Page 33 of Alliance Bride
She looked up with a knowing smile. “She asked if she could retire to your room for the night.”
Aevar breathed out, the knot in his chest easing but not vanishing entirely.
“She’s all right?” he pressed, scanning Ranvi’s face for any hint that might betray otherwise.
“She’s fine. Just tired, I think. It’s been a long day. A lot for her to take in.”
Aevar straightened. Though there was no true cause for concern, the strange, persistent pull to check on her remained, gnawing at the edges of his mind.
The hum of voices and laughter from the feast still seeped through the walls, but the closed door softened the noise enough for Eadlyn to focus on the Scriptures. She’d done her best to withstand it, but the crowded hall and the rowdy behavior had left her suffocating. She hoped stepping away helped, though a small part of her still worried she had made a mistake by withdrawing so early. Ranvi had understood, at least.
Now, as she read, the tension in her body loosened. Her breathing steadied despite how the dull roar from beyond the door still left her on edge.
The door creaked open, and her heart jumped into her throat. She spun in her seat, but relief flooded through her when Aevar stepped inside.
He paused, scanning her face as if searching for something unseen. Concern darkened his eyes. “Are you all right?”
Eadlyn nodded, offering a small, apologetic smile. “Yes.”
“Were you not enjoying the feast?”
She hesitated, weighing her words. After seeing how much effort went into the festivities and what it meant to the Nords, she didn’t want to offend anyone, especially Inga and Ranvi. “I just needed space.”
Aevar’s expression softened, as though sensing more beneath the surface. “I’m sorry if you noticed anyone talking about you or looking at you oddly. Most are only curious. They mean no offense.”
“That’s to be expected. It doesn’t bother me.” At least not much. Even back in Kenwich, she was used to whisperings behind her back. Coming from her own people cut deeper than it did here. “That’s not why I left.”
He tilted his head. “May I ask why?”
Eadlyn drew a slow breath. Though she had reconciled with the past, the sight of drunken revelry still stirred something in her. “The drinking…it makes me uncomfortable.”
Aevar shrugged, a small, matter-of-fact gesture. “Drinking is part of feasting.”
“I know.” She paused. Though they were still strangers in so many ways, he was her husband. He deserved the truth. “It’s just that…my father drank more than he should have, and when he did, that’s when he was at his worst.”
She caught herself touching the scar on her lips.
Aevar must have too. He stilled, his jaw tightening. “He did that to you?”
“Yes.” She kept herself emotionless, refusing to let the memories hold power over her.
“Then he is lucky he is already dead.” His voice held a protective, almost vengeful edge. The tone surprised her, an unexpected shift from the distant and controlled mask she was used to.
Aevar pushed away from the door and crossed the room to lean against the wall opposite her, arms folding across his chest. “How did he die?”
The memory of that day came to her. It had been snowing—the first snow of the season—and she’d returned from a walk in the courtyard. Her father had ambushed her on her way in, shouting drunkenly about something she didn’t even recall now before storming off. She’d heard his stumbling steps echoing down the hallway, followed by a loud crash.
“He’d been drinking all morning. He fell down the stairs at the palace and hit his head. He never woke up and died three days later.”
Aevar absorbed the information in silence.
A sudden roar of laughter from the feast outside broke the stillness, and Eadlyn flinched despite herself.
“So that’s why,” she said, gesturing toward the door, “I prefer to leave when the drink flows too freely.”
“I understand.” Aevar’s voice was quiet now, an anger still simmering beneath the surface. He glanced at the Scripture pages. “Does your Holy Book say anything about drinking?”
Interesting he asked that. “It does. ‘Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.’ How can you oppose evil if you’re too drunk or distracted to notice it?”
