Blind Redemption Read Online Free

by her sire’s unexpected, deep-bellied laughter, her gaze flitted around the high table. His guests appeared equally amused.
    “Have I offended you, sir?” Heat rose in her cheeks, what had she done?
    “By Odin’s eye,” her sire swore. “I’ve raised three sons.”
    Her brows knit. Taken aback by his words, she shakily poured herself a second measure of wine. Her father’s less than favorable opinion of her put her on the defensive. “I’ve done everything you’ve expected of me, milord.”
    He eyed her severely, his smile fading. “I was just boasting to these good men how beautiful my daughter is. Look at you. You’ve embarrassed me, child.”
    She lifted her chin. She wore armor and carried a sword because her father demanded it. He’d never admit it in front of his distinguished guests. “I don’t gallivant around wearing braies and weapons every day,” she defended herself.
    “Only because I forbid it,” he countered. “Seeing you now shows me what an injustice I’ve done you. I’ve poorly prepared you for your future. You lack the refinement and elegance most girls half your age possess.”
    “Haven’t I proven time and again I can play the role of the jarl ’s perfect daughter when it’s expected of me?”
    His criticism stung. Ever obedient, she learned to read and write and fight alongside her brothers. Could he fault her for preferring climbing trees over dancing? Reading over embroidery? She enjoyed drying herbs; didn’t that count as cooking?
    “Go upstairs and prepare to greet our guests properly,” her father instructed.
    She needed a bath. Surely the stable smelled better than she did. “Yes, father.” She stood, then bowed.
    Her father coughed. “Bowing as a man only proves my point.” The five men at the table laughed.
    Humiliated, she huffed out an apology, curtsied, and ran out of the room.
    A half hour after the battle, Aaron followed Marteinn through the front doors of Erik the Bald’s modestly sized keep. Although the great hall was smaller than most, the jarl ’s wealth showed in the finery he decorated it with. Tapestries and furs were abundant. On the east-facing wall, small niches were carved into the stone. Each hollow contained a miniature marble statue of the gods.
    A large hearth with a marble mantle graced the north wall. Two silver battle axes, crossed at the center, hung above the fireplace. Left of the hearth, covering the wall from ceiling to floor, was the largest bear skin he’d ever seen. He’d enjoy hearing the tale behind that prized pelt. To the right of the mantle, an ornate looking glass, edged with silver and amber, hung on wall. Three long trestle tables were arranged in the center of the room. A hundred men could dine comfortably there. Erik the Bald enjoyed luxury.
    Marteinn motioned him across the room. They passed the kitchen where women were busy placing fresh loaves of bread on racks. Aaron paused to take in the smell of roasting meat. Violence always made him hungry. His escort grinned as if he’d read his thoughts and stopped at a narrow doorway. Once Aaron caught up, Marteinn knocked.
    “Enter,” a deep voice sounded from inside.
    Marteinn opened the door, then stepped aside so Aaron could pass. Sitting at a table piled high with ledgers and weapons was a white-bearded giant he assumed was the jarl. True to his name, Erik the Bald had a head as hairless as a baby’s arse. He stood to greet them.
    Marteinn bowed. “Milord, this is Jarl Aaron McNally, a representative for King Olaf. He intervened—”
    Thejarl held up his hand. “Kara gave full account. Save your strength. We’ll speak later.”
    Aaron regarded Marteinn. Kar? Kara? Who is he? A faint smile crossed his lips. Perhaps this man’s youngest offspring was cursed with a feminine name.
    Erik broke his concentration. “Come, sit. I owe you endless gratitude, Jarl McNally. You saved my son.”
    Marteinn exited the room.
    Aaron couldn’t help noticing the size and