Page 77 of Tears of the Wolf
The true professionals like Hróarr lived their lives the other way around. They had bases along the coast of Valdar, but their true home was the sea. These men lived their lives as warriors and mercenaries first, farmers and fishermen only when necessary. It carried with it extreme risk, but also great reward.
“Speaking of raids, do you claim that fishing town to the north of here?”
Cenric stopped, fixing his cousin in a hard look. “I do.”
“Ah.” Hróarr smacked his lips, still looking toward the longhouse. “Well, there’s a raiding party headed that way. Only one or two ships, but you might want to do something about it.”
Brynn
Brynn had been hospitable to her husband’s enemies. She supposed she should be the same to his friends.
Even if his cousin seemed a bit of a boor and the beautiful woman on his arm smiled at Cenric with a little too much familiarity. Even if she doubted Hróarr would be the kind of man to share, everyone had a past. What was to say that this lithe beauty had always been with Hróarr?
In her first marriage, Brynn had always failed to measure up to Paega’s previous lover, even if Mildreth was dead. Whether Mildreth really had been so perfect or whether because it was easiest to idealize the dead, Paega had never gotten over her. He sulked among the cairns and went hunting with his thanes and waited for his life to be over.
Despite her resentment, Brynn had laid flower wreaths of evergreen and offerings of butter and barley meal on the graves of Paega’s first wife and children every single new moon. So now,she served Hróarr and his companion with her own hands as befitted honored guests.
As always, Brynn did what was expected of her.
Cenric invited her to sit with them, but she declined, saying there was work to be done overseeing the household girls. Brynn thought Cenric looked displeased, but she doubted she would be able to keep herself together in front of Hróarr and Vana.
She was struggling as it was, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was that Hróarr was so obviously Valdari. Maybe it was how he had looked down on her with obvious disdain. He didn’t like sorceresses, and it showed. Maybe it was that Vana seemed more at ease with Cenric than Brynn was.
Or maybe it was that Brynn’s first reaction to hearing of a Valdari ship approaching had been fear for Cenric. She’d known he was working near the river today and she’d rushed to the riverbank to find him.
She’d been ready to use the full strength of her power to protect him from the Valdari, only to find him laughing and speaking like a native with their leader. Rationally, Brynn could acknowledge that was a good thing, but she couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of embarrassment.
Here she had raced across the entire village to rescue him, only to find he had never been in danger. The fear, the desperation, and the blind terror of those few moments had all been for nothing.
In that moment she had realized she cared for Cenric. It wasn’t that she was afraid of losing her place in Ombra. It wasn’t fear of losing her excuse to stay away from Ungamot and Glasney. It was fear of losinghim.
Perhaps some of it had been the age difference, but she had always seen Paega as the final judge of her actions. If Paega was displeased with something she did, he must have his reasons. Hewas so much older and wiser that surely, he must have known better.
Then as the years had worn on, she had realized Paega would never be pleased with her for the simple fact that she was not his first wife. He was a man shattered by grief who had no interest in piecing himself back together. Nor did he care if his jagged edges left a thousand tiny cuts in the heart of the young sorceress who was as trapped with him as he was with her.
With Cenric, Brynn still had some of that same desire to please him, to do her duty, but it was more than that. She admired him. Cared for him. It felt too early in their relationship for her to care this much for him.
Cenric might be precious to her, but she was still a newcomer in his life. He had people close to him, people who had known him for years, who had fought alongside and loved him. He was becoming the center of her world, and she feared that she was still in the periphery of his.
Brynn refilled the mead cups for Cenric, Hróarr, and Vana, leaning over the table.
Snapper and Ash greeted the Valdari like old friends, lounging at their feet and begging for morsels. Even Guin tottered around the older dogs’ legs and accepted pets from Vana. She didn’t even growl. Brynn felt betrayed.
Cenric glanced up at her. “Thank you, wife.”
Brynn tried to smile, but only succeeded in a grimace.
“Sit with us,” Cenric urged, gesturing to a seat at his side.
“I still have much work to do,” Brynn demurred, repeating her earlier excuse.
“I trust it’s not poisoned?” Hróarr chuckled, lifting the overflowing cup to his lips. The ends of his thick mustache dipped into the foam as he drank.
Brynn’s jaw tightened. “Do you prefer your meadwithpoison?”
Hróarr grinned up at Brynn, but it was a calculating grin, more a flashing of teeth.
Anger flared in Brynn’s chest, hot and viscous. This foreigner, this sellsword, was more at home here than she was. He moved about the house with easy familiarity, like he belonged here. This was her house by rights, but this animal acted as if he was in his own territory.
