Page 26 of Alliance Bride
“She wears it well,” Aevar said after a pause, keeping his voice low.
“She’ll need more clothes. Her gowns aren’t suited to the cold.”
Her voice held a question, unspoken but palpable. Aevar didn’t answer, and after a moment, she said, “Inga and I will make her some.”
She turned to go, but Aevar stopped her. Eadlyn was his wife and his responsibility. Whether by alliance or not, as her husband, it was his job to provide for her needs.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said at last, the words rougher than he meant for them to be.
Ranvi studied him, something unreadable in her eyes, before she moved toward the hearth.
As soon as she was gone, Kian reappeared at Aevar’s side and elbowed him, grinning like a boy who had caught him in a secret. “I hope you’ve noticed how beautiful your wife is.”
He had.
That was the problem.
He turned away. “Come with me. I need your help.”
They crossed the hall to a ladder that led to the upper balcony. Aevar climbed first, the wood slick under his wet boots. At the far end, pushed deep into a dark corner, sat the chest. He hadn’t touched it in three years. Hadn’t even looked at it. But he always knew it was there.
He cleared his throat. “Help me get it down.”
Kian didn’t ask questions. His usual easygoing manner faded into something more careful as he helped Aevar heave the heavy trunk toward the ladder. The wood groaned under the shifting weight. They wrestled it down carefully and carried it into the room Aevar shared with Eadlyn.
Once they set it down, Kian straightened. He studied Aevar for a moment, a flicker of understanding passing between them.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he said.
The door closed behind him.
Aevar stood there, staring at the chest. Lamplight caught on the worn iron hinges. Shallow scratches marked the grain of the wood, like fingerprints from a different life. He curled his fists at his sides.
Finally, he knelt and lifted the lid. The must of old wool mingled with lavender hit and wrapped around him like the hands of a ghost. He closed his eyes against it, but it was too late. The memories rushed in. A musical laugh, a flash of golden hair caught in the wind, a gentle hand brushing his cheek.
Bright colors met his eyes when he opened them. Dresses, shawls, woven belts she had loved. All of it folded and preserved with deliberate care. For a moment, he didn’t move. The weight of it pressed on him, stealing the breath from his lungs.
He reached out and let his fingers brush the fabric. Soft. Familiar. He found himself tracing the pattern of woven trim on the edge of a dress, the thread worn slightly loose in places. His throat tightened. He had thought—hoped—time would make this easier.
It hadn’t.
Gritting his teeth, he closed the lid again, pressing it shut. He sat back on his heels and scrubbed a hand across his face, forcing the tide of memory down, shoving it deep into the same locked place where he kept everything else he didn’t dare touch. This wasn’t about the past anymore. This was about what came next, and whether he was ready or not, Eadlyn was there.
The rain continued into the afternoon, a persistent drumming that blended with the low murmur of voices inside. While the slave women tended to other household chores, Eadlyn worked alongside Inga and Ranvi at the table, preparing ingredients and organizing bunches of herbs for the evening meal and for the upcoming feasts during the Gathering.
She found it impressive that they planned such feasts, given winter stores must be running low. But Inga explained that feeding their guests during such a lean time was a matter of honor and pride. It proved that, as king, Runar could provide generously for his people.
Slicing vegetables, Eadlyn was surprised by how much she enjoyed this simple act of preparing food and learning the names of things in Nordric as she went.
“Gulrót,” Ranvi said, handing Eadlyn a thick, purple-skinned carrot.
Eadlyn repeated it, the unfamiliar word thick and clumsy in her mouth.
A draft of frigid air swept through the room as the door creaked open. Heida stepped inside, carrying a string of fresh fish. The sight of her brought a change of atmosphere, the sharp scent of fish replacing the smokiness in the air.
“You’re just in time,” Ranvi said, smiling at her entrance. “We’re educating the princess in Nordric.”
Heida glanced at her as she set the fish down on the table and drew a blade from her belt. With the practiced ease of someone who had gutted countless fish, she made a clean cut behind the gills and sliced down the belly. The guts spilled out onto the table with a squelching sound. Though the smell was far from pleasant, Eadlyn didn’t turn away. She found something fascinating in the way Heida moved—efficient and unfazed. Nothing like the noblewomen of Essix.
