Tears of the Wolf (Wrath and Weeping #1)

Chapter 17 Brynn

Brynn

By the time the mead was drunk, and the lamb eaten, it was too late for Olfirth and his men to ride home. They bedded down in the hall with their cloaks, the household boys around them. The household girls settled into the loft, where the boys usually slept.

Brynn and Cenric went to bed without speaking, without going on their evening walk. Cenric unsheathed his sword and set it next to the bed. He looked at Brynn as he did it, but she didn’t argue. If Olfirth decided to attack them in the night, the weapon would be useful, but Brynn doubted he would.

Cenric had been polite to Olfirth, even if he glared just a little bit when he thought no one was looking. When Edric and the others had arrived from the fields, Cenric had urged them to join the meal. Her husband had cooperated with her plan, at least from appearances.

Brynn feared perhaps her husband might still try to murder Olfirth in the night. She stayed awake for a long time after lying down, listening to the sound of his breathing at her back.

But the morning came without incident, even if a spike of terror shot through her when she woke to find Cenric gone. Thankfully, only the usual sounds of a rousing household were heard through the door.

Brynn dressed, scooped Guin up from her basket, and ventured out of the bedchamber, still bracing herself for what she might find.

What she found was Cenric and several of his thanes including Edric speaking with Olfirth. Brynn overheard enough to guess they were discussing the upcoming Blydmoth and fears that it would bring raids.

Near the top of the northmost brace, Brynn noticed a fresh set of runes had been etched into the wooden pillar. It gave her fresh hope.

Brynn would have liked to stay and shepherd the men’s conversation, but she couldn’t do everything for them. She spared a moment to greet her husband and Olfirth, then sent one of the girls to fetch them a few loaves of yesterday’s bread, cold meats, and cheese.

She went on with her duties for the morning, seeing to the milking of the goats and the tending of the geese.

Guin chased after a gander five times her size, then turned and fled back to Brynn when the large bird hissed and flapped his wings. Brynn scooped the puppy back up, shooing away the large male goose.

The geese had already stopped laying eggs, the chickens had slowed, and the goats were producing less as the days grew shorter. There was just enough milk to make butter and cheese to preserve through the cold months.

The sun had just cleared the far mountains when Brynn spotted Olfirth and his men riding back out toward their own land. They rode at an easy pace with all nineteen men in a line.

Brynn let out a sigh of relief. A part of her hadn’t been sure Cenric would let them leave unharmed.

She found Cenric leaning against the doorway of the longhouse, watching Olfirth and his riders disappear down the road. She sent the girls ahead to the kitchens, carrying baskets of eggs and jars of milk for preparation. It would be another day of harvesting the gardens once they were done.

Brynn paused a few paces from her husband. Guin whined, so she set the puppy down, letting her sniff in the grass with the other dogs. Brynn folded her hands in front of her, trying to project composure to anyone who might be watching them. “Well?”

Cenric remained with his arms crossed, not taking his eyes off the other men until they vanished around the bend. “Olfirth has invited us for a feast in three weeks’ time. You probably saw he left his mark on our pillars.”

A little of the tension in her shoulders eased. So Olfirth did want to be friends, after all. Whether he’d wanted it before yesterday didn’t matter. Olfirth was seeking peace in a roundabout way and that was good enough for Brynn. She could only hope it was good enough for Cenric.

“How did you do it?” Cenric let off a laugh on an exhale. “What trickery was it?”

Brynn shook her head. “There’s no trickery about it.”

“You faced nearly twenty thanes by yourself. Convinced them to lay down their weapons and sup without a single show of force.” Cenric must have heard from the household girls what had happened. “We call Olfirth the old man because he’s nearly three times the age of any of his thanes, but he still fights. He’s tough as the tusks of a boar and fierce as a bear in spring.”

“Most people are reasonable.” Brynn glanced at the empty road. “And old bears are the ones who have learned to choose their fights wisely.”

Cenric pushed off the doorframe and stepped toward her. He exhaled a long breath, breaking eye contact. “I was wrong. You were right.”

Brynn wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. “What?”

“Are you going to make me say it again?” Cenric half-laughed, though he seemed genuinely pained. “You handled that well. Better than I would have.”

Brynn had barely expected him to go along with her plan, much less acknowledge she was right. “Thank you.” The words came out stiff, uncomfortable. “I suppose we’ll see how things go at the feast in three weeks.”

Cenric chuckled, but it was awkward. Forced. Like he wanted to say something else but didn’t know how.

He was a proud man, this new husband of hers. It had probably cost him a great deal to admit he was wrong about his own neighbors. That she, a foreigner barely in his lands for a fortnight, had made better progress than he had in his two years as alderman.

“When your girl told us, I thought we’d been attacked.” Cenric reached for her wrist. He pinched the edge of her sleeve, not quite touching her, but tugging ever so slightly, like it was as far as he dared to go.

Brynn’s mouth went suddenly dry. “The house is fine,” she assured him. “All the cattle and crops and—”

“I wasn’t worried about the house.”

Brynn’s heart, the wretched thing, did a flip in her chest. It was folly to create expectations that had never been between them. It was foolishness to hope and yet…

“If anyone hurts you, I will kill them. I don’t care who they are.” Cenric released her sleeve, straightening.

Brynn smiled, trying not to feel disappointment at the loss of his touch. “Lucky for him, Olfirth didn’t hurt me.”

Cenric jerked his head in agreement. “Lucky for him.”

Brynn’s chest fluttered. She could have killed Olfirth herself and he’d known it, but Cenric’s vow still made her feel lighter somehow. She didn’t know where to go from here. “We should be done harvesting the leeks tonight.” She offered him the option to change the subject.

“The barley will be done tomorrow if not today,” Cenric answered.

Brynn tried to sound reassuring. “We will be secure through winter.”

“Yes.” Cenric scratched at his beard thoughtfully. He looked back to her. “Can I make this up to you?” He asked the question quietly, like he feared being overheard and perhaps he did.

“What?”

“Yesterday.”

Brynn still didn’t understand.

“How I spoke to you.”

Brynn tried to remember how he had spoken to her. They’d argued, but she’d won. He’d already admitted he was wrong. “You don’t need to make it up to me.”

“A gift, then.”

Did he think he could simply buy her forgiveness?

“If I wanted to give you one.”

“I don’t need anything,” Brynn answered. She had brought her chest of jewels and baubles that was the more mobile portion of her dowry. The entire longhouse was at her disposal. Ombra might not be as wealthy as the south, but she wasn’t lacking. “Guin was already a fine gift, thank you.”

“There is nothing you miss from your old life?”

“No.” She wished she could explain to him that her old life had been its own torment. Paega had treated her as an ignorant child and all those closest to him had followed his lead. In Ombra, Brynn was barely a step below a queen.

Cenric was not used to impossible tasks, it seemed. “Nothing?”

“It’s not something you could give,” Brynn answered softly.

Whatever else he might be, Cenric was persistent. “Tell me and we’ll see.”

“Osbeorn is the only thing I miss,” Brynn answered, looking down. She inhaled a deep breath, determined not to cry first thing in the morning.

“I see,” Cenric answered quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Brynn forced down the lump in her throat.

Cenric brushed his fingers along her jawline, just the ghost of a touch. “I would bring you the head of his killer if I could.”

Brynn shook her head, feeling tears well beneath her lashes. “There’s no point. We don’t know who it was.”

Cenric frowned at that. “Have you never wanted revenge?”

Brynn drew in a shuddering breath. “I am too full of grief to have room for bloodlust.” She had wanted revenge for her sister. Called for it, demanded it from her mother, Aelgar, and anyone who would listen. She hadn’t just wanted the blodgild, the payment owed to the family of a murder victim. Brynn had demanded the men’s heads.

But it had not mattered.

In the end, they didn’t know which of Winfric’s thanes had killed her. It was impossible to know and after two years of bloodshed, everyone was ready for peace.

All the same, Brynn held onto her bloodlust for years until it had wrung her out. Finally, she had lacked the strength to hold onto it.

Perhaps if she could have hunted those men down, but she had not been willing to sacrifice her obligations to Esa and the other people of Glasney to do it.

Revenge was for those with power and patience. Brynn had long ago recognized she did not have enough of either.

She was the type of person who would have to suffer the indignities and offenses of life. She was one of those who had to endure.

Cenric exhaled a long breath, looking past her. Brynn was sure her husband would have wanted revenge, would have found a way to get it. Perhaps he was stronger than she was, or maybe just more spiteful.

Cenric would be fierce as a father. She had tried to avoid thoughts of making him one, but it was oddly comforting to realize. He would protect their children and failing that he would extract bloody revenge.

“Brynn.” Cenric reached for her, and she let him fold her into him.

He didn’t kiss her as she expected, but he pressed her to his heart. Resting his chin on top of her head, he held onto her, sheltering her in the circle of his arms.

Brynn closed her eyes, her fingers digging into his back. She savored the now familiar smell of him and the firm solidness of his chest.

“You should be more selfish,” Cenric murmured into her hair. “This wretched world owes you something for a change.”

Brynn wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Cenric kissed the top of her head, pulling away, though he grasped her hands. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“You will,” Brynn promised.

He smiled down at her with what Brynn thought must be genuine affection. “I missed our walk last night.”

“Me too.”