Page 30 of Alliance Bride
Heida stood nearby, always lingering at the edges but never far from Eadlyn. She caught Aevar’s glance and gave a barely perceptible nod. That small exchange steadied him. He appreciated that Heida had taken it upon herself to watch over Eadlyn during the Gathering. With Staegar prowling around—and worse, his good-for-nothing nephew and heir, Sig, slithering in his shadow—Aevar needed eyes on her at all times.
He drifted back to where Kian and a group of other youngwarriors were drinking just in time to catch the tail end of a raucous story about a skirmish against Kalgoran raiders. Heida’s brothers from the north were the loudest, their hands weaving wild shapes in the air. One of them mimicked a fleeing raider tripping over his own spear, and the group roared with laughter.
The lightheartedness made it easy to believe all was well. But the atmosphere soured the moment Sig appeared and swaggered into the group like he owned it. His reddened nose said he was well into his drink, and his voice already grated on the frayed edges of Aevar’s patience like a dull blade.
“Sounds harrowing,” Sig slurred, “but let me tell you about a real battle.”
The circle cooled like a doused fire. Aevar shared a glance with Kian. The group passed around their own silent exchanges, both of annoyance and disbelief as Sig launched into some outlandish tale. He rambled on, drunk and desperate for attention. When he realized none would be given freely, he switched tactics. Elbowing Aevar hard enough to spill ale down his hand, he barked out, “That’s quite a bride you snared.”
Aevar wiped his fingers on his tunic, forcing his face to remain neutral. He refused to be baited. Not when this was supposed to be a night of celebration.
Sig, clearly unsatisfied with the lack of response, swept his gaze over the hall until it landed on Eadlyn. “Who knew an Essian could look like that? A shame about the alliance. Might’ve been worth marching on Kenwich myself if I’d known the spoils.”
He jabbered on, his words turning filthier and fouler. Aevar locked his jaw as heat climbed the back of his neck, and he tried to focus on his ale instead of the tightness building in his chest. Afew warriors turned away, and others stared at their cups, unwilling to be drawn into the brewing storm.
Aevar didn’t really hear the rest until Sig asked, “How does she compare to Thora?”
For a moment, the red rage blinded him. By some miracle of the gods, he kept himself from smashing his drinking horn right into Sig’s face. The temptation to knock his teeth in remained a deafening roar as all eyes settled on him.
“Sig, if you don’t stop wagging that tongue of yours, I swear I’ll cut it out and gag you with it. Now get out of my hall and crawl back to your uncle before I lose my restraint.”
Sig straightened, faking injury, but his eyes glittered with nasty satisfaction. He licked spilled ale from his beard like a mutt. “Is that any way to treat a guest? What would your mother say?”
Aevar took one lethal step forward, settling his hand on the hilt of his knife. “She’ll be the one holding you down.”
From behind him, Kian’s voice snapped through the tension, cold as ice. “And she won’t be alone.”
Sig looked between them, weighing his odds. He drained the last of his ale in a single messy gulp, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and sized Aevar up one final time before turning toward the door. The hall’s energy didn’t resume until the night swallowed him. Aevar stayed rooted for a moment longer, breathing deep, forcing himself back under control.
Kian gave him a sidelong glance. “There’ll be blood between you two before the week is done.”
Aevar didn’t respond right away. He’d let his attention wander back to Eadlyn, who still sat with the other women. Still smiling peacefully, unaware of the wolves circling.
Kian was probably right.
Chapter Eleven
Eadlynblinkedagainstthesudden flare of the oil lamp as it hissed to life. She stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, still heavy with exhaustion from the day before. The ache of yesterday settled into her limbs like a slow bruise. After all the greetings and visiting, another hour or two of rest would have been welcome, but this was only the first day of the Gathering. Ranvi had said it would go on for six more.
She slid out of the bed to gather her clothing, and Aevar kept his attention averted. He always left shortly after waking her, allowing her to change in private. They never said much, but after all the mornings like this, she was getting used to the routine and to sharing the room with him. The awkwardness lingered but was softer now, wrapped with a strange sense of comfort. With so many new men in the village, especially Staegar, she found it reassuring to know Aevar was there at night.
He turned to go, one hand on the door, but hesitated. “How are you handling all of this?”
She thought for a moment before answering. This wasn’t so different from the celebrations back at Kenwich, though the rowdiness here was on another level. “I’m all right. Not knowing the language makes it difficult sometimes, but I’m managing. I’ve enjoyed getting to know some of the women. They’ve treated me kindly.”
A small, fleeting smile tugged at his mouth, so brief she might have missed it if she hadn’t been looking. “Good.”
“So what happens today?”
“Everyone will have the morning to rest after their travels. This afternoon, my father will call the jarls to council. They’ll speak about the clans, the alliance, and whatever disputes need settling. After that—” a note of anticipation colored his tone “—we feast.”
Feasting meant drinking. Likely more than last night. A knot of unease wound tight beneath Eadlyn’s ribs, but she pushed it aside.
The morning slipped by faster than Eadlyn expected as she met more of the visiting women. Few spoke her language, and once again she leaned on Ranvi or Inga to bridge the gap. Some women were warmer, others more distant, but none hostile. Not like the crackling tension in the air whenever Staegar passed within sight.
By late afternoon, movement stirred at the far end of the hall. The scrape of chairs dragged across packed earth pulled Eadlyn’s attention toward the dais, where Aevar and his brothers worked. They placed one chair atop the dais, draping it in a thick bearskin.Runar’s seat of authority. The others they arranged in a semicircle below, leaving a path open to the center.
This must be the council.
