The Queen's Rule

A Dark Norse Romance DarkLacePress She did not come as a guest. She came as a law. Queen Sandri Varna-St walks into Vilhjálmr the Impaler’s longhouse with snow in her ash-blond hair and a debt in her mouth: he took her brother’s ship. Mercy, he calls it. She has another word. I fuck who I want. You fuck who I say you can. That is the rule in his hall now. She sits in his high seat. She drinks his mead. She takes his brother on the bench while the fire watches, and she makes the Impaler keep his hands on the wood. When he dares to speak, she ties him where he ruled, cuts his breeches open to the chill, and teaches the whole household what a queen does with pride. Winter locks the fjord. There is nowhere to sail and no one to appeal to. Sandri will use who she points at. Vilhjálmr will wait for the word. Need is not surrender. A linked hand under the table is not peace. Some bargains are spoken. Some are only held. Adult dark romance. Explicit content.