Your husband, Olaf the Stout, had been burned alive on Prince Oleg’s orders. Now you stood quietly, standing before the leaders of the Rus armies. Prince Oleg, his nephew Prince Igor and Ivar the Boneless.

“Perhaps we give her to our men as a reward. They’ve been quite restless lately.” Oleg says with a grin, young Igor’s eyebrows furrow and he looks back at you. Ivar watches you, rubbing his chin in thought. The handsome viking’s eyes scouring your form in thought, his gaze hungry.