Page 75 of Alliance Bride
“I have something for you.”
She took it, unwrapping the layers with care. Her breath caught. Two strands of the blue and black beads she’d admired on the Essian merchant’s table rested in her palm. At the center of one strand hung a delicate silver cross adorned with graceful knotwork.
“How—?”
His smile grew. “Ranvi mentioned the beads. And your mother’s necklace.”
Of course she did, and Aevar had made this happen.
He took the strands from her and fastened them to her brooches. The beads nestled against her apron dress. Eadlyn stared down at the gift and brushed her fingers over the smooth glass and the shining cross. Though not her mother’s necklace, it was as if a piece of her had been returned. Something to honor the life she had lived despite its tragedy and hardship.
An unexpected wave of emotion welled up, and a tear slipped free. “Thank you,” she whispered.
She reached to wipe it away, but Aevar beat her to it. His thumb brushed over her cheek, sweeping away the moisture. It lingered, trailing down over the scar on her lips, and his eyes seemed to memorize every little detail of her face. Then his hand slid into her hair, his fingers resting at the nape of her neck. Andwhen he bent his head, stopping just shy of her lips, she saw it in his face. He wouldn’t take what wasn’t freely given.
She leaned in, closing the breath of space between them.
His mouth met hers in a kiss that was tender and reverent. No urgency, no rush. Just the soft press of lips, the warmth of his breath, and the stillness of a moment that had been building since the first time they met on that open plain in Essix. His arm wrapped around her back, drawing her in, and she pressed her palms to his chest, the rapid beat of his heart echoing her own.
When they parted, his hands remained at her waist, his gaze soft and dazzled. The world seemed to sway, and it took a long moment before her thoughts settled into place again.
“Was this your plan when you chose not to attend the sacrifices?” she teased, breathless.
“Not really a plan. More of a hope.”
Eadlyn studied his face the way he had hers, taking in the blue of his eyes that was the first thing she had noticed about him. Emboldened, she reached up and skimmed her fingers along the cropped side of his head, marveling again at how much the style appealed to her.
His eyes closed at her touch. Then he turned his head and kissed her arm where her sleeve had slipped. Her skin sparked. Catching her hand in his, he brought it to his chest, holding it over his heart. He kissed her again, this time deeper, and she melted into it, the world narrowing once more to just them.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there in each other’s embrace. Time blurred until the faint sound of voices tugged at the edges of her awareness, and they parted reluctantly. It must be the thralls returning from the sacrifice to finish preparations before the villagers arrived.
Aevar sighed, though one of contentment. “I suppose we should head back.”
Fingers still entwined, they turned from the fjord and walked toward home.
The village came alive with Midsummer cheer. Like during the Gathering, contests sprung up on the edges—footraces, spear throwing, archery, and several informal challenges that seemed to invent new rules as they went. Children ran wild, faces sticky with honey cakes, and laughter rolled across the fields. At the edge of the commotion, thralls bustled, hard at work to prepare food and refreshments. Smoke and sizzling meat curled through the air, blending with the sweetness of mead and fresh bread that made Eadlyn’s mouth water.
She walked alongside Aevar as they moved between events, brushing shoulders. Sometimes his hand linked with hers; at other times it rested against her back. After watching Kian and Braan battle to see who could throw a large stone the farthest, they wandered to the grappling ring, where a crowd was forming. Eadlyn edged toward the front with Ranvi, weaving her way through the onlookers as Aevar prepared to step in. The press of people around her was nothing compared to the thrum in her chest.
Since their kiss this morning, everything was heightened between them, including her anticipation to see him compete again. She spotted the same awareness in his eyes as he approached her and tugged off his tunic.
“Hold this for me?” He handed it to her with a knowing smile.
The breath she’d just taken forgot how to leave her lungs. “Of course.”
She draped the fabric over her arm. He didn’t move right away. His gaze lingered on her mouth, and she was suddenly hyperaware of the surrounding crowd. She wanted to kiss him. Badly. Especially remembering how she wished he’d taken a kiss for good luck beforeknattleikr. But her courage faltered at the last moment, and he didn’t press. Before she could change her mind, he turned and walked into the ring. She bit her lip, frustration bubbling. She should have kissed him.
Across the ring, Ingvald stepped in as his opponent. The two of them clasped forearms before falling back into defensive stances. A low horn sounded. Eadlyn flinched as they collided. They grappled hard and fast, the match more brutal than she expected. Their bodies slammed together, each straining to overpower the other. Aevar hooked his arm under Ingvald’s, trying to pivot and drive him off balance. Ingvald braced, almost lifting him off the ground.
Eadlyn clenched Aevar’s tunic.
He twisted free before Ingvald could slam him down, muscles flexing as he wrestled for another hold. Their boots dug grooves in the ground as they grappled, spun, and crashed to their knees only to rise again in the same breath. Someone behind Eadlyn shouted encouragement. She couldn’t hear the words, only the heartbeat in her ears.
Ingvald hooked Aevar’s leg and nearly took him down again. Murmurs spread through the crowd. Aevar caught himself and locked Ingvald in a tight hold around the shoulders, dragging himto the ground. Ingvald writhed, refusing to yield. He jammed an elbow into Aevar’s ribs and tried to roll them. Aevar grunted and dug deep, using his weight and strength to hold Ingvald down for several moments.
The horn sounded again. Victory.
The crowd cheered, not for one or the other but in appreciation of a good match. For the glorious mess of it all. Eadlyn pressed her hand to her chest and laughed breathlessly, her whole body buzzing with something bright and unstoppable. Aevar pushed to his feet, grinning, dirt and sweat streaking across his skin. Clapping Ingvald on the back, he turned and walked back toward her with a face of pure triumph.
