Page 99 of Alliance Bride
“One of his other settlements then. We’ll start with the closest and work our way through them.”
War might follow, but he didn’t care.
“He wouldn’t risk that either. He would take her somewhere isolated. Somewhere we wouldn’t think to look and won’t draw attention from anyone less than loyal to him.”
Aevar’s pulse thundered in frustration. “Then what? We go back and do nothing?”
“We go back for Jorund.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the horses seemed to still.
“He’s the best tracker we have,” Fathir went on. “He’ll be able to find the trail again. If we press forward now, blind, we might lose more time. Or lose her entirely.”
Aevar struggled to breathe. It would take an hour to return to the village. More to get back here. Jorund then needed time to track. “They already have the lead. And now we’re going to give them more?”
Fathir’s voice softened. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the best chance we have. And once we do find her, we could be outnumbered. We need to prepare for a fight now that they’ve had time to gather more men.”
Every part of Aevar resisted. Rage, fear, and helplessness twisted in his gut. But Fathir was right. Charging in half-armed when the captors could have met up with reinforcements was a quick way to fail. He forced himself to nod, though everything in him screamed to press on.
Back at the longhouse, Aevar marched straight to his room and threw open the old chest where he kept his armor. He yanked off his sweat-soaked tunic and pulled on a clean one, the cool fabric clinging to skin still hot from the ride. Then came the reinforced leather jerkin, scarred and worn with the memory of past battles. The motions were familiar, muscle memory guiding him.
His gaze slipped to the bed.
Still. Undisturbed.
The room pressed in without her presence. Silence wrapped around him, bringing ghosts in its wake. The emptiness after Thora’s death. Nights that didn’t end. Days that bled together. The part of him that had so recently healed now throbbed like an oldwound ripped open. He dragged a breath into lungs that refused to expand.
He would find her. Or die trying.
Strapping on his sword and seax, he returned to the hall where his father, brothers, and Kian had already donned their own armor. Fathir wore the chain mail passed down through generations, its links darkened with time. Heida entered a moment later, dressed for battle despite the fresh bandage on her arm.
Braan eyed her. “You should stay here. You’re wounded.”
Her voice was quiet but lined with iron. “I’m going.”
“And what if they actually were Kalgorans and the blade was poisoned?” Braan pressed. “What if you fall ill?”
Heida turned to face him. “Then you leave me behind.”
They stared each other down, the air thick between them, until she sighed.
“I couldn’t stop them from taking her. I need to help bring her back.”
Braan’s expression softened as he relented.
Móthir approached. Her face was set and grim with purpose, but Aevar caught the fear in her eyes. The same fear she’d worn before they’d lost Thora. She loved Eadlyn. They all did.
“We’ve packed provisions. Enough for a few days. Gods willing, you won’t need them.” She gestured to the packs laid out on the table.
They gathered the supplies and carried them out to the horses.
Here, Fathir faced Móthir and set his hands on her shoulders. “Keep an eye out for trouble, especially from Ormvik. If you suspect anything, send for more men from our other villages and to Halbjorn. And send ravens to the other jarls. Don’t mentionStaegar, only that Kalgorans took Eadlyn, and everyone should be on the lookout for her in case we don’t find her right away.”
She nodded. “Be careful.”
“We will.” He drew her close and kissed her.
A short distance away, Erik exchanged parting words with Ranvi. Aevar couldn’t help but watch. The pain in his chest stabbed deeper. He should’ve been holding Eadlyn. He should’ve had her beside him, safe, whole. Her absence screamed in the spaces she used to fill. Standing here alone brought the agony of the past roaring back.
