Page 83 of Alliance Bride
Chapter Thirty-one
Eadlyntookasteamingmug of tea from Alys, cradling it in both hands. Chamomile and willow bark wafted into the air, comforting but slightly bitter. She carried it to where Aevar sat near the central hearth. The glow of the fire wavered across his face, casting shadows that exaggerated the pallor of his skin. He shifted at her approach, a grimace tightening his features. This was not the first time she’d caught him wincing today.Lord, let this bring him relief.
She held out the mug. He accepted it, a whisper of gratitude softening the fatigue in his eyes. “Tahk.”
He took a sip and released a slow breath. Eadlyn settled into the chair beside him and gathered the remaining pages of Scripture she’d been reading aloud. She’d offered it as a distraction from the pain and the heaviness that had settled over the household like a veil. For two hours, they’d read together in quiet companionship. She hoped some words had reached Inga and Ranvi too.
“Would you like me to read more?” she asked, eyeing how he clutched the mug. They were just about through the collection she’d brought with her from Essix. She hoped to write to Edward as soon as possible and ask for the missing books. Anything to continue what had become a cherished ritual between them.
“It will soon be time to eat…and then we must gather to light the first pyres.” He offered a wan smile, but pain left grooves in his forehead. “Perhaps later.”
She gathered the pages, a knot forming in her throat. As she carried them back to their room, the longhouse pressed in around her, heavier than it had all day. As if the weight of the dead hung in the beams and rafters.
Dinner passed in subdued murmurs. Aevar only picked at his food. Eadlyn watched from the corner of her eye, her own appetite waning with every shallow breath he took.
Dusk had draped itself over the village by the time they gathered at the forest’s edge. The huskarls flanked them in silence, torchlight flickering on grim faces. Villagers followed in a solemn procession. Six pyres stood waiting with the bodies of the fallen laid atop them and surrounded by tokens of their lives. Blades rested in the hands of the warriors, polished one last time. Aevar had explained that, once burned, the ashes would be scattered over the fjord or buried in memorial mounds.
Runar stepped forward, his voice low and reverent. He praised the fallen, calling them brave, worthy, and welcomed by the gods into Valhalla. But Eadlyn’s heart pained to hear it. She bowed her head and prayed. For the souls of the living. For the lost to find the truth. And for God to provide the opportunity for her to be a light to them.
When Runar finished, the families stepped forward, torches trembling in their hands. Flames touched the edges of the pyres and then rose in a consuming roar. Burning wood and cloth filledthe damp night air, the acrid heat brushing Eadlyn’s skin and clogging her lungs. Sobs rose around her. Her chest ached at the sound. It could have been Aevar lying on one of those pyres or someone else from her family.
She turned to take his hand, but her breath caught.
Aevar was swaying.
Before she could reach for him, he staggered. Kian caught his arm just in time to keep him from collapsing.
“I’m all right,” Aevar muttered, his breath uneven.
“You’re not.” Kian pressed the back of his hand to Aevar’s forehead. His expression darkened. “You’re burning up.”
“It’s the fires.” Aevar tried to shrug him off.
Kian snorted, though the sound lacked humor. “Not unless you’ve been roasting your brain over one.”
Aevar didn’t argue further. He just closed his eyes as if even staying upright was more than he could manage.
Inga stepped in with firm guidance. “Let’s get you back to the longhouse.”
He gave a weak protest before stumbling again. Erik moved to his other side, and together he and Kian half-carried him away from the pyres. Eadlyn followed close, her heart pounding at a frantic pace against her ribs.
Halfway there, Aevar lurched forward and vomited into the dirt. The harsh sound tore through Eadlyn, and she clutched her stomach, bile rising in sympathy.Lord, I don’t know what is wrong, but please let him be all right.No one spoke, but Eadlyn sensed the growing fear surrounding her.
Back at the longhouse, she rushed ahead to their room, flinging back the bedding with shaking hands. She turned as they brought him in.
Aevar tried to resist. “No. It’s your bed.”
She ignored him, and Kian and Erik eased him down, guiding his sagging form to the edge of the mattress.
“I need to see the wound,” Inga said, her voice clipped but steady.
Eadlyn stepped in to help, peeling away his damp tunic. Her breath caught when the bandages fell. The wound was inflamed, angry red streaks spreading far beyond the original cut.
Inga’s gaze flicked to her, then to the others. “We need the healer. Now.”
“I’ll get her,” Braan said, already moving.
They lowered Aevar back against the pillows. Sweat beaded on his skin.
