Page 49 of Alliance Bride
“Did he harm her?”
“No. But he would have if I hadn’t gotten there in time.”
Fathir’s eyes went hard. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He slunk off.”
“Then we’ll find him.”
They moved together, a wall of fury cutting a path through the village as Fathir questioned every person they passed. Finally, someone pointed them toward Oda’s house. Aevar ground his teeth together. Of course. Theníðingrhad been hiding with her this entire time, nursing his injuries from the Gathering. With the way Aevar’s blood pulsed with heat, he was ready to challenge them both.
As they neared the small house Thora and Oda had inherited from their father, they spotted Sig standing outside with Oda. She didn’t react when they arrived, but Sig straightened, lifting his chin in bold defiance.
Fathir motioned to Ingvald and Njal. “Seize him.”
Sig reached for his weapons but was too slow. The men were on him in a moment, wrenching his arms behind his back and dragging him to face Fathir.
“You assaulted the princess of Essix,mydaughter-in-law, in my village?”
Sig snorted. “I did nothing. I was only offering what her husband clearly isn’t.” He sent Aevar a sneering grin. “Before he showed up, thehórkonaclearly enjoyed it.”
Aevar lunged. His fist collided with Sig’s face, snapping his head back with a satisfying crack. He reared back to hit him again, but someone grabbed his shoulder. Erik. Though he’d stoppedhim, his brother’s expression said he’d rather take a swing himself. Aevar stepped back, breathing hard in the struggle to keep his anger in check.
Sig spat blood, laughing breathlessly. “My uncle will love hearing about this.”
Fathir stepped in, seizing Sig’s tunic and pulling him in close. “You think you’re safe because your uncle’s a jarl? I amking. You crossed a line.”
Sig didn’t blink, his expression holding steady and defiant.
Fathir turned to Aevar and drew him a few steps away. His voice dropped. “If you wish to challenge him, I will back you and deal with Staegar. Eadlyn is your wife. I will let you decide.”
Aevar’s pulse thundered in his ears. The fire in his lungs demanded vengeance. Demanded blood. But through the fury, reason broke in like an icy wind. One wrong move and Staegar would turn it into a justification for war. Aevar wasn’t willing to put Eadlyn, or his people, at the center of that.
He dropped his head, each breath hard and bitter in his throat. “I won’t start a war, but I want him gone. Banished from Fjellheim.”
They may not be able to keep the banishment in place forever if Sig became a jarl one day, but hopefully, that would be many, many years in the future. With any luck, and if the gods had any sense of justice, he would meet a well-deserved end before that even happened.
Fathir nodded, something proud and grim in his expression. He gave Aevar’s shoulder a brief squeeze before turning back to Sig. “You’re lucky my son’s a better man than you. You’d be meeting the gods otherwise. You are banished from Fjellheim. You’re neverto set foot on my land again. Unless you’d like to swim home, I suggest you find a boat.”
Sig’s face twisted, but he said nothing.
“Understood?”Fathirsnapped.
“Understood,” Sig muttered.
Ingvald and Njal released him. He shrugged his shoulders and straightened his tunic, pausing at Braan’s chill voice.
“You better be gone by nightfall, or I’ll come drag you to the fjord myself.”
“We all will,” Erik added, tone deadly calm.
Fathir turned to the huskarls. “Ingvald, watch him. I want confirmation when he’s gone.”
He dismissed the rest, and they returned to the longhouse. Heida stood at the door, waiting. She scanned their faces as if checking for signs of blood.
“Is he dead?”
Aevar couldn’t answer. The fire still lingered in his chest, burning a hole straight through.
