Tears of the Wolf (Wrath and Weeping #1)

Chapter 2 Cenric

Cenric

Lady Brynn was beautiful, which was another thing that didn’t make sense.

She was the daughter of the late King Eormenulf, whose praises still flowed from the lips of skalds across Hylden. Not only that, but she was a sorceress of some impressive skill, according to what he had been able to learn.

He'd waited and watched for the past few nights, but Morgi had sent no foretelling. His patron goddess usually sent warning if he was about to make any particularly bad decisions. But Morgi had seemingly failed to warn his father and brothers of their deaths, so Cenric’s trust in her these days was tenuous.

Cenric inspected Brynn closer, but he couldn’t see anything wrong. She had all her teeth, skin smooth and free of disease. She walked easily enough, so she was reasonably able-bodied. The king’s summons mentioned that she’d lost her one-year-old, so she wasn’t barren.

This all seemed too good to be true and Cenric couldn’t shake the feeling it was a trap.

King Aelgar had said she was a reward for his loyalty. Cenric had pledged allegiance to Aelgar, but so did every other alderman in Hylden. Cenric had done no great service that he could think of.

Cenric held Ombra, but that had belonged to his family for generations. And it served Aelgar—Ombra was the farthest northern holding in the kingdom. It was usually the first to be raided by Valdari ships. Aelgar’s best interest was to see that Ombra remained a secure stronghold.

Who better to secure it than Cenric of Ombra? The man who was as much Valdari as Hyldish.

Cenric realized he had been staring at his intended for several moments without speaking. She looked straight ahead, not quite at him. “Lady Brynn.” Cenric cleared his throat. “Are you being forced into this?”

Brynn’s face remained impassive. “I am not.”

Cenric looked over to where the king spoke with a man who appeared to be a thane, though his eyes remained on them. “You, a sorceress and the daughter of a king, are marrying a northern alderman?”

The same day her first marriage was ended, no less.

“If you’ll have me.” Brynn’s tone was flat, disinterested, but her lip trembled, like she was overcome with emotion.

Cenric exhaled a long breath. He’d asked Aelgar to find him a sorceress to wed years ago when he had become alderman. Every time he had followed up, the king’s servants had responded that there were no suitable sorceresses willing to marry into Ombra. Cenric had moved on with his life.

Then, last month, the king’s messengers arrived with the wonderful news that yes, the king had finally found one for him. Cenric had accepted.

Now he wondered if this was somehow a mistake.

Cenric shifted. He felt as if he was missing something, as if there was some detail that had escaped him. “You left Paega on grounds of dereliction?”

“Yes.” Brynn’s expression closed off, reverting to that empty look she’d worn while standing before the king.

Divorcement was rare, but for it to be on grounds of dereliction was rarer. If a man failed to provide for his wife, especially if she was a sorceress, she usually had other recourse.

“If Glasney was not able to meet your standard of living, I doubt Ombra will be better.” Cenric thought it best to be honest. “We are not as rich or prosperous as the shires to the south.” Cenric hoped some of that would change with a sorceress in his lands, but it was fact.

Brynn shook her head, looking away from him. “It wasn’t about comfort.”

“No?” Cenric tried to think of what else dereliction could mean. Failure to perform his bed duties would have been grounds of deprivation or impotence.

Brynn took a deep breath. “Failure to provide defense.”

A wife had the right to her husband’s protection, but Cenric had never heard of a man shirking that. A man who couldn’t protect his woman was bad enough, but a man who wouldn’t?

Cenric frowned, glancing over to the king. Aelgar watched them from across the room, speaking to another man with his back to Cenric. What had Aelgar left out of that missive last week?

“Defense.” Brynn stared to the floor, that vacant look intensifying.

“What does that mean?” This time of year, Cenric was disconnected from news in the south.

“Raiders attacked Glasney,” Brynn said. “They came at night. Just before the spring equinox.”

“Raiders attack everyone.” Cenric still didn’t understand. “If you have something worth stealing, men will try to steal it.”

Brynn grimaced as if she was in pain. “There were no guards set. Paega and his thanes had gone hunting again.” Bitterness entered her voice at that. “I managed most of the shire, but Paega’s thanes were still loyal to him, and I could not manage them on top of everything else.”

Cenric frowned at that. Why had she been running the shire?

Brynn’s voice cracked and she blinked quickly. “I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“So.” Cenric had the feeling she was upset and didn’t like it, but he needed to know what he was getting into. “You left him because…” Cenric didn’t know how to word the question. “They hurt you?”

“Not me,” Brynn said quietly. “I was making rounds in the shire that night. I wasn’t home.” She looked down at her hands.

“Then?”

“My son.” Brynn’s voice was small, little more than a whisper. “They killed my son.”

Silence stretched between them.

A cold feeling prickled along Cenric’s spine. It was much like the sensation he felt in a fight when he knew he had made a misstep.

The king’s missive hadn’t specified and Cenric had assumed her son died of natural causes. Children died all the time, especially babies. But murder?

Cenric looked to Edric, one of his thanes who had been his friend longer than he’d been alderman. Edric’s back was still turned, guarding them from intrusion. There would be no help there.

“If you’re worried about me leaving you, don’t.” Brynn angled her head away.

Cenric had been worried about that, actually.

“It was hard enough for me to leave one husband. I doubt I will be allowed to leave a second.” Brynn spoke her words on an exhale. She sounded exhausted.

“I am sorry about your child.” Cenric cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure what else to say.

Brynn’s gaze finally focused on him. Her eyes glistened, but she held back her tears. “Thank you.” The words were so soft, he almost didn’t hear them.

Brynn of the Istovari was a grieving woman. Grief did things to people. It clouded over who they really were. For some, the fog lifted, and they returned to some semblance of who they were before. For others, the fog never lifted, at least not fully.

But Cenric had not come all this way to comfort a stranger. He had come because his king had “offered” him the honor of becoming family. And when kings “offered” such a gift, it was as good as an order.

Even if there was some hidden caveat to this as Cenric expected, what could he do? Refuse the king? He was already tenuously in Aelgar’s favor as it was. He had not been summoned to the last meeting of the Witan—the council of aldermen who served as the king’s advisors. Nor had he ever been summoned to one, though it should have been his right. He was expected to pay his annual tribute to the king and host the king if ever Aelgar dared venture into the rugged north. Outside of Ombra, Cenric had very few privileges.

Cenric looked her over again. “I’m…” He cleared his throat.

Brynn smelled of some sweet perfume he didn’t recognize, but it was pleasant. Her face had a pleasing shape and her lips were full, plump. Under different circumstances, he might be looking forward to tasting those lips.

Cenric wished they could wait at least one night. He only had foretellings of people he had already met and places he had already been. Perhaps now that he had met Brynn, Morgi would send him a warning if this was a bad idea. But it seemed the king was not interested in waiting on Morgi.

At the head of the hall, Aelgar now spoke with his wife, though the couple both watched him. Cenric couldn’t make out their words, but if he had to guess, Eadburh was objecting.

Cenric had noticed on his past visits that the woman had a habit of arguing with her king in front of other people and Aelgar tolerated it. Cenric didn’t understand why.

Cenric didn’t have much time. A blunt approach might be best. “The north is not a gentle place. It’s harsh. Rough.” Like me. “You will have to endure much.”

“I already have endured much.” Brynn’s voice had taken on that empty tone again, her eyes once again unfocused.

Yes, he supposed she had. He didn’t know the details of what had happened months ago nor what kind of life she had led before then. But he did know some of what the previous king’s daughters had survived in the war after his death.

“It’s dangerous.” Cenric pressed the issue. “It is not like the Istovari havens or the southern lands you are used to.”

Brynn didn’t reply.

“Lady Brynn?” Cenric grasped her chin, reminding himself not to alarm anyone watching. He pulled her face around, making her look at him. “Why me?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw movement as a male figure stepped toward them. Just as quickly, Edric blocked the figure’s path. Though he might be a full head shorter than the average man, Edric could acquit himself well enough.

Cenric kept his attention on Brynn, trusting his friend to deal with the other man.

Brynn finally met his gaze. She truly was beautiful. She met his gaze without flinching, without any reaction at all.

They stared each other down. He scrutinized her closely, trying to guess what that lovely face might be hiding.

She wasn’t some harmless beauty, she was an Istovari sorceress and niece to the king. She might be the most dangerous woman he had ever met.

“Marrying me will ruin your life,” Cenric whispered, dropping his voice.

“Already ruined,” Brynn answered, her voice barely audible.

“You will lose everything.” While there was little either of them could do at this point, Cenric only thought it was fair he be honest with this woman.

“I lost everything,” Brynn shot back.

Cenric tried to remember what he knew of the Istovari. What could he say to offend her? To make her see that this was a poor match? “I’m not some well-trained Istovari man. I could beat you. I could make you my whore.”

Brynn was unimpressed. “Or I could make you mine.”

Cenric fought to control his reaction to those words. From her dead expression, she hadn’t meant them as an invitation. He released her.

Brynn’s gaze dropped as soon as he let go. “I will not have another man forced to marry me.” This time tears did escape her eyes. “I am not doing this under duress. But if you are, tell me, and I will release you.”

Cenric considered it for a space of heartbeats. There was much about her first marriage he had yet to learn, and he doubted he could learn it all in just a few minutes.

Cenric glanced over his shoulder. Edric was still facing down the stranger, but another of his men, Ugba, nodded slowly.

They needed a sorceress in Ombra. The people made do with what the midwives and local wise women could manage, but they were not sorceresses. Sorceresses could mend broken bones in days instead of weeks, chase off fevers, and save men on the brink of death.

More than that, Brynn should be able to heal their animals, too. Healthier flocks and herds would be a boon unto themselves.

This might be a mistake. But as big a risk as this might be, there was the promise of a huge reward. It had taken Aelgar two years to offer him a sorceress as a wife. Cenric might not be offered another.

“Is everything in accord?” King Aelgar’s voice interrupted Cenric’s train of thought.

In his days in a warband, Cenric had once had to enter a narrow pass under dense fog. They had known an enemy warband lay in wait for them somewhere on the other side. They had known it was a trap, but they had no choice.

This felt like that. He could see nothing, hear nothing, he only knew that he didn’t know everything. He also, unfortunately, knew he had no choice.

“Yes, my king,” Cenric agreed. “All is in accord.” He looked back to Brynn. “Can I trust you not to kill me in my sleep?”

Brynn’s reply was flat, almost sounding bored. “I could kill you awake if I wanted to.”

Was that a threat? Cenric frowned about to reply before a question came to mind.

Friend?

Cenric looked down as a furry body pressed against his leg. It seemed that Snapper had finished exploring the room and decided to return to him.

Snapper was a smaller, fluffier, and stockier echo of the wolves his ancestors had been. He was a dyrehund, one of the dogs gifted by Morgi to Cenric’s forefathers.

Snapper studied Brynn with raised ears, tail wagging hesitantly.

“Snapper, this is Brynn,” Cenric said to the dog. He looked back to Brynn. “Brynn, this is Snapper.”

Brynn’s face pinched in confusion. “Snapper?”

Cenric cleared his throat. Sometimes he forgot himself outside of Ombra. “He’s…my dog.”

Friend? Snapper asked again. He stepped toward Brynn, tail wagging.

Brynn studied the dog, not knowing what to make of him. “I…see.” She had probably never been introduced to a dog before.

Sick? Snapper’s question came as he wagged his tail at the stranger. He must be picking up on Brynn’s body language.

Sad, Cenric sent back.

Sad? Confusion filtered through the dog’s thoughts. Snapper sometimes struggled to understand human emotions.

Cenric tried to think of how to explain it in terms the dog would understand. Her pup.

No pups, came Snapper’s challenge. The dog sent the impression of Brynn’s scent that must somehow prove she had no pups.

Lost pup, Cenric replied in his mind. She lost her pup.

Understanding came from Snapper at that. He approached Brynn, whining as his tail wagged. Friend?

Brynn watched the dog as he came closer, ears pinned as he pawed at her skirt. Instead of pushing him away, Brynn reached down and scratched behind Snapper’s ears.

That was enough for the dog. Friend! his thoughts screamed as he leapt on his hind legs, tail lashing wildly as he tried to lick Brynn’s face. Friend!

Brynn jumped back, startled.

“Down!” Cenric ordered, giving the command out loud.

Snapper dropped back down onto all fours, looking between them in confusion. Friend?

“Apologies.” Cenric straightened. “He meant no offense.”

Brynn seemed genuinely confused at that. Who could blame her? Most people had that reaction. “None taken,” she said, more out of habit than understanding, if he had to guess.

Cenric could explain his connection to the dog later. He tried to go back to being serious, but it was difficult with Snapper standing between them, tongue happily lolling out one side.

“So we are doing this?” Cenric asked, trying not to sound too harsh, but also trying not to sound embarrassed. Even if he was a little embarrassed.

Brynn’s expression had gone blank again, painfully blank. “I think so.”