Tears of the Wolf (Wrath and Weeping #1)

Chapter 1 Brynn

Brynn

Marriage was the second fastest way to get rid of a woman, and the king was quite eager to get rid of Brynn. At least, that was the way it felt. Perhaps she should be grateful her uncle was making this simple. If he had merely wanted her gone, he could have had her murdered and been done with it.

But for King Aelgar to marry her off to the husband of his choosing, he first had to deal with Brynn’s current one.

Brynn sat quietly while her maidservant braided her hair and layered strands of carnelian beads around her neck. She tried not to feel anything, her thoughts hovering above the dark chasm of grief in her chest like a seabird over the deep.

All around her, the room was alive with activity. Lady Eadburh, Brynn’s aunt by marriage, oversaw the maids. She directed them this way and that, calling out commands like a shepherdess whistling to her dogs. Brynn had been invited to Eadburh’s chambers to get ready. It was a kind gesture, but Brynn didn’t think she would ever be ready for what she was about to do.

“Are you sure about this, Lady Brynn?” the maid asked quietly, her hands shaking as she secured Brynn’s mantle with a silver brooch.

“It will be alright, Esa.” Brynn’s words seemed to belong to someone else. Brynn had lost nearly everything that mattered to her, but she still had Esa to consider.

Eadburh’s shouting tones dropped suddenly, her voice softening.

Brynn looked up to see her aunt crouched down before a small boy, only recently learned to walk on his own. A nursemaid hovered at his back and Eadburh gestured quickly to the woman, trying to get them both out of the room, away from Brynn.

“Aeldred, Mama will come to see you later,” Eadburh assured the child. “Be a good lad and go with Hilda for now.” Eadburh knelt and kissed the boy’s head, and he smiled up at her.

Brynn stared at them, that chasm in her chest threatening to drag her down again. The boy was herded out by his nursemaid and Brynn couldn’t look away.

Aeldred was not that much older than Brynn’s own son had been. Like her son, Aeldred had the bright red hair that favored the men in their family. Eadburh had kept Aeldred away from her these past months, trying to be considerate. Brynn wasn’t sure if she was grateful or not. It hurt to see the child, but somehow it hurt to be hidden from him, too.

Eadburh approached Brynn, a sad smile on her face, hands held nervously before her. “Lady Brynn, how are you?”

Eadburh was a pale woman who always wore her hair covered modestly. People called her severe, overbearing, and made jokes about her behind her back. Brynn had never liked her when they were younger, but Eadburh had been kind to her these past months. At least she had tried.

Brynn’s mouth moved in what she hoped resembled a smile. “Well. Thank you.”

Eadburh nodded, hands clenching in front of her. “My lord husband is almost ready to see you.”

“Thank you.” Brynn didn’t know what else to say.

Eadburh came and crouched before Brynn, taking Brynn’s hands in hers. “It will be over soon.”

Brynn wasn’t sure what it Eadburh was referring to, but she answered, “Yes.”

Six years of marriage. Six years of seething resentment and cold apathy.

Paega never desired to marry Brynn. He’d made it clear from the start. He had no interest in a bride less than half his age, young enough to be his child. The Istovari Mothers had chosen him for the honor of marrying a sorceress with royal blood and his people had needed their protection. Not to mention he'd lost all five of his sons in the war. He needed heirs. He’d had no choice.

But Brynn hadn’t had a choice, either.

“Is Paega here?” Brynn asked, trying not to feel anything as she asked the question.

Eadburh’s face flinched, but she looked away. “He sent his nephew as a representative.”

Brynn forced back more tears at that. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know. She’d told him her plans explicitly when she’d left him and come here, to her uncle the king. Paega had been given three months to object, but not a word.

Brynn didn’t want him to object. Not really. She just wanted him to show her something. They’d lived together for six years, had a son together. She had run his household and the even the shire of Glasney itself.

And it had meant nothing. He couldn’t even go to the trouble to tell her good riddance.

Former husband, Brynn corrected herself. She needed to start thinking of Paega as her former husband.

At least he had sent a representative. This way, no one could claim he hadn’t known.

Once again, he had done the absolute bare minimum.

Brynn sensed the handmaiden before she looked up to see the girl waiting in the doorway. Her posture and the way she held her shoulders stiff told Brynn she had a message.

Eadburh looked up, back straightening. “Has the king called for us?”

The handmaiden nodded. “King Aelgar is ready to hear Lady Brynn’s petition.”

Esa stepped aside, signaling that she was finished.

Brynn stood. She thought she should feel something. Something besides that churning abyss of grief and the numbness that sometimes iced over it. She didn’t.

“You may go,” Eadburh said to the messenger.

“Pardon me, Lady Eadburh. But the king also says to inform Lady Brynn that Alderman Cenric is here.”

A jolt pierced through Brynn’s numbness at that. “Alderman Cenric of Ombra?”

“Yes, lady.”

Her new husband. The man Aelgar had found to replace Paega.

“Already?” Eadburh seemed surprised as well.

Aelgar had sent a missive to Cenric only a week ago. With sailing times from the king’s seat at Ungamot to Alderman Cenric’s shire of Ombra, Cenric must have set out immediately after receiving the news.

The handmaiden inclined her head. “Yes, lady.”

After months of waiting, suddenly everything was happening so fast. But Brynn had set this plan in motion. Now was the time to see it through.

Brynn exhaled, letting go of any apprehension or hesitation she might have felt. This was her choice.

Eadburh came up beside Brynn. “This way, my dear.” They were almost the same age, but Eadburh seemed to take the role of aunt seriously.

Brynn allowed the king’s wife to lead her through the stone corridors of Ungamot, toward the king’s hall. Ungamot was a collection of stone rooms chiseled from the guts of a cliffside.

No one remembered who had originally built this structure, but it had served as the seat for the kings of Hylden for generations. Brynn’s father had ruled from here, as had her grandfather. Now her uncle continued the tradition.

People rushed past them, servants with messages, baskets of eggs, and buckets of water, and the well-dressed ladies of the gentry. Most recognized Eadburh and Brynn, stopping to bow to the wife of the current king and the daughter of the last king.

Esa trailed after them, the quiet girl keeping her head down as befitted a servant. She might be a sorceress, too, but she was still a servant.

Brynn caught the drone of voices as they drew nearer the king’s hall. The hall served for feasts and a place for the servants to sleep at night, but during the day it was where King Aelgar settled disputes and granted petitions.

The vaulted chamber was filled with people as it always was. There was usually a festive air to the chamber. Mead flowed at most hours and a skald or two could usually be seen plucking a harp in the corner.

Today, the festive air seemed muted. Greyed. No music hummed and no strong drink poured. The laughter seemed forced and the faces solemn.

Or perhaps that was just how Brynn saw it. Perhaps that was just how the world looked through the fog of mourning.

Several aldermen—rulers of shires—gathered around the room with their sons, nephews, and retainers. Thanes—warriors who served the aldermen—stood by their sides. No weapons were permitted in the hall, and that was for the best. A few women accompanied their men, wives and daughters decked in furs and stones to flaunt the wealth of their husbands and fathers.

With so many bodies packed together, the room shimmered with ka, the pure energy that suffused all living things. It would be invisible to anyone who wasn’t a sorceress, but to Brynn’s senses, the room was aglow with power. Ka was not life itself, nor was ka magic itself, but ka was necessary for both.

Brynn spotted Wassa, the sorceress who attended the king. Brynn had never known her well, but she had been notably silent on this plan of Brynn’s.

Near the center of the room, Brynn spotted Hrotheld, Paega’s nephew. He was a young man, handsome with an easy charm. He usually laughed and joked, but today he was solemn like the rest of them.

Brynn recognized a few other faces, but she looked straight to Aelgar. Her uncle was only a few years her senior, the product of her late grandfather’s appreciation for young women and aged wine. But like Eadburh, Aelgar seemed far older. His face was serious, he rarely laughed, and though she thought him a good man, he always seemed to be balanced on a knife’s edge—as if he feared going too far in one direction or the other would lead to disaster.

Her uncle spotted her. He stepped away from the circle of advisors and retainers, toward his mercy seat.

It was a wooden chair set on a raised platform at the head of the room. Aelgar liked to use it for passing judgments, even when people made snide comments about him trying to imitate the great palaces of the distant southern kings.

A gradual shushing fell over the room as Aelgar took his seat.

Brynn glanced around the chamber, guessing there must be three hundred people packed into this hall. Good. That was a few hundred witnesses to the end of her marriage to Paega. More than had witnessed her wedding.

“Lady Brynn, my dearest niece.” Aelgar’s voice rose over the quieted chamber. He did not have an impressive voice, but it carried nonetheless.

Brynn came to stand before his mercy seat and bowed. The crowd parted, giving space to the main spectacle. She stood alone before the king.

“You have requested a petition from your king.” This was all a formality for the benefit of the onlookers. Everything had already been decided.

“Yes, lord.” Brynn kept her head bowed.

“You are my only niece, sole surviving child of my late brother, King Eormenulf. Sister to Aelfwynn the Brave, as loyal a warrior as ever there was.” Everyone here knew who Brynn was, but he was taking the time to remind them. Brynn wasn’t sure why, but she remained silent. This was his hall. His kingdom. His decision. “Whatever I can grant you, be assured I will.”

Brynn licked her lips nervously.

“You have requested a divorcement from Paega of Glasney on grounds of dereliction. Is that correct?”

Her uncle had already agreed to this, seemed eager to agree to it, even. She still felt herself tremble as she said, “Yes, lord.”

“I have heard your case these past months and I am satisfied your case is valid.” Aelgar gestured to the room. “Is Paega or his representative here to answer to these accusations?”

“My uncle has sent me in his stead, lord.” Hrotheld stepped forward, bowing as he did. “Hrotheld, son of Hrulfan. My mother Ulstrid was Paega’s sister.”

Aelgar inclined his head to the young man. “How does your uncle answer Lady Brynn’s accusation?”

Hrotheld looked to Brynn almost apologetically. “He offers no contest, lord.”

That earned a stunned silence from the onlookers. Some of them might still remember Paega Ironarm, the young man who had been all but a legend in the warband of Brynn’s father. Young Paega had, by all accounts, been a fierce and cunning warrior.

But the Paega Brynn knew was a man aged beyond his years by grief and loss. He had no interest in anything but the past.

When she’d told him she was pregnant, Paega had told her that the baby was hers and he wanted nothing to do with it. Foolishly, Brynn had hoped Paega would change his mind after the child arrived, especially when it had been a son. He hadn’t.

Hrotheld nodded to Brynn again. “My uncle has sent me to return her dowry and asks that you rule in her favor for a divorcement.”

Brynn closed her eyes. A heavy weight seemed to crash over her—a sense of failure. It was the confirmation that the past six years of her life had been wasted. She had poured her heart and soul into being the perfect wife, a good mother, and all for nothing.

She’d had a son and if her son had been all that had come of it, she might have had something to hold onto. Someday, she might even have thought it was worth it.

But now her son was dead and like everything else, Paega simply did not care.

Aelgar seemed to consider this situation. He asked Hrotheld several more questions. Hrotheld answered.

Brynn bowed her head, trying to keep herself together for a few more moments. This would be quick. Aelgar had already found her another husband. He’d made it clear he planned to rule in her favor. She just needed to remain composed while they observed these rituals of mediation.

A hot sensation crawled along the back of Brynn’s neck. The feeling of being watched. There were hundreds of eyes on her, of course she was being watched. But something from the corner of her eye moved.

A man circled through the crowd around to her left. He studied her, head canted slightly and brows furrowed with interest.

He was around average height with chestnut hair that reached his broad shoulders and a close-cut dark beard. His red mantle was pinned over one shoulder with a wolf-head brooch and a collection of silver rings in varying sizes flashed on his forearms. He might not have stood out to her if not for the way he moved through the crowd, stalking like he was a forest predator, and the other onlookers were just trees. Brynn noticed two other men trailing after him, but the man with the wolf brooch seemed to be their leader.

The stranger studied her intently. His gaze swept over her from head to foot and their eyes met.

Brynn expected him to look away, as most men did with sorceresses, but he didn’t. He held her stare, unblinking and unabashed. His boldness sent a shiver through her. She didn’t know what to make of it.

Aelgar was speaking again.

Brynn tore her eyes away from the stranger and back to her uncle.

“If Alderman Paega offers no contest to Lady Brynn’s accusations, then I must rule in her favor. I grant her petition for a divorcement.”

Silence greeted the announcement.

Brynn made herself go numb. She could feel things in the privacy of her own rooms, not here. Not with everyone watching.

“Does anyone object to my judgment?” Aelgar searched the room.

Brynn held her breath, not sure why.

A moment later, her uncle continued. “With no objections, Lady Brynn’s petition for divorcement is granted, and she is no longer the wife of Alderman Paega. Hrotheld, you are to return Lady Brynn’s dowry on behalf of your uncle.”

Hrotheld bowed again. “Yes, lord.”

Aelgar stirred from his mercy seat, stepping down to return to his retainers. He cast Brynn a reassuring smile as he did.

Brynn forced a smile back in gratitude. Perhaps she should feel triumph, or at least relief. But this was not a victory. This was the amputation of a gangrenous limb. Just because it was necessary did not make it pleasant.

The crowd returned to their quiet conversations and Brynn felt their stares, heard her name and Paega’s whispered from right and left. The name no one spoke was the name of her son. And why should they speak his name? He had barely reached his first birthday. At least half of all children died before their fifth.

Paega’s first wife and their five sons had been buried in the hills outside the keep. Paega spent most his days pulling weeds from their cairns and tending the trees he had planted around them. Paega hadn’t even wanted to build a cairn for Brynn’s son.

“Aunt—Lady Brynn.” Hrotheld bowed to her. “I…” He cleared his throat, glancing toward the king. “I hope you are well?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Brynn swallowed, hands held in front of her.

Hrotheld inhaled, then exhaled. “I’m sorry to see you go. We all are.”

Brynn forced a smile past the tears that threatened to come up. “Everyone except your uncle.”

Hrotheld made a frustrated sound. He ran a hand through his hair, then looked back to her. “I wish things were different.”

“As do I.” Brynn had often wondered why her mother hadn’t married her to Hrotheld instead. He hadn’t been married at the time and since his uncle had no sons, he would probably end up as alderman of Glasney one day. The two of them were close in age and Hrotheld might not be a remarkable warrior or poet or craftsman, but at least he didn’t spend his days pining for the dead. It didn’t matter now, Brynn supposed.

Hrotheld bowed again. He stayed out of arms’ reach. “You were always dear to my mother. The closest thing she had to a daughter.”

Brynn nodded, looking down. Paega’s elder sister Ulstrid had been kind to her. Kinder than Brynn’s own mother ever had been. Brynn had called her Aunt Ulstrid, despite her technically being a sister-in-law. Even Ulstrid had put more effort into Brynn’s marriage than Paega had.

Hrotheld’s eyes slid past her, falling on someone at her back. “I wish you well, Lady Brynn.”

Brynn turned, following Hrotheld’s gaze. It was the stranger with the wolf’s head brooch. He stayed a few steps back, but something about the way he stared felt like he was closing in on her.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Hrotheld chuckled nervously at the other man.

The stranger’s eyes snapped to Hrotheld, then back to Brynn. “Cenric, son of Wulfram, alderman of Ombra.”

Brynn’s heart flipped in her chest. This was the man Aelgar had found for her.

He was far younger than she expected. He couldn’t be much older than her, if he was older at all. Aelgar had told her Cenric had recently become alderman of Ombra only a couple of years ago, but for some reason, she had pictured him as a grizzled veteran of the north.

Brynn opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“Cenric!” Aelgar was at Brynn’s shoulder the next moment. He must have seen the other man closing in on her from across the room. “You’re early.”

Cenric bowed to Aelgar, but it seemed forced, like he didn’t want to take his eyes off Brynn even for that single moment. “You sent for me, my king. I saw no reason to delay.”

“This is Lady Brynn.” Aelgar presented her as if everyone in this room didn’t know who she was. “My niece and sorceress of the highest caliber.”

Cenric’s gaze flicked over Brynn again. His expression remained unreadable.

“Have you finished your harvests yet?”

“About halfway.” Cenric glanced to Aelgar as he spoke, then his gaze returned to Brynn.

“You must be eager to return to them,” Aelgar said.

“It’s more raiders that concern me.” Cenric looked back to Brynn. “Our shire is usually the first to be raided.”

Brynn felt herself growing sick. Aelgar was sending her to the far north, where he knew raids were the most likely. Was this some kind of sick joke?

Aelgar took Brynn’s hand.

Brynn started at the gesture. Her uncle was not one given to shows of affection.

Aelgar was still speaking to Cenric. “I think we can finalize your wedding tonight.”

Tonight? Brynn had to fight to keep from yanking her hand out of her uncle’s grip.

So fast. This was all happening too fast.

Brynn felt dazed, as if she had been spun in circles too many times.

“That seems quick, lord.” Cenric, to his credit, sounded apprehensive.

“You have already agreed to accept Lady Brynn.” Aelgar looked over his niece. “And she has agreed to accept you.”

Brynn stared at Cenric’s boots. They were worn, the sign of a man who had places to be.

Cenric shifted. “May I speak with the lady in private, my king?”

Aelgar cocked his head at that.

Cenric looked back to Brynn. “If it pleases you.”

“If the lady allows it.” Aelgar’s tone lowered, the words clipped short, as if he was trying to remind Cenric of his place.

Interesting. Her uncle didn’t seem to like this man. Why was he having Cenric marry his dear niece then?

“I will allow it.” Brynn would rather not start her second marriage with an argument. “You may speak with me in private, lord.”

Cenric inclined his head sharply. “My king.” He took Brynn’s free hand and tugged her after him.

Brynn was too startled to react. He was touching her? His forwardness caught her off guard as he pulled her to the side of the room. A few people stared, but the two men who had followed him formed a protective barrier, closing them off from the others.

Cenric faced her, still fixing her in that intent stare she didn’t understand.

At least her second husband seemed to find her interesting.