Page 36 of Alliance Bride
She pushed up from the table without answering the question. Her stomach recoiled as he drew closer, invading her space. However, she stood her ground. “You should not be here.”
“Come now, a guest should be welcomed warmly.”
Eadlyn’s pulse quickened, but she wouldn’t show fear. “You should leave before Aevar returns.”
He stepped closer still and lifted a hand as if to brush her hair. That’s when Kian made his move, slipping out behind him. The point of his blade pressed into Sig’s neck.
Sig froze.
“I believe the lady asked you to leave,” Kian said, his voice low and dangerous.
Sig snorted, too calm for having a blade at his throat.
Kian leaned in. “You know, Aevar’s still liable to take your tongue, if not your head, when he finds out you came into the longhouse uninvited looking for his wife.”
Sig raised his hands as if innocent. “I meant no harm. Just wanted to see if the princess needed any company.”
“She’s got company enough. Now you best be going before I decide to save Aevar the trouble and gut you myself.”
Sig took two steps backward, casting one last lingering look at Eadlyn before retreating from the hall.
She exhaled. Her hands shook, but she steadied them on the table.
Kian turned to her, slipping the knife back into its sheath with a flourish. “Well,” he said brightly, “wasn’t that a lovely visit?”
Eadlyn laughed, relief bubbling out with it. “Thank you. For everything.”
“My pleasure.” Kian flashed a grin. “Saving princesses from idiots is my second-favorite pastime.”
She tilted her head. “And your first?”
He winked. “Winning attafl. Which I was about to do before we were so rudely interrupted.”
Chapter Thirteen
Theairbuzzedwithunrestrained excitement. Shouts and cheers, the heavy thump of wood against wood, and the sharp clash of weapons rose around Eadlyn in a chaotic chorus. The crisp spring breeze cut through the crowd, laden with water, sweat, and the raw bite of damp earth. She had watched Galen and his men train many times back home, but never had she seen anything to match the fervor and fierce determination that coursed through the warriors here. This was not mere practice but a celebration of strength and skill. A test of pride and honor.
The ferocity was almost frightening. Yet the current of enthusiasm pulled at her, and she was caught up in the thrill as she stood at the edge of a ring. Within it, Aevar, his brothers, Kian, and Heida stood in a tight line, shields locked, wooden swords ready to face off against a group from another clan in a mock battle. While their group comprised only five, across the field she spotted clusters of ten or more preparing to engage.
At the signal, the two sides charged forward and clashed with a roar. At first, it was just a chaos of bodies and swinging weapons,but soon, Eadlyn caught the subtle signals passed between Aevar and the others. A nod, a shift of stance, a shouted command she didn’t understand. They moved not as individuals but as a single living creature, outmaneuvering their opponents with swift, practiced efficiency. She didn’t know the rules or how they counted a “kill,” but when one of the opposing men limped out of the ring, clutching a bruised arm, she understood enough.
Though Heida was fascinating to watch since she was the first woman warrior Eadlyn had ever encountered, she found her gaze kept slipping back to Aevar. She knew little of warfare, but even she recognized the ease and skill with which he fought. He moved as if born to war, ducking low beneath a swing, pivoting on the balls of his feet, striking with swift, decisive blows.
Her breath caught once when he spun and slammed the edge of his shield into an opponent’s shoulder, sending the man sprawling. Though this was only sport, the clash had a dangerous edge to it that made her heart pound against her ribs.
When the dust settled, only Aevar, Erik, and Kian remained standing in the ring. However, the two sides came together again, laughing and clapping one another on the back. Despite Braan’s bloodied knuckles and another man’s bleeding nose, a sense of camaraderie, not bitterness, filled the air.
A thrill of pride welled in Eadlyn’s chest.Pride. For a man she had once feared marrying, and now she found herself drawn to celebrate his victory. Across the ring, he caught her gaze. She offered him a smile, hoping he would see how she felt. He didn’t grin like he did with his family, but he did return it, and something warm flared in his stern face.
Before she could savor it, someone slammed into her shoulder hard enough to jolt her sideways. Turning, she caught sight of thewoman with the shaved head moving through the crowd. Eadlyn might have brushed off the collision as an accident, but the woman glanced back with a look cold enough to freeze stone. When Eadlyn turned back to the ring, she found Aevar also watching the woman with a stormy expression.
Eadlyn shifted closer to Ranvi and Inga, seeking the comfort of familiar faces. Together, they observed several more skirmishes as the competitions carried on. Aevar fought four more times and won all but one when he was left to face three men alone. Even then, he had made them fight hard for their victory.
Later, they moved to another ring, where single combat took place. Here, warriors stood alone, challenging whomever they wished. They watched two matches between strangers before a swell of excitement passed through the crowd. Heida stepped into the center of the ring, sword and shield in hand, her stance relaxed but alert. From the sidelines, Jarl Gudrik, a grizzled warrior, and his sons bellowed their support.
Heida called out a name—Oda Jokulfsdottir—and a murmur drifted through the crowd. A moment later, the woman with the shaved head stalked into the ring, glaring at her. Apparently, Eadlyn wasn’t the only one Oda held a grudge against.
The two women faced each other. Heida murmured something too quiet for Eadlyn to hear. Oda’s lip curled in response, and she snarled something back before charging.
