Tears of the Wolf (Wrath and Weeping #1)

Chapter 14 Cenric

Cenric

Cenric ate with his people while Brynn bustled around the longhouse. She never stayed still for long, speaking with the house girls and Gaitha.

According to Edric, Cenric hadn’t missed much in his absence. There were still fields to be harvested and the young aurochs to be rounded up for the autumn slaughter. There was a reason the eleventh month was called Blydmoth—Blood Month.

No word yet of any raiding ships. Some people thought they might not come this year. Cenric doubted it, especially if the raid that killed Brynn’s son had been Valdari, as he suspected.

They were a pragmatic people—you had to be to live in the harsh wilds of Valdar. They wouldn’t care that Cenric had once served Ovrek Fork-Beard, the first and current king of Valdar. All they would care about was that Cenric’s land had fat sheep, silver, and good grain.

Unless the Valdari had found somewhere else to raid, they would come to Hylden. Being the farthest northern shire, Cenric was sure his people would be attacked first.

He would need to check the defenses of the other villages in his lands. All had been either repairing or building palisades, but not all were finished.

There were just a few precious weeks before the weather turned, and the treacherous winter seas would make sailing too dangerous. Until then, they needed to be vigilant.

As Cenric sat with his people, Brynn stopped briefly to eat then went back outside, saying she needed to take care of the puppy and help the girls with the cows and goats.

The meal was finished and Cenric’s people returned to their homes. It would be an early morning tomorrow and a long day’s work. The barley was close to being harvested and they needed to finish soon.

Cenric walked with Edric to the cottage he shared with Gaitha, speaking of the harvest, their defenses, and the coming Blydmoth preparations. And Brynn.

“She’s been here a day and already healed the whole village as far as I can tell,” Edric said. “Always on the move.”

Cenric nodded. “I’ve noticed.”

“Fair warning, lord.” Just like that, Edric’s usual humor was gone from his tone.

“Warning?”

“Gaitha tells me your wife went to visit Rowan’s house. Spent over an hour there.”

Cenric had the sudden feeling of…what was this? Embarrassment? Why should he be embarrassed? He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he?

“Gaitha said everything seemed civil, but…” Edric shrugged. “Thought you might want to know.”

Suddenly, Brynn’s apprehension at seeing him again made sense. “Thank you, Edric.”

“Good luck.” Edric sounded sincere. “Maybe she’s not the jealous sort?”

Cenric doubted he would be so fortunate. He walked with Edric to the house the thane shared with Gaitha before returning to the longhouse to find it dark, most of the household girls and boys ensconced in their pallets. Snapper greeted him, tail wagging as he trailed beside his master.

“Good lad.” Cenric petted the dog’s ears, earning several slobbery licks of appreciation.

Cenric headed to his bedchamber, unable to deny the shiver of excitement at the prospect of Brynn waiting for him. They had known each other for less than a week, but he had seen nothing to indicate she was anything other than what she appeared—the kind of woman he was lucky to have.

Perhaps it was safe to get his hopes up. Perhaps his new wife really was as remarkable as she seemed.

He opened the door to find the room dark and empty. Brynn’s chests were there from where they had been placed yesterday, but his wife was missing. “It’s late. She should be here.”

Snapper looked up to Cenric, tail wagging slowly. Brynn?

Cenric glanced down to the dog. “I suppose we’ll have to go find her.”

Snapper’s tail wagged faster, probably just happy to be included. Find Brynn?

Find Brynn.

Snapper scampered off, sniffing the floor, searching for her scent.

The main hall was dark and Cenric couldn’t tell which pallet belonged to Brynn’s handmaiden. He remembered the basket for her puppy was empty, so she must be outside with it.

Brynn!

Cenric followed Snapper back outside the longhouse. The air was crisp with the chill of late autumn, his breath creating little clouds in the moonlight. The sky was clear tonight, displaying the stars like a canopy of gems.

The household and the village were mostly quiet. A few horses whickered and geese honked softly. His home was drifting off to sleep. So where was Brynn?

As if in answer to his question, Snapper bounded ahead, tail wagging. Cenric followed, the late autumn grass rustling underfoot.

Brynn! Snapper rounded the longhouse and stopped before a crouched shape, tail wagging. Puppy! He woofed happily and raced back to Cenric, bouncing and hopping the whole way.

“Brynn?” Cenric patted Snapper’s head in thanks.

“Here.” Brynn’s voice came soft. She crouched on the stoop of one of the side doors, a grey shape sniffing in the grass at her feet. “I was just taking Guin out one last time.”

“Guin?”

“It’s what I named the puppy.” Brynn reached down to pet the small grey shape as she said it. A strip of linen had been tied around the puppy’s neck in a loose collar. Cenric noted with satisfaction that Brynn truly seemed to have claimed the puppy as hers.

The puppy growled at Snapper, and he knocked her over easily, tail wagging as he did. Guin snarled, a sound that was comical in her squeaking tones. Snapper woofed and knocked her over again.

Brynn didn’t interfere, letting the older dog teach the puppy manners.

Cenric leaned against the wall, watching the dogs play. Or rather, Snapper was playing and Guin tried to fight.

“I’m sorry I had to leave yesterday,” Cenric began.

“You look after your family,” Brynn said quietly. “There is no need to apologize for that.” She sounded sincere, but also sad. She still watched the dogs.

“I heard you’ve met Rowan.”

Brynn flinched, looking up to him. He couldn’t see her expression in the dark, but she shifted on the stoop. Maybe this wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have, either. “I found her comb in your room. I returned it.” She drew her mantle closer around her shoulders, like it was ringmail that could protect her. “Her father was ill, and their goat had a broken leg, so I visited them a second time.”

Cenric wasn’t sure what to make of that. He’d expected accusation or anger, not this unspoken…pain. “Are you upset?”

“I have no reason to be upset.” Brynn inhaled a deep breath. “You’ve lived your life as I have lived mine.”

That was eerily like the defense he had prepared for himself. Hearing her speak it first was oddly disarming. “Are you jealous?”

Brynn shook her head. “I have no right to be.”

Cenric studied her for a long time, not sure what to say.

Brynn went back to watching the dogs, now chasing each other in small circles.

“I would understand if you were jealous,” Cenric said quietly. “Angry, even. I should have told you about her sooner.”

Brynn ducked her head. “I’m not angry. I’m not…” She shook her head. “I know what the right thing is. I will do it.”

“And what is that?”

“I will…” Brynn’s voice hitched ever so slightly, but Cenric was listening close enough to catch it. “I will do my duty to you and the people of this shire. Heal them, help them, and be the sorceress you need.”

Silence stretched between them again, broken only by Snapper’s playful growls and Guin’s less playful attempts at snarls.

“You always do the right thing, don’t you?” Cenric surmised. “Even if it makes you feel like shit.”

Brynn looked up to him, her shoulders stiff. “What do you want me to do, Cenric?” This time a hint of frustration or maybe even anger crept into her tone. “Should I have refused to heal that old man because you bedded his daughter? Should I have struck the whole family with boils, perhaps? Would you have been happy then?” Brynn’s mouth snapped closed, and she ducked her head, cutting off her tirade. She covered her face with her hands and dragged in sharp breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I…just…just tell me what you want, and I will do it.”

“I would understand if you were jealous of Rowan.” Cenric crouched down to her level, grasping her wrist to pull her hand from her face. “I’m jealous of Paega.”

“Why?” Brynn sounded genuinely confused.

“Because he had you.” Cenric wasn’t sure what pulled that confession from him, but it was the truth. He hated that so much of Brynn’s youth had been wasted on a man who hadn’t appreciated what he’d been given. He hated that she’d given six years to that wretch and even borne him a son only to be neglected to the point she fled.

Brynn made a sound that might have been a laugh but was too sad to be a real one. “He never wanted me. He still pines for his first wife.”

A trickle of understanding came to Cenric then. “I’m not pining for Rowan.”

Brynn flinched again at mention of the other woman’s name.

“Rowan is a good woman, and she will make someone a fine wife, but…we didn’t work.” Cenric had cared deeply for Rowan and her for him, but that hadn’t been enough.

Rowan had soothed the aching loneliness of his first year back in Ombra, far from his friends and family in Valdar. But Rowan was not prepared to be an alderman’s wife. It hadn’t been right for either of them. Their relationship had died a slow, lingering death.

Brynn looked down to her knees. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Try to make me feel better.”

The problem was that Cenric wanted her to feel better. “No lies, Brynn. Like I told you. Only the truth.”

“Yes?”

“The truth is that I’ve had other lovers, and Rowan was my frilla.”

Brynn’s brow wrinkled. “A what?”

Cenric tried to remember the Hyldish word for it. “A woman who has an arrangement?”

“You mean a concubine?” Brynn’s tone turned dry.

“Yes. Rowan was my concubine.” For some reason, Cenric didn’t like the sound of the words as they were spoken to Brynn. “But you’re the only woman I’ve called wife.”

Brynn looked up to him then, her eyes shining orbs in the moonlight. She might be crying, but he couldn’t tell. “Don’t denigrate her to make me feel better.”

“I’m not denigrating her.” Cenric tried to smother the frustration in his chest. “Like I said, she’s a fine woman, but…” How could he explain it? “It’s over.”

“I see.” Brynn didn’t sound convinced.

“You’re the only woman I’ve called wife.”

“And what does that mean to you?”

Cenric considered telling her about Morgi’s feelings on polygyny but didn’t think that would help right now. That wasn’t what Brynn needed to hear. “I’ll show you. Walk with me?”

“It’s dark,” Brynn protested.

“The moon is bright.” Cenric glanced overhead. “Your goddess Eponine will light the way.” He glanced to the dogs. “Snapper can lead us.” He stood, reaching down to her.

Brynn hesitated but took his hand. “Where are we going?” she asked, scooping up the puppy in her other arm.

“I’ll show you.” Cenric tugged her away from the longhouse, up the path leading to the hills beyond.

Brynn walked beside him, silent with her head bent partly down.

Snapper, to the cairns.

Cairns! Snapper trotted ahead, leading the way.

A chill breeze whipped up, rippling the grass and lashing at their mantles. Brynn wore a thick wool mantle, the puppy tucked under it.

Cenric took her up the narrow curving path, under the pine trees. Brynn looked up through the pine branches, their skeletal fingers splayed overhead like spiderwebs.

“Not far,” Cenric assured her, though she hadn’t spoken.

Snapper bounded ahead of them, sniffing along the trail, then racing back and looping around them again. Several of the other dogs followed in a loose formation, escorting them through the shadows.

They cleared the line of trees, coming to a series of sloping mounds set atop the hill. Some were ancient, sinking down into the earth. Others rose new, their rocks not yet overtaken by moss and grass.

Cenric had once tried counting them, but it was hard to know which slopes were natural and which might be old barrows, worn down by the passage of time. Either way, there were a hundred or more of them in varying sizes curving along the hillside.

Brynn gave a little shudder as she realized what these things were. “Graves?”

“My family,” Cenric confirmed. He looked around them at the expanse of barrows. “Over two hundred years of them, if the stories are true.”

Brynn was rigid at his side.

“This is…” Cenric tried to explain it. “The land. It belongs to me, but I belong to it.”

Brynn shook her head, just the barest motion. She didn’t understand.

Cenric hadn’t had to explain this to someone before. Aunt Aegifu, despite being the single most annoying person he knew, did understand, but she might be the only one. He tugged Brynn after him, past the newer cairns that rose around them like dark beasts.

Brynn looked to the right and left as if she was frightened. That was the last thing he wanted.

Cenric led her to a felled log near the center of the massive graveyard. He sat down, guiding her to sit beside him.

Brynn sat, if a little stiffly. She let go of his hand to readjust the puppy in her lap, bundling the edges of her mantle around the small dog.

Cenric exhaled sharply. “This…” He gestured around them. “It’s…” He frowned at the dark shapes rising from the soil.

“The dead?” Brynn asked, her voice small.

“No. Yes, but that’s not all.” Cenric chewed his lip. “This place is filled with people who I never met, some whose names I don’t know, but they are still a part of us.” Cenric singled out a large mound not far from where they sat. “The children from the village play on that mound in the summer. The sides are covered in grass, so they like to roll down it.”

Brynn still didn’t speak, listening patiently.

“They climb that one over there.” Cenric gestured to a newer mound, one taller with steeper sides. “When Valdari attacked the village in my grandfather’s time, he and his men tricked the raiders here so the women could pelt them with stones from above.” Cenric almost went into gorier detail but noticed that Brynn had gone rigid. He went back to something lighter. “Come spring equinox, we’ll hide baubles amongst the cairns for the little ones to find. There is dancing, singing, and we light a bonfire up on this hill.”

“That sounds lovely.” Brynn sounded wistful. “But I still don’t understand.”

Cenric gestured to the silent watchers around them, his dozens of ancestors lying beneath the rocks. “All these men and women are gone, but they aren’t. They are still a part of our lives, and they still mean something to us.”

Brynn followed his gaze to the cairns.

“My mother, father, sister, and brothers are dead, but they are still here.” He pointed to the large cairn that had been made for all of them. They had died close together thanks to Aelgar’s war. A fresh corner of the cairn marked where Nettles had been buried only today. “They are with me.” Cenric wasn’t sure how else to put it. “Here and now.”

Brynn still didn’t speak, but she softened a little, seeming to relax.

“Legacy,” Cenric said after a long moment. “This is legacy.” He looked at Brynn. “I am a part of that legacy.” He inhaled, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “And so is my wife.”

One day, Brynn would be buried here with Cenric. They would become a part of the landscape, a part of the spring festivals and the children’s summer games.

“It’s not that I look forward to dying,” Cenric said. “I plan to live a good while yet, but it gives me peace to know that even after I am gone, I won’t be. Not really.”

Brynn inhaled a shuddering breath.

The puppy in her arms squirmed and she set the small beast down. Guin hopped over to where Ash and Snapper sniffed the edges of a cairn, probably scenting a mink or rabbit or any of the other creatures that made their homes among the stones. The older dogs greeted Guin with wagging tails as she joined them.

“Brynn?” Cenric wondered if it would be unwelcome for him to touch her. “Am I making sense?”

Brynn sniffled. Had she been crying again? “I think so. I’m part of your legacy.”

“I want you to be a part of my legacy,” Cenric said. “My family.”

Brynn looked up at that word.

Cenric had wanted a sorceress’s power. He had wanted a woman skilled enough in politics to act as peace-weaver with his neighbors. He had hoped for a wife with enough noble blood to bring prestige to his household. Brynn gave him all of those things, but somehow it wasn’t enough.

For so long, a sorceress wife was a faceless goal in his mind. The idea was practical, a rational choice.

Now Brynn was in front of him, a real flesh and blood woman and very little of what she made him feel was rational. She was everything he had ever wanted, but she was here out of desperation.

Cenric couldn’t shake the feeling he was exploiting her. Somehow, he had never considered how one-sided this bargain was until he was faced with the woman who had taken it.

Cenric ventured to touch the side of Brynn’s face, cradling her cheek in his palm.

Brynn inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away. Her lips parted, her shadowed eyes watching him. She was lovely, even in the sunless darkness. Maybe even more so.

“I want you, Brynn,” he whispered, letting the double meaning creep into his voice. “And I want you to be happy here.”

“Happy?” Brynn choked, speaking the word like she had never heard it before.

“It doesn’t have to be right now.” Cenric remembered her son, her loss and grief. “But someday. Hopefully soon.” He brought his other hand up to frame her face.

Brynn licked her lips, tension fluttering through her.

“Only you, Brynn,” Cenric said. “No one else.” Taking other lovers would hurt Brynn and he didn’t want to hurt Brynn. Not to mention several of Cenric’s relatives had learned the hard way what Morgi thought of infidelity.

From the way her brow furrowed, Brynn seemed genuinely surprised by that promise.

“Until one of us dies or until you leave me.” As soon as he said it, Cenric wasn’t sure why he had added the last part.

“I won’t leave you.” Brynn blurted the words out in a jumble. She shook her head. “Please don’t send me away.”

“What are you talking about?”

Brynn swallowed. “You sent Rowan away.”

It was more complicated than that, but he didn’t argue. He could explain the details of that relationship some other time.

“You’re not Rowan.” Cenric brushed his thumb over Brynn’s lower lip. “And I’m not Paega.”

“No,” Brynn whispered. “You’re not.” She searched his face, watching him with a coiled intensity.

Cenric brushed a kiss on her chin, at the corner of her mouth. He gently suckled her lower lip, urging her to open for him.

Brynn leaned into him, her breath coming faster. She returned his kiss, despite the tension shuddering through her whole body.

Cenric wanted to devour her. He wanted to taste her secret places and hear his own name gasped from her sweet mouth.

He slid his arm around her waist, drawing her close against him. She let off a little yelp of surprise, but rested her hands on his shoulders, continuing to return his kiss.

Even through their woolen mantles, Cenric could feel her warmth. She was soft in his arms, melting against him as her mouth welcomed him.

He shifted, kneeling on the grass in front of her. Brynn whimpered at his withdrawal, then met his kiss again as he drew close.

Brynn kissed like a young colt learning to run—awkward, but no less eager. She let off a little moan, her fingers stroking the back of his neck.

Cenric had only ever known nightmares, but kissing Brynn must be what dreams felt like.

She framed his face in her hands, her breath coming faster. Cenric kissed her harder, drinking her in.

He found her boot and slid his hand up to her ankle. Brynn shuddered, but didn’t break their kiss.

Cenric ran his fingers up the woolen wrap around her calf, past her knee. All the while, Brynn kissed him as if she couldn’t get enough, as if she wanted it. As if she enjoyed it.

Shifting closer, Cenric touched her bare thigh under her skirt.

Brynn jolted, her palms slamming against his shoulders. In an instant, her whole body was rigid, eyes wide with fright.

“Brynn?” Cenric dropped his hand, head cocking as he watched her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” Brynn gasped, her breath still coming in heaves. “I’m just not used to…” She shook her head. “It’s fine.”

Cenric rested a hand on her knee, carefully, on top of her skirt this time. “I’m sorry.”

Brynn tensed for just a moment, but relaxed when he didn’t go any further.

“It’s alright.” Cenric was ready to take her on top of their mantles and among the graves of his ancestors. His own need pounded through him hot and greedy, wanting to know if the rest of her felt as good as her mouth did.

But Brynn’s fearful tremor was all he needed to know.

“We have time,” Cenric said. “We have all the time you need.”

Brynn sucked her lips between her teeth. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to stop.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Cenric shook his head, rising to his feet. “It’s late. We should be getting home.”

Brynn let him pull her up. She collected the puppy and tucked her under her mantle.

They walked back to the longhouse in silence down the path, back through the trees, and into the soft warmth of his home. Neither of them spoke, but when they returned to their room, Brynn stopped at the threshold and kissed him one last time before retreating to her side of the bed.