Page 89 of Tears of the Wolf
Selene’s gaze was warm, motherly, and deceptively marked with smile lines. Her smile fell on her daughter and Brynn felt the predator closing in.
“Brynn! My dear girl.” Selene tripped as she stepped down, though it might have been an act. She laughed as she righted herself. “Oh, clumsy me.”
Brynn was unmoved, though she could see the people around them relaxed. No one should lower their guard around Selene.Brynn would prefer Hróarr and ninety-nine of his kin over this woman any day.
Selene came toward Brynn, adding a slight wobble to her step. Selene was nearing fifty, but Brynn had seen her feign infirmity too many times to trust it now. She sensed no errantkain the woman’s body.
“My sweet daughter, it has been too long.” Selene wrapped Brynn in an embrace. “I was so sorry to hear of what happened. Such a tragedy. Such a shame.”
Brynn didn’t move. She stared straight ahead, giving her mother nothing. One lesson she had learned from Paega, apathy was much harder to fight than outright rejection.
Selene pretended as if nothing was unusual. “I came as soon as I heard.” She lowered her voice. “Wassa told me Aelgar forced you to marry. Without your mother’s permission? Unacceptable.”
“I didn’t need your permission.” Brynn kept her voice devoid of emotion. She stepped away from her mother, folding her arms back across her chest. She raised her voice so that the onlookers could hear. “The king was kind enough to arrange a marriage at my request.”
Selene’s jaw ticked, the only sign she was displeased. “Yes, so kind of him.” That eternal smile never wavered. “Neirin, help the girls take our things inside.”
The guard headed to the back of the wagon where Tessaine and Anselma were unloading bags.
Brynn raised her voice to make sure everyone heard. “You can set your tents on the field below the longhouse.” If it was good enough for Hróarr and his Valdari, it would be good enough for Selene. Hopefully, being so close to Vana would be as uncomfortable for Selene as it had been for Brynn these past few nights.
“I am sure there’s room for us in the house,” Selene chuckled good-naturedly. “We don’t need that much space, my dear.”
Gaitha stepped down from the doorway. “Brynn, if you would like, we can—”
“The field.” Brynn spoke the words firmly, shooting Gaitha a significant look.
Gaitha frowned for just a second, making the freckles around her nose scrunch. Then she caught on. “Yes, the field is quite lovely. The girls can show you the way.”
Selene looked to the longhouse. “But such a grand house as this…”
“Is full,” Brynn snapped. If her mother wanted to keep pushing the matter, she was willing to simply say the woman wasn’t welcome. “It is a pity you did not give us warning of your coming. Perhaps then we could have prepared for you.”
Selene laughed good-naturedly, but Brynn knew her mother caught the meaning of her words—I know you tried to catch me off guard and this is your punishment. As Paega’s wife, Brynn had learned to manage an estate, care for crops, and mediate disputes. But she had learned the art of politics as Selene’s daughter.
All her life, her mother had taught her the subtle art of getting what you wanted by giving people what they wanted. Selene had learned early on that Brynn hungered for her mother’s praise and acceptance. Like a good politician, Selene had withheld both until Brynn had complied with whatever her mother demanded. Whether it had been studying her spells, attending her prayers, or marrying a man some forty years her senior.
But for the first time in Brynn’s life, she was the one with all the power. Because she had something that Selene wanted.
And Selene had nothing Brynn wanted.
Cenric
“So, you think this will make your wife fall in love with you?” Hróarr sounded on the verge of laughter.
Cenric had explained the situation to his cousin before they left, but Hróarr still seemed deeply amused by the whole thing. “It can’t hurt,” Cenric answered.
“I only mean that she’s Hyldish. Hyldish don’t believe in vengeance the way we do. They think a bit of coin is enough to end a feud.”
Cenric frowned. “You mean blodgild?”
Blodgild was the payment of silver or in some cases gold owed by a murderer to the family of the victim. It was the Hyldish way of preventing the manner of violent retribution that could spring up on Valdar.
Hróarr grunted. “Exactly. They aren’t like us.”
Us.Valdari.
While most people were unsettled by Cenric’s Valdari half, Hróarr never acknowledged his Hyldish half. To most of theworld, they seemed to be oil and water, unable to mix, but Cenric’s veins were proof it was possible. Cenric had never felt like a proper Valdari, but he never felt entirely Hyldish, either. He was both and neither.
