Page 7 of To Tame a Viking Warlord

Samira lowered the dagger, jaw set. "Show me again."

"We have trained enough for today." Zohra glanced toward the brightening sky. "Your tutor arrives soon for your language lessons."

Samira groaned. "More tutors. More lessons. My mind is so full it might explode." She sheathed the blade.

"Your father is one of the wealthiest merchants in Fez," Zohra said. "It is natural that his only child is well versed in lessons fit for trade."

"Please, just one more sequence."

Zohra sighed. "All right, one more. Quickly."

They moved together in the practiced dance of attack and defense, their blades catching the strengthening light until Samira had mastered the move.

When they finished, Samira returned to her bed chamber.

Tiziri, her khadima and maidservant, was already waiting with a scented jasmine bath drawn. Afterward she helped her into a Damascus silk gown. It was blue and embroidered with silver thread.

As Samira dressed, she inadvertently rubbed the birthmark on the inside of her left wrist. She had done this her whole life out of habit. It was a small dark-amber mark, no larger than a thumbprint, in the shape of a teardrop, and would often burn if Samira sensed danger. Her late mother had carried a similar mark. She called it her Suhayl. A beacon, a guiding star for safe passage.

Once dressed, Samira thanked Tiziri and went down to break her fast.

The morning meal was already laid out in the courtyard, in the shade of the far arcade where the fountain kept the air cool. There was a dish of eggs baked with tomato and cumin, still bubbling in its clay pan, alongside grilled merguez fragrant with paprika and fennel. Warm flatbread and semolina msemen to tear and dip, a pot of honey, olives and soft white cheese, a bowl of dates and dried figs, and steaming mint tea. Famished from the morning's training, Samira ate her fill, a book open against her knee, the way she always did when her father was not there to remind her that the table was no place for reading.

The book she read was of the travels of Ahmad ibn Fadlan, whose journey had taken him as far as the land of the Rus, where he encountered the people called Varangians. Vikings. His descriptions had fascinated her since she first read them as a girl. The ships. The customs. So utterly different from any world she knew. She dipped bread in honey and turned the page without looking, tracing a passage she knew almost by heart.

When the last of the tea had gone cold she carried the book with her to the library.

It was her favorite room. Floor to ceiling with her father's books and her own. Her mother had read here too, in the years before she died, sitting in the chair by the window with her feet tucked beneath her and her hair unbound.

Samira sat in that chair now, and opened the book again to the page she had left.

The library door opened and her father entered.

Dawud ibn Yusuf al-Idrissi moved quietly for a man of his age. He was a deep thinker, slow to speak but fast to gauge a person's intentions. When he saw her, he smiled and greeted her with warmth and affection then sat across from her.

"Zohra tells me your skills are far superior than anyone she has ever trained."

"Zohra is too generous."

"Still, she believes there is not much more she can teach that you haven't already mastered."

"Sparring with her daily still helps me hone the skills I have."

He nodded then, changing the subject, said, "I met with a delegation of Sijilmasa traders yesterday. They bring word of the Almoravids." He paused. "I would have you stay close to the house today."

"I had planned to go to the market after my lessons."

"Not today." Something in his voice was different. Tighter. "Stay close, habibti. For my peace of mind."

She looked at him carefully. "What worries you?"

"Nothing worries me."

"Then why must I remain close?" She kept her voice even. "What does the word from the south say?"

A silence. Dawud looked at his hands.

"The Almoravids move faster than I had hoped. Three more settlements taken." He lifted his gaze. "The world is changing."