Halvane by blood in this house who is not in that bed."
Her mother stirred under the blankets and tried to lift her head.
Ingrith crossed the room and held her down.
"Don't," her mother whispered. "Don't go."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Sigrun laughed softly from the doorway.
"The riders say Lord Hrodmar will lift the frost from your mother once the bride is delivered," she said.
"Refuse, and he will let it finish."
Ingrith turned on her.
"You told him I was the one."
"Someone had to be."
"You told him where to find me."
Sigrun did not even bother to deny it.
"Your father has agreed," she said. "The paper is signed."
Ingrith looked at her father.
He was looking at the floor.
"Say it," she said. "Look at me and say it."
He lifted his eyes.
They were wet.
"I cannot lose your mother," Aldric said.
"So you will lose me."
"It is only the Rite. Lord Hrodmar says the bride is honored."
"Honored," Ingrith repeated. "At the bottom of a frozen lake."
He said nothing.
Leif stepped out from behind Sigrun then.
He wore his best steward's coat, and he had washed his hair.
"Ingrith," he said gently. "Let me explain."
"You knew."
"I knew last week."
"Last week. While you were eating at my table."
"Lord Hrodmar offered the steward's chain," Leif said. "Lord Steward of Skarnholt, and a seat at his table. I asked for it."
The room went very quiet.
"You asked for it," she said.
"For us. For our future. You would have been a Halvane widow living on charity once your mother passed. I fixed that."
"You sold me."
"I made a bargain."
"You sold me for a chain."
He had the grace to flush, but only a little.
He held out his hand.
On his palm lay the betrothal ring she had worn for two years.
"You'll want to give this back," he said. "It's customary."
Ingrith looked at the ring.
She looked at the hearth, where a fire burned low and red.
She took the ring from his palm and threw it into the coals.
Leif flinched.
"There," she said. "Now it's customary."
Her voice was shaking and she did not care.
"Hear me, all of you. I will go to the lake."
Sigrun's smile widened.
"But I will walk in on my own feet," Ingrith said. "Nobody drags me."
"And when I stand there, I will say what each of you did, in front of every lord in the north."
"Be quiet, girl," Aldric muttered.
"No."
She went to her mother's bed and knelt.
Her mother's hand was warm now, and the white had shrunk back to the knuckles.
The sap was working.
Ingrith pulled the little glass vial from her belt.
There were four drops left in the bottom, silver and steaming.
She pressed it into her mother's palm.
"One drop every morning," she whispered. "Hide it from Sigrun. Tell no one."
"Ingrith, no."
"It will hold for four days. I will find more."
"Where?"
Ingrith thought of the split birch and the pale eyes and the smile.
*Keep this. It opens the door.*
The coin was in her pocket, cold against her thigh.
"I don't know yet," she said.
She kissed her mother's forehead and stood.
The riders took her out at first light.
They did not tie her.
She climbed into the sleigh herself and sat very straight.
Behind her, Skarnholt shrank into the white until she could not see Leif standing in the gate.
They reached the Winterhall at dusk.
It was a black fortress built on the shore of a frozen lake, with torches burning blue along its walls.
The gate opened without a sound.
A man stood waiting in the courtyard.
He was huge, with a white beard cut square and hands scarred pale as bone.
A ring of knuckle-bone shone on his finger.
Lord Hrodmar Ulvsson walked down the steps slowly and took her chin in his cold fingers.
He turned her face one way, then the other.
"Small," he said. "But she has a spine."
"Take your hand off me," Ingrith said.
He smiled.
"The lake drinks you at noon."
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