Page 67 of Alliance Bride
He looked her over with thinly veiled interest, gaze lingering where it shouldn’t. She lifted the blue linen higher, shielding herself as she straightened her spine. His smile turned oily as he named the price, which was high as expected.
She considered it but then set the beads back. She wouldn’t spend Edward’s silver on a whim. Especially not on something this trivial. She had necklaces among the things Galen had brought. She’d repurpose one of those. And she didn’t care to reward the merchant’s attention, either.
Aevar was beginning to like Galen.
The man didn’t pretend to be anything other than what he was—blunt, loyal, and fiercely protective. Aevar didn’t doubt for a moment that if he ever hurt Eadlyn, Galen would kill him withouthesitation. And somehow, that made Aevar like him all the more. His father and brothers seemed to enjoy the man’s company as well. Even Braan, usually skeptical, had laughed more than once at Galen’s dry commentary.
After their swim in the fjord, they returned to the longhouse. The place was quiet, the women and children gone, save for the thralls, who greeted them with pitchers of mead and drinking horns. Aevar took one and sank onto a shaded bench outside. The others sprawled along the wall, stretching and lounging. Green grass, fjord water, and warm earth mingled with the honeyed sweetness of the mead.
Galen drank deeply and gave a grunt of approval. “That’s good.”
“Thank you,” Fathir said. “My wife and Ranvi oversee the brewing.”
They talked of village routines and longhouse life. The mood was relaxed, edges smoothed by sun and drink.
“You know,” Erik said, turning to Galen, “it’s a shame you weren’t here a few days ago. You could’ve joined us forknattleikr.”
“Knatt-what?” Galen raised a brow.
“A ball game,” Aevar said, grinning.
Kian downed a gulp of mead. “And not for the faint of heart. We’ve still got two men limping.”
He launched into a dramatic retelling of the match and how he and Aevar had triumphed despite the odds. Galen listened with amusement that soon gave way to shaking his head.
“Do all your pastimes involve bloodshed?”
There was a collective shrug and a rumble of laughter from the group.
Aevar tipped his horn toward him. “Eadlyn enjoyed watching.”
“Did she?”
Aevar nodded. “I heard her cheering for me louder than anyone.”
“Huh.” Galen seemed to chew on that, the corners of his mouth twitching.
Not long after, the sound of returning voices floated on the breeze, light and familiar. The women and children approached from the market, baskets under arms. The children ran ahead, laughing and shouting. Aevar spotted Eadlyn right away, drawn to her smile. She was glowing. Galen’s visit clearly meant more than a simple check-in. He was family, not just a guard. Aevar hated to think of the ache that might follow when he left. But that was not today.
“Find anything worth the walk?” Fathir asked.
“A few things.” Móthir lifted a bundle of herbs Aevar did not recognize.
His gaze returned to Eadlyn, noting the blue linen in her arms. He imagined her in a dress of that color, and the thought lingered.
Setting his mead aside and pushing to his feet, Galen folded his arms. “What’s this I hear about you cheering for some bloody ball sport?”
Eadlyn froze mid-step, eyes wide like Trygg caught sneaking honey. Aevar bit back a laugh.
She recovered and lifted her chin. “I was supporting my husband.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Galen chuckled. “Wait until Edward hears.”
“No! He can’t keep a secret to save his life. If the nobles find out, they’ll think I’ve turned savage.”
“Well…” Galen gestured to her attire.
She smacked his arm. “We arenotsavages in Fjellheim.”
