My husband and his men mount their horses and thunder ahead of us. I don’t expect to see him again until the celebrations begin. The scop begins a song, and Paulinus, with his small dark eyes and pronounced nose, turns to speak with me. I’ve had enough of his self-importance.
I raise my hand. “Stop there, my lord bishop. I am now Queen of Northumbria. You may address me as Your Majesty, or Your Grace, but never again as your lady.”
Paulinus inhales sharply. “You forget yourself. I’m the one who made you queen.”
“Spin your tales for someone else. King Edwin needs the alliance with Kent, and my brother, King Eadbald, needs help against the Saxons. You merely facilitate my brother’s intentions.”
The priest disdainfully looks down his nose at me.
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