Alliance Bride

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“Perhaps they will accept an alliance without us having to offer you in marriage.”

Eadlyn dropped the tent flap to block her view of the fierce Nord warriors milling about their camp near the river that marked the border between Essix and Nordra.

The ache in her stomach swelled into her throat, bitter and hot, but she swallowed it back down as she turned to her brother, Essix’s so recently crowned king.

“God willing.”

She didn’t have the heart to dash Edward’s fragile hope. She had prayed day and night for such an outcome, but the fact remained—Essix was weak and broken. They had little to offer in an alliance. Unless God intervened, a marriage proposal was their only hope, and even that was a slim hope.

Edward halted his persistent pacing, his jaw clenching as reality seemed to crash in. “What if they won’t even consider an alliance?”

“They have to. You must convince them.”

He dropped into a nearby chair, his brows gathering in a petulant frown he needed to banish if he wanted to be taken seriously as king. He was a man now and far too old for such childish dramatics. “How?”

Eadlyn held back a sigh. He was not ready for the responsibility that had been thrust upon him. And how could he be? No one had bothered to teach him. Their father would surely be remembered as one of the worst kings ever to rule Essix.

“By remembering Waelon may be preparing for war, and if this alliance fails, Essix will be doomed.” She wasn’t sure how much more clearly she could stress their dire situation.

The kingdom to the east had long had its eye on Essix.

Like it or not, Edward had to embrace his role as king and find the strength to be what their father was not.

He hung his head. “You’re right.”

She knelt before him and wrapped her hand around his arm.

The path her life might take after today frightened her far more than she would admit to him, but her brother was the one who had to carry the weight of the crown.

“God will not abandon us, and we have allies who will help us see this through.”

As if summoned, a weathered figure ducked into the tent.

Oswin had been around for as long as Eadlyn could remember, doing everything in his power to advise her father and temper the king’s rash behavior.

His once-black hair had turned almost entirely gray, and fatigue etched deep lines in his face.

Yet, despite his worn appearance and heavy-lidded eyes, a closer look revealed they were sharp as flint, just like his mind.

Without his counsel and influence, Edward might never have been crowned king after their father’s sudden death, and the country would be in even greater turmoil.

He was the one Edward had to rely on once she was gone.

“Your Majesty. My lady.” Oswin gave them a respectful bow. “The pavilion is ready.”

“So this is it.” Edward’s face turned a shade of green, and Eadlyn gave his arm another squeeze.

“I have faith you will go out there and be the king I know you can be.”

This drew a weak smile from him.

While Oswin helped Edward slip into his royal robes, Eadlyn reached into a small chest and lifted the crown from its resting place.

The cool brass pressed against her fingers, worn at the edges from generations of use.

It served as a reminder of what was at stake.

Their country’s entire history might end here if they were unsuccessful in today’s negotiations.

When Edward faced her, he dipped his chin, and she set the crown atop his head, tucking a few unruly strands of his dark hair beneath it.

It had grown too long to be entirely respectable in Essix.

She’d meant to trim it days ago, but time had slipped away.

He needed a good wife. Someone to stand beside him and help him lead their people.

If only she could be here to help him choose one.

He stepped back, holding his arms wide. “Do I look like a king?”

She smiled through the ache building in her chest. “Stand tall and proud. Then you will be one.”

He took a deep breath, pulling his shoulders back, and Eadlyn did indeed glimpse the king she knew he could be. He just needed to work on his confidence. She prayed he would fake it well enough to convince the Nords to take their proposal seriously.

“All right, let’s get this done.”

He led the way out of the tent, shoulders square, his crown glinting beneath the overcast sky.

Eadlyn followed behind, Oswin silent and steady at her right.

To her left, Galen, commander of the royal guard, fell into step, tall as a tower and twice as unyielding.

His grim expression rarely changed, always as though they were marching to war.

Today, it suited the occasion. She took comfort in his stalwart presence.

He and Oswin were two of the closest allies she and Edward had.

Ahead, the cream-colored pavilion stood as a symbol of neutral ground between the two camps, its scarlet trim fluttering in the chill breeze.

Beneath the canopy, servants bustled, placing chairs and tables and arranging goblets and a cask of wine.

The scene looked almost festive. But this was no celebration.

This was where their future would be decided. Her future.

Eadlyn’s stomach twisted again, uncertain whether it should settle or rise. She forced the storm inside her to calm. She had to be strong for Edward and her people.

They stepped into the shadows beneath the pavilion. Three high-backed chairs waited, with a second set facing them. Eadlyn brushed her fingers along a polished armrest but did not sit. Her legs were too restless to stay still.

“The Nord king will join us shortly,” Oswin said, glancing first at Edward, and then at her.

Edward’s throat worked. “Any last advice?”

“We’ve gone over your words many times. Remain calm and keep a clear head. I will be here to counsel you if you need me.”

This seemed to calm Edward because his shoulders loosened. Oswin always had that effect on him. If only it worked as well for Eadlyn.

He seemed to sense her unease. While Edward composed himself, Oswin stepped closer and placed his hands on her shoulders. His grip held firm, like a father steadying a frightened child. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Eadlyn blinked hard to keep an upwelling of tears at bay. She would not break down. “All I want is for this alliance to work…however that must happen.”

“You do your people very proud, my lady.”

She managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Oswin.”

“My lord,” Galen said suddenly.

Those two words cut through the air like a blade.

Everyone turned. Five Nord warriors marched across the field.

The bear of a man in the lead must be the king.

He was a generation older than the other four and carried himself with the proud confidence of a born leader.

Eadlyn’s breath grew shallow as they approached, and a shiver iced her spine.

She’d heard so many stories of these savage northern warriors.

They certainly looked the part in their abundant leather, furs, and long hair.

No man of Essix ever grew his hair so long.

Each of them possessed at least one blade—a sword, an axe, or both. The way they carried the weapons said they’d practically been born with blades in hand. A shard of doubt pierced her. If things turned violent, could the royal guard truly protect them?

However, the dismissive way Galen watched them said they might as well have been flies waiting to be swatted. She drew from his confidence. Now was not a time to cow to intimidation. Essix had to show strength, or they would never rise from their weakened state again.

When the Nords reached the pavilion, a thick hush fell.

For a moment, they faced each other like two armies meeting on a battlefield rather than diplomats attempting to secure peace.

Eadlyn’s heart pounded as the silence stretched.

What if they hadn’t come to negotiate? What if they meant to strike?

Assassinate Edward and shatter Essix’s last hope?

But no army followed them. The rest of their camp remained peaceful, and no blades were drawn.

With a nudge from Oswin, Edward stepped forward. “Welcome.” His voice was steadier than Eadlyn had expected. “I am King Edward of Essix.”

Their translator, a balding man with a permanent frown, repeated Edward’s words in Nordric, the language sharp and guttural. The lead Nord’s iron gaze traveled up and down Edward, not even glancing at the translator.

“I am Jarl Runar, King of the Nord clans.” He spoke Aerlish, the language of the southern kingdoms, surprisingly well, though with a heavy accent.

After a glance at Edward, the translator stepped back, no longer of any use. At least this made negotiations quicker and more personal. All the better to make their plea.

“Thank you, Jarl Runar, for accepting our invitation. Please, sit.” Edward gestured toward the second set of chairs.

The jarl gave him another long, appraising look before stepping into the pavilion.

His men followed. Eadlyn took her seat at Edward’s right hand, tracking each of the Nord warriors as they arranged themselves opposite.

Two of the younger men claimed the seats on either side of the jarl.

His sons? She gripped the armrests at that thought.