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... oming frost. Snow flecked the cliffs that ringed the harbor, and the sea beyond churned as though resentful of the ships that crossed its belly.

From the prow of their longship, the envoys of King Cnut tightened their cloaks against the salt spray.

The banners of their realm, cross-marked and pale gold, snapped weakly in the wind.

Their ship bore no weapons, only trade goods and the royal seal. Still, they were met with spears.

Armed men stood waiting at the docks ...

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He smirked, nodding in satisfaction before he pressed his nail on the tip of my forefinger that was quick to produce a drop of blood. “Such sweet aroma.” He whispered, placing my bleeding finger in his mouth and licked it with passion.

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