Page 53 of Alliance Bride
After tying her hair back in a quick braid, she left the room, drawn into the usual morning routine. Aevar seemed to notice her from where he was talking with Kian, but his gaze did not linger. A sting bloomed behind her ribs. She scolded herself for it. Since when had she started longing for his attention anyway?
She turned toward the women instead. At least his family had not withdrawn from her. They greeted her as lovingly as ever, and she lost herself in the familiar comfort of practicing Nordric over breakfast.
When the meal finished, she followed Heida outside to the grassy patch along one side of the longhouse. The morning was cool but clear—the kind of air that filled her lungs with crisp freshness. Here, Heida handed her a knife the length of her forearm. It settled into her palm, heavier than it looked, but not unmanageable. She turned it in her hand. The edges had been dulled for training.
“We’ll start with this,” Heida said. “Once you are comfortable with that, I’ll show you how to use an axe.”
Eadlyn tightened her grip. The blade pressed against her palm, its weight shifting with each small adjustment of her fingers. She’d never be a warrior like Heida, but if she could walk through the village without fear, that was enough. She had always wanted Galen to train her, but her father hadn’t allowed it. At least Aevar had given his blessing despite whatever issue he had with her.
“I appreciate you taking the time to do this,” she said.
“You’re the princess of Essix and Aevar’s wife. It’s in my best interest to make sure you don’t get killed.” Heida gave her a lopsided smirk. “That, and we all like having you around.”
Eadlyn laughed under her breath. Aevar might be an exception. “I’ll try not to embarrass you too badly.”
“Good.” Heida nodded approvingly. “Confidence is the first lesson.” She stepped back and motioned. “Show me how you hold it.”
Eadlyn adjusted her grip on the knife.
Heida raised a brow and strode over. “We’ll work on that.”
Chapter Nineteen
Thecrackoftrainingswords rang across the sparring field as Aevar drove Rollo backward in a relentless flurry. The boy, just thirteen, had recently joined the huskarls in training and was learning, but not quickly enough. His shield sagged again, leaving his ribs wide open.
“Keep your shield up,” Aevar snapped, the words landing harsher than he’d intended. “It’s no use flopping at your side like a broken wing.”
Rollo flinched but adjusted, sweat streaking down his flushed face. Yet within minutes, the shield drooped once more. Aevar halted the bout with a sharp breath through his nose and gestured toward the sidelines.
“Ingvald, take over.”
As the other warrior stepped in, Aevar strode away, tension knotting his shoulders like rope twisted too tight.
Nearby, Kian leaned on his shield, arms folded and one brow lifted in silent judgment. “Rollo is doing his best. You know he hates to disappoint you.”
“Which is why I had Ingvald step in.” Rollo was a good kid. He just needed more practice, but Aevar did not have the patience for training today. Better to let Ingvald handle it.
Kian gave him that I-know-you-too-well look. “He’s not the only one you’ve been short-tempered with lately.”
Aevar clenched his jaw. The truth of it scraped too close to the surface, and he didn’t trust himself to respond. The fact that he was short-tempered only fueled his dark mood. He knew full well it was uncalled for but wasn’t keen on too closely examining the cause.
Without a word, he handed his sword and shield off to Kian and strode away from the practice field. Kian called after him to ask where he was going, but he waved him off. He needed to clear his head. Maybe a swim would help. Though the days had warmed, the fjord was still cold. Hopefully, cold enough to shock him back to his senses.
At the beach, he walked to one of the docks. The water stretched before him, dark beneath the midmorning sun. Wind moved across its surface, scattering the reflection of the sky. He pulled off his outer garments and walked barefoot to the edge of the dock, the wood rough beneath him.
The cool breeze gave a taste of what was to come. With a deep breath, he dove in. The icy water struck him like a fist, and he surfaced a moment later with a gasp. The cold clutched his chest, coiling around his lungs and limbs, stealing the air from his body. Each breath burned, but he forced his muscles into motion, treading water and letting it pull the heat and frustration from his blood until the worst of the tightness in his chest loosened. As soon as he could breathe more fully, he struck out toward themiddle of the fjord as if his thoughts would stay behind if he pushed far enough.
But they followed.
Eadlyn’s soft voice reading at night. Her fingers smoothing her apron dress. The confusion in her eyes.
He swam hard, out past the shallows, into the deeper chill where the water turned black beneath him. His arms ached, and the cold burrowed down to his bones. Only then did he turn and cut back toward the dock, breath coming in harsh pulls. His limbs dragged with effort, and his whole body had numbed. His mind not as much as he’d hoped.
When he reached the dock, Erik waited there, crouched like a cat and grinning. “Cold?”
Aevar huffed a breath, not dignifying the question. Erik offered a hand and hauled him up onto the sun-warmed wood. Water streamed off him, dripping from his hair and limbs. The sun was hot on his skin, but it only made the chill more apparent, a contrast that prickled and burned.
He swiped the water away and reached for his clothes. “What are you doing here?”
