Page 97 of Alliance Bride
Oda scowled but backed away and snapped her knife into the sheath. She glanced at the other woman before turning to Eadlyn again and speaking in Aerlish.
“Make sure she suffers. If I can’t have what I want, then neither can Aevar.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Aevarrestedhisscytheon the ground and dragged a forearm across his brow. The sun bore down, heavy and unrelenting, wrapping the field in a haze of heat and dust. His shoulders ached, and every breath tasted of hay and sweat. Nearby, his father, brothers, and Kian worked alongside the thralls, their blades sweeping through the tall grass. The sharp swish of metal as it sliced through stalks blended with the low drone of insects.
Another day nearly done. They’d finish this field by nightfall. Then, after a dip in the fjord, he could go home to supper. To Eadlyn.
He reached for the waterskin offered by one of the older thrall women, nodded his thanks, and drank. Cool water cut through the heat in his throat. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until now. When he handed it back and bent to retrieve his scythe, movement caught the edge of his vision. A lone figure running. Fast. He shaded his eyes and recognized Ingvald. Thehuskarl’s full sprint soured the water in Aevar’s stomach and turned the sweat clinging to his back to ice. Something was wrong.
Ingvald didn’t veer toward Fathir. Instead, he came straight toward Aevar.
Aevar’s pulse stuttered, then slammed into a faster rhythm. “What happened?”
“The women,” Ingvald gasped. “They were ambushed. Eadlyn was taken.”
Aevar didn’t even feel the scythe slip from his fingers. He only heard it hit the ground with a dull thud that echoed through the hollow in his chest.
“What?” he choked.
“I don’t know more. I came straight here.”
The rest died away beneath the sudden, rushing roar in Aevar’s ears.Eadlyn. Taken. The two words didn’t belong in the same breath. Fathir’s commanding voice cut through the fog, but Aevar barely heard it. The others converged, questions flying, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. He turned and ran.
The children’s cries met him before he even reached the longhouse. Their wails echoed off the timber walls, and as he burst inside, he found them clinging to Ranvi, whose face stretched tight with worry. Heida sat on the edge of the table, Móthir working in front of her.
But no Eadlyn.
The breath died in his lungs. Some part of him had refused to believe she was gone, but her absence struck like a blow to the ribs.
The women turned toward him. First came his mother’s pained regret. A look far too reminiscent of the one she’d given him the day Thora died. He dropped his gaze to the blood onHeida’s sleeve. When their eyes met, hers roiled with both remorse and anger.
“Aevar, I’m sorry. I tried…” She shook her head.
He crossed the space in long strides, the rest of the men piling in behind him. “What happened?” His voice cracked. “Who was it? Where is she?”
“Three of them. They looked Kalgoran, but—” A deep groan that Heida forced through her teeth like more of a growl cut her off as Móthir applied pressure to the wound.
The couple of heartbeats of waiting—the couple of heartbeats he did not know where Eadlyn was or if she was even still alive—almost broke Aevar. “But what?”
She sucked in a hard breath. “But they fought like Nords. And the one I spoke to was fluent in Goric, but there was something off about it, like it was not his native tongue.”
Aevar’s mind spun, but the only clear thought was Eadlyn. Getting to her. Now. “Where did they attack?”
“Northeast. Near the old bilberry patch.”
Behind him, Fathir gave orders to Ingvald to gather men and horses. He then stood at Aevar’s side and focused on Heida.
“You’re sure they were Nords?”
Heida winced. “No, but I don’t believe they were typical Kalgoran raiders either.”
If it was Nords, who would dress up like Kalgorans and take Eadlyn? They would have to have a reason. A move like that could start a war. Aevar’s thoughts scrambled until one name launched itself into the forefront of his mind.
“Staegar.” He spun toward his father. “It must be him. Who else would target her like this?”
Fathir didn’t speak, but his grim expression was answer enough.
